“They have puppy dogs and Alya also brought a bird, but the poor thing died on the trip. Her betrothed gave her a beautiful, gilded cage with a new bird. Alya goes everywhere with Belkis and Fatima, and she has dark hair like me. Did you know we are same age, we are both to … Continue reading Chapter Ninety-Nine, The Petal Ship, by Corso
Chapter Ninety-Seven, Faber est suae quisque fortunae, by Corso
“Every man is the artisan (or maker) of his own fortune…’ “What are all these lists?” Lucien leans over Sophia’s escritoire to inspect the piles of parchment. “Shoo,” she says waving him away from her desk, “I have a system and you are making a mess of it.” “Do sit down dear, you seem hungry,” … Continue reading Chapter Ninety-Seven, Faber est suae quisque fortunae, by Corso
Chapter Ninety-Five, What Really Happened at Le Maupertus? by Corso
The tavern door swings shut, every man’s eye watching the blonde woman sweep from the tavern, armed men in her wake. Renacer watches the door, as though expecting her to return and give him one last cold disdainful look. He chuckles to himself as he would not mind another glimpse of the arrogant tilt of … Continue reading Chapter Ninety-Five, What Really Happened at Le Maupertus? by Corso
Chapter Ninety-Three, Ducunt Volentem, Nolentem Trahunt…”Fate leads the willing, and drags the unwilling, by Corso”
He knows he is dreaming… the smell comes first…dank, putrid…his chest clutches at the stench before she appears out of the gloom, her dress streaked with dirt, fair hair that once curled around a pretty face hangs lank and dirty from muddy water. She has a stumbling walk, arms reaching, mouth stretched wide into a … Continue reading Chapter Ninety-Three, Ducunt Volentem, Nolentem Trahunt…”Fate leads the willing, and drags the unwilling, by Corso”
Chapter Ninety-Two, Next Moves, by Corso
“This is a good list Paul,” Lucien studies the paper carefully. “We choose one or two from each of the Baltic ports, Ireland and ….” He runs his finger down the page, considering each ship, seeking the right combination of distant ports, cargo and captains. “Susa and Algiers,” he looks over the page at Paul … Continue reading Chapter Ninety-Two, Next Moves, by Corso
Chapter Ninety, Calculating Strategy, by Corso
Dawn on day one… The sun’s advance is heralded by a brilliant band of yellow, pink and gold hovering at the edge of the earth. In the dark crowded yard, under flickering lamplight and pending dawn, the dust is rising. Carriages and wagons are lined up, the horses moving restively in the traces, bobbing their … Continue reading Chapter Ninety, Calculating Strategy, by Corso
Chapter Eighty-Nine, Family Near and Far, by Corso
…Glenay… Lucien throws down the quill and rubs his eyes, flexing his neck side to side. There is a knot between his shoulders. He blows out his breath and looks toward the sputtering fireplace, standing to put fresh logs on it. “Which one of us is in charge of this fire?” Lucien inquires gruffly, positions … Continue reading Chapter Eighty-Nine, Family Near and Far, by Corso
Chapter Eighty-Seven, The Riddle of Rochefort, by Corso
…Glenay… He is still holding her hand, carrying the lantern in his other hand as they enter the house and go up the stairs. Lucien turns toward their bedchamber when he feels her hand slip from his. “What?” he says moving back to her. “Come with me.” She turns in the opposite direction. “Shall I … Continue reading Chapter Eighty-Seven, The Riddle of Rochefort, by Corso
Chapter Eighty-Five, Tangents, by Corso
Lucien crouches down to add wood to a fire already burning briskly. He feels the heat against his face and stands, with one hand braced on the mantle, watching the flames. Behind him, Porthos and d’ Artagnan discuss the return to Paris, details of assembling their families, servants, guards and belongings, how many horses, how … Continue reading Chapter Eighty-Five, Tangents, by Corso
Chapter Eighty-Three, Tranquillitas ante tempestatem…(a deceptive calm before chaos), by Corso
...the coast of Normandy... On a windswept promontory overlooking the restless waters of the Atlantic ocean a small priory is perched. Ocean waves crash against the cliffs, spray rising to mist the ancient stone walls, westerly winds howl and seep through thinly mortared rock. In a narrow monk’s bare cell, a naked man kneels on … Continue reading Chapter Eighty-Three, Tranquillitas ante tempestatem…(a deceptive calm before chaos), by Corso
Twelve Years After 