Timeline - Michael Crichton [65]
The grandmotherly woman smiled: “Don’t worry, they have air soles built in, just like your Nikes.”
“Why is everything dirty?” Stern said, frowning at his overshirt.
“Well, you want to fit in, don’t you?”
:
They changed in a locker room. Stern watched the other men. “How exactly do we, uh . . .”
“You want to know how you dress in the fourteenth century?” Marek said. “It’s simple.” Marek had stripped off all his clothes and was walking around naked, relaxed. The man was bulging with muscles. Stern felt intimidated as he slowly took off his trousers.
“First,” Marek said, “put on your undershorts. This is very nice quality linen. They had good linen in those days. To hold the shorts up, tie your belt around your waist and roll the top of the undershorts around the belt a couple of times, so it holds. All right?”
“Your belt goes under your clothes?”
“That’s right. Holding up your shorts. Next, put on your hose.” Marek began to pull on his black wool tights. The hose had feet at the bottom, like a child’s pajamas. “They have these strings at the top, you see?”
“My hose is baggy,” Stern said, tugging them up, poking at the knees.
“That’s fine. These aren’t dress hose, so they aren’t skintight. Next, your linen overshirt. Just pull it over your head and let it hang down. No, no, David. The slit at the neck goes in the front.”
Stern pulled his arms out and twisted the shirt around, fumbling.
“And finally,” Marek said, picking up a felt outershirt, “you put on your doublet. Combination suit coat and windbreaker. You wear it indoors and out, never take it off except when it is very hot. See the points? They’re the laces, under the felt. Now, tie your hose to the points of the doublet, through the slits in your overshirt.”
Marek managed this in only a few moments; it was as if he’d done it every day of his life. It took Chris much longer, Stern noted with satisfaction. Stern himself struggled to twist his torso, to tie the knots at his backside.
“You call this simple?” he said, grunting.
“You just haven’t looked at your own clothes lately,” Marek said. “The average Westerner in the twentieth century wears nine to twelve items of daily clothing. Here, there are only six.”
Stern pulled on his doublet, tugging it down over his waist, so it came to his thighs. In doing so, he wrinkled his undershirt, and eventually Marek had to help him straighten it all out, as well as lace his hose tighter.
Finally, Marek looped the dagger and the chain loosely around Stern’s waist, and stood back to admire him.
“There,” Marek said, nodding. “How do you feel?”
Stern wriggled his shoulders uncomfortably. “I feel like a trussed chicken.”
Marek laughed. “You’ll get used to it.”
:
Kate was finishing dressing when Susan Gomez, the young woman who had taken the trip back, came in. Gomez was wearing period clothes and a wig. She tossed another wig to Kate.
Kate made a face.
“You have to wear it,” Gomez said. “Short hair on a woman is a sign of disgrace, or heresy. Don’t ever let anyone back there see your true hair length.”
Kate pulled on the wig, which brought dark blond hair to her shoulders. She turned to look in the mirror, and saw the face of a stranger. She looked younger, softer. Weaker.
“It’s either that,” Gomez said, “or cut your hair really short, like a man. Your call.”
“I’ll wear the wig,” Kate said.
Diane Kramer looked at Victor Baretto and said, “But this has always been a rule, Victor. You know that.”
“Yes, but the problem,” Baretto said, “is that you’re giving us a new mission.” Baretto was a lean, tough-looking man in his thirties, an ex-ranger who had been with the company for two years. During that time, he had acquired a reputation as a competent security man, but a bit of a prima donna. “Now, you’re asking us to go into the world, but you won’t let us take weapons.”
“That’s right, Victor. No