What would become of him once she left? If she left …
The situation was so maddening it was very nearly comical. Trapped in time because her host was overprotective. Margo hadn’t realized how deadly serious the Romans were about rules of hospitality. Well, she told herself with a sigh, looks like you’ll have to engineer a jailbreak tonight. Over the garden wall…
And hope the watchdogs didn’t sound an alert.
Naturally, she fell asleep.
Quintus Flaminius’ idea of dinner was a twelve-course banquet with little desserts in between and bucketsful of wine. When she woke up, the room was pitch dark. Margo blinked. Then, Ohmigod … What time is it? She groped, found her ATLS bag, dragged out her log. The chronometer’s glow revealed a terrifying set of numbers. She had less than ten minutes to make the cycling of Porta Romae.
In the middle of the night on dangerous, unfamiliar streets …
Margo shot out of the sick room as though the villa had caught fire. She jumped over the sleeping Achilles and hit the atrium running. The door was barred. The night watchman had dozed off. Margo flung aside the heavy wooden beam which held the door closed and heard the watchman’s startled cry. She jerked open the door and pelted into the street. Panic gave her speed she hadn’t thought herself capable of. She remembered the way to the Circus. And from the Circus, she could find the Time Tours wine shop where the gate would be cycling any minute. In the darkness she took several wrong turns and backtracked frantically.