The slave market was almost empty. Somehow he’d expected more than this dismal, dirty, flea bitten courtyard. It looked like the arse end of somewhere civilization had not so much forgotten as had been glad to cast aside. Well, that was time travel for you. Set the dial to a period that sounds romantic, hit the big red button and look what you end up with! Typical really. After the week he’d had this just finished it off nicely. And if anyone spoke English here he’d eat his library card.
Manly Norscot sighed heavily, "Right. Let's find this ruddy git then and get home before tea time shall we?" He strode off, the goat trotting quietly beside him, his pocket watch dangling from its mouth.
There wasn’t much to the city. How it had ever became one of the crossroads of civilization was beyond him. In fact even calling it a city was a bit ambitious. It was more like a ragged village rather full of its own self-importance. But everywhere had to start somehow he supposed. Why Dr. Laramie had chosen this era was a bit of a puzzle. The Renaissance might have been a better choice, but as that was at least three hundred years in the future he’d have to make the best of it, Norscot decided. No chance of getting an autograph from a young Leonardo Da Vinci on this trip.