My medieval story

The incident

London, United Kingdom
Year 2023
It was a beautiful weekend morning. Surprisingly, there were still days in London in the autumn when the sun occasionally came out. Initially, I planned to devote the whole day to work or reading a book in my cozy corner of an introvert, but it was impossible to miss such weather, so while sipping my morning coffee, I scrolled through the feed with updates of my city to find interesting places to visit.
"The Bishop Witchcraft Museum opened a week ago. Here we have collected for you several stories of the most interesting exhibits in their collection." it was said in the title of the article. The Museum of Witchcraft... sounds interesting. Since childhood, I have been attracted by various stories about magicians and supernatural creatures. Perhaps the Harry Potter books played a big role in this. As a result, I decided to visit the place today. Moreover, the museum was located in Islington, not far from my small apartment.
So, I quickly put on blue loose jeans, a white top, an oversized gray sweater and black patent leather boots. I put my shock of blonde curls into a careless braid, laid thin eyebrows and applied a little brown mascara to brighten my green eyes.
The museum itself turned out to be a small family business. In the basement of an old building with brick walls and oak planks on the floor, there were several rooms around the perimeter of which candles were placed, there was a smell of incense and meadow herbs that were hung on the walls. On the old shabby tables lay various magical artifacts: vials, ancient herbals, mortars and the like. In the very center of one of the side rooms, I found a thing that, I don't know how to describe, but seemed to beckon me. In my eyes, one book practically glowed and, as I heard, a strange hum emanated from it. It was as if thousands of very quiet voices were saying something unintelligible at once. The book stood on a special stand under the glass. As soon as I got there, I swear I heard her call me. "Emma Woodshires," a whisper echoed in my head. I stared at the pages as if mesmerized, unable to move. I tried to read the text, written by hand and smeared with ink blots. The text was in Latin. I missed these classes at the university. I could read it, but I didn't know the meaning.

Muri mundi pars ante me tempus iam non sit
Ostende mihi futurum, ostende mihi praeteritum
Ostende mihi viam ad ubi fatum vocat
Me mitte ubi dico
Ostende mihi viam meam

I read it first to myself, and then I started whispering aloud. When I pronounced the words more clearly, I literally saw how the text from the pages turned purple and began to float in the air. Then the purple letters swirled around me, and the whole room began to rotate with them. I was standing there, not understanding what was going on at all, when the walls, ceiling and floor were spinning around with great speed, and I was motionless at that time.
Finally, everything stopped. I took my head in my hands and sat down a little, leaning against the wall. "These are special effects," - I blurted out loud. One thing I knew for sure-I needed to get some air. This smell of herbs and stale air, it seems, completely turned my head, even to hallucinations. With difficulty pushing the heavy oak door at the end of the room, I got to the street.
It was only when the door slammed behind me that I finally looked around. It was not the Islington street I was used to, with its spacious alleys and roads strewn with cars and pedestrians. Yes, to get to the museum, I had to walk through an alley, which was quite a long distance between the new glass art center and the old brick house. The path between them was paved, there was even a track for bicycles.
I found myself in a very narrow opening between old medieval houses. I noticed that I was standing in the mud. There was no road around, just old trampled London mud. Lifting my head up, I didn't see the sky. The second and third floors of the old half-timbered buildings narrowed to the top. The street was dark, dirty and smelled terrible. In a panic, I looked around. Leaning against the wall of a neighboring house, a man in some rags was sleeping in the mud. Two women passing by in old corselet brown dresses screamed, and then stared at me with interest. I tried to open the door through which I came out here, back, but nothing came out. I thought I was crazy. With round and tearful eyes, I looked at everything that was happening. Then she ran forward. It dawned on me that my salvation was in a house that once housed a museum in my time. I ran around the street from the other side, trying not to catch the eyes of the locals. However, there was no door on the other side of the building. Looking around, I realized that a good half of the street was looking at me with undisguised interest. I screamed and ran without knowing where I was going. I knew my neighborhood inside and out. But this wasn't my neighborhood. The endless labyrinths of half-timbered houses seemed to me something surreal, unreal. Finally, near one of the houses, I noticed a rope on which laundry was hung out to dry. Quickly pulling off her old linen shirt to the floor, I crept into a small cul-de-sac between the houses, where, as it seemed to me, there were no people. Looking around, I pulled off my sweater when someone called out to me.
"Hey, lady, what are you doing here?"- A rough male voice asked.
I hastily put on a long shirt over a white top and turned to the source of the sound.
At the beginning of the alley stood a small, middle-aged man. He was covered all over with some smallpox, inspired nothing but fear and disgust.
"I'm... leaving,"- I said, trying to pass by and not meet his eyes.
"Where are you going?"- He was indignant, grabbing my hand.
I stopped, looking first at my hand, which was now clutched by his dirty palm, and then at his face disfigured by the disease.
"Getting naked in front of everyone... I will not tolerate a whore here! I'll show you how to behave like this!"- he said angrily, roughly grabbing me with his other hand, lifting the hem of his nightgown.
"What the hell?'- He froze, looking at my jeans, clearly not expecting to see them.
"Excuse me...", I was already indignant. If I don't allow anyone to treat me like this in my century, then why did some medieval peasant decide that he could try to abuse me.- "Go fuck yourself!" I shouted right in his face, charging the heavy sole of my shoe right on his shin.
As soon as his grip loosened, I rushed to run. In the wake, I heard threats for another quarter, then they completely subsided. However, I didn't stop. I turned back to see if someone was following me, and at that time I crashed right into the wall of the house. A sharp pain pierced my nose, I instinctively covered it with my hand and saw a blood-red mark on my palm. It was beyond me. I don't think I've ever cried so much in my life, even as a child, when a neighbor girl knocked out my tooth by hitting me with a bullet.
I slid down the side of the building, sitting right in the trampled mud. I burst into tears. Snot, blood, tears and traces of my mascara ran down my face. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know how I got here, what kind of place it was. And, most importantly, she had no idea how to get out of here. I couldn't believe the reality of what was happening, but it was all too tangible.
"Hey, do you need help?" - A soft bass voice was heard from somewhere above.
I abruptly interrupted the flow of tears and turned my already red eyes to black leather boots smeared in mud. Then she looked at the black trousers made of thick linen, at the brown leather jacket and the shirt visible under it, at the long woolen plaid cape, and finally met the questioning gaze of bright blue eyes. Their owner had long red hair, waves of which descended to his shoulders. He also wore a red beard. His thick eyebrows were now furrowed. There was something in his expression and facial features that inspired confidence.
My green eyes met his and a flood of tears gushed with renewed vigor. I mumbled something unintelligible, simultaneously wiping tears and blood with my sleeve.
- Well, that's it,- he reassured me, holding out his hand forward, - Let's go, it's cold outside. Don't be afraid.
And I trusted him. I simply had nothing to do. Yes, he could have killed me or sold me into slavery, but I knew that if I stayed on the street, I would rather be killed, or I myself would die of hypothermia.
The man helped me up and only now I realized what a baby I was next to him. Firstly, his physique could be called dense, even athletic. Secondly, I literally breathed into his chest, my 1.60 cm did not reach him to the end of the shoulder. That made me a little tense. I trusted a scary big bearded man at an incomprehensible time and I'm going with him,I don't know where.
- I live nearby, everything will be fine.- He smiled slightly, and then, taking off his warm cape, covered me and slightly pushed me by the shoulders, forcing me to walk with him deeper into the street.