... Two guards dragged her to the platform, covered with blood. The naughty monk read the sentence. I am not too susceptible to the subtleties of Starobavarsky, but the meaning of the words was quite clear to me: "witch ...", "intercourse with the devil ...", "quarter the girl Agnes ..."

Quarter. The mind refused to accept what the word meant: it would be tied to a board, and then the executioner would cut off her arms, legs, and head. Before cutting off her head, her shapeless body, covered with her own blood, will be asked to read a prayer.

Almost a child. Torn, stained, insensible; she seemed not to understand what was going on. The beauty and helplessness of her beat backhand - hell, really only me? Around — dirty, wrinkled, blood-filled faces — not faces, but snouts, hari ... When she was dragged onto the platform and pushed toward the board, she reeled and fell. She was picked up and began to drag on the board. Fainting ... The organism pushed the mind away, protecting it from the unthinkable.

Heck. The strictest charter of all employees of the Link of Times prohibits any intervention in the events of the past. The girl was dragged onto the board, strapped in straps ... Damn ...

- Wait! Grandee gentlemen! Wait! Give sat ... day ... (damn Starobavarsky!) ... create a prayer for a sinful soul! Wait!..

It was an impulse; if I did not give in to him, I would never forgive myself. I knew it. Damned snouts puzzled, so much the better.

- One prayer! About salvation ...

A second confusion - and I slipped to the platform. From there hung her hand. If only to reach ... if only ... there is! To hell with rules, to hell with Link Times. I took great risks, of course; but I didn't care.

The confusion passed: I saw a movement towards me - but my faces were late: the cold palm was in my palm, and I already felt the trasper with my other hand. Poke button, and - rraz!

The guards, halberds, the platform, the dirty crowd, the lead light — everything turned off and went out; habitual green sparks flickered, whirlwinds-whirlwinds of whirlwinds of emptiness, from which space, walls and floors suddenly erected ... I was in my apartment. There was a cold palm in my hand.

***

Yes, now no one will doubt that the poor girl was in touch with the devil, who personally came to save her. How noble of him ... Spit. At all to spit. If only fainting, not a heart attack ...

No, breathing, pale only: fainting, typical faint. Hell, along with it, a huge board covered with blood was dragged, to which it had already been tied. Ammonia, where ammonia? or not: bound up, in the abomination of this, no. First, the first thing is to free the girl ... where is the knife? He was on his belt ... here he is, bastard. Rraz, and rraz ... and these filthy rags off her! She was wearing a tattered homespun dress, once beautiful, probably black and white, with lacing, neckline to the nipples almost, her full breasts all out ...

And it stinks like your mother! Whether the dress, or the board, or all together, - and the girl washed the last time, probably when she was baptized. Such are the customs of the fifteenth century, can not be helped: a squeamish there is better not to go there. So. Fir-tree sticks, as in shit fumbled. Come on, come here, beauty, slide from this pile of shit ... go to the handles ... Easy as a feather, how much did they starve her for hunger? I will send the hell to hell, but this will be all, now - to its light, to the window, and - sal ammoniac.

It seems there is no danger, it lasts from the strength of five minutes (not counting six centuries) - but I hurry like mad. Immediately along the way, I’m putting on a bath, hot one - to steam the damsel Agnes, as she wakes up. If he wakes up ... Nonsense: fainting is a trifling matter.

So, here is ammonia, here is a handkerchief - let's go! ... She sighed, stirred ... there is! Fuh!

She opened her eyes, looked at me, - her face stretched out, all - one continuous question and surprise.

Just now I realized that in front of me was a living girl. Totally naked. Beautiful Fabulously beautiful - as it was only then, in the past. Despite the dirt, bruises, bruises between her legs (the guards, apparently, fucking her, like the last bitch ... freaks, would kill!). Baby at all: on the face so no more than sixteen, but the body is ripe, peach, and tremendous breasts, tight - ogogo!

The girl is just of that amazing type that Golnbane, van Eyck, Rembrandt and other old people: angelic face, tender, in freckles, blue, even purple eyes, cilia fan, golden cascade of hair to the priests - though stuck together, they fell, and she didn’t wash them, probably, for ages, but the color of thick gold faded and shimmered all the same ... The nipples are large, and their breasts are juicy, full, as if they don’t even fit their little faces - well, quite childish. And such a miracle they wanted to turn into a pile of steaming human flesh ...

The eyes of the miracle opened in the meantime, wider and wider. I did not know how she would react to what she saw — after all, not every day she, the young Agnes girl from medieval Bavaria, happened to be in a Moscow apartment at the end of the 21st century — and waited for any reaction.

Most of all I was afraid of a second faint. But what followed was what I expected the least.

We were at the window. Bright sunshine filled the room, shining through the lace curtains; the light blue walls and ceiling were filled with sunbeams shimmering like glare on the water. Funky lights reflected in the chandeliers of the colored lenses. Behind me, the neon "daylight" glowed in the corridor.

Agnes my drove the eyes, wide open on a half-face, on all this - on me, on wall-paper, on laces; listened to the sound of water in the bathroom. Suddenly she led her nose like a chanterelle, - I remembered that lavender flavoring was turned on in the room (the smell was used to it); an incredulous smile appeared on her face and quivered, ready to bloom or wilt. She asked:

- Paradise? ..

Her voice was weak - almost did not listen to her.

I did not understand at the beginning what this meant, and just in case I nodded:

- Paradise, paradise. - And I say to her in Staravavarsky: - Hello, Agnes.

She suddenly gasped, startled, her smile blossomed into something dazzling, and laughed loudly, like a child. I didn’t sleep, I thought anxiously, but she suddenly jumped up - where only her strength came from, and, before I could recover, I hung on my neck.

She whispered “hello” to me, and clung to me, and rubbed about me, and kissed me, and laughed with such happiness, which, perhaps, in recent centuries has never met.

Though unwashed, she was, Murzilka, - I was honestly stunned by this impulse of her. Judge for yourself: here is such a child, saved by your own hand from what the brain does not turn to think about - climbs like this to you, sticks, kisses ... Besides, it is completely naked, busty, tender is

But she suddenly seemed to remember something — she jumped off me, swayed (her legs did not hold her, after all), looked guilty — and began to say something. The voice is hoarse, does not listen, but - gentle, gentle, like a bell. He listened - Latin. Only a strange kind, wrong. Batyushka, why, she reads a prayer, I suddenly realized. The only, I suppose, what he knows.

And suddenly it dawned on me: “paradise” - yes, this is paradise! So that's what thought the poor child!

And then, in confirmation of my words, she asked:

- Where is God?

Some kind of wild pronunciation - but I still understood. And what can you tell her? I told the truth:

“God is there,” and pointed upward. - And we will go swimming now. And eat.

It sounded somehow too impressive for me. Agnes beamed, gazing enthusiastically at me, though she was reeling from exhaustion.

- And how is it: swim? She asked ....