‘For variety’s sake, let us hope he jibs this time. They must be as bored as we are,’ Crotte complains and fixes the spyglass back to his eye, watching the activity on the deck of the Belladonna. He mutters to himself and curses softly at what he sees. ‘Not in any degree and about we … Continue reading Chapter Forty-Six, The Belladonna, by Corso
Chapter Forty-Four, Corsairs of St Malo, by Corso
‘What ship is that!’ Odysseus shouts up to Crotte, high overhead above the lookout. Crotte looks down, not at Odysseus, but at a head poking tentatively through the lubber’s hole. ‘That’s it pup! Keep coming,’ he encourages the sailor climbing tentatively through the hole and into the lookout. The ‘pup’ grips the sides, his legs … Continue reading Chapter Forty-Four, Corsairs of St Malo, by Corso
Chapter Forty-Two, The Belladona Problem, by Corso
‘Wait!’ Ver and Loup stop in mid stride and turn around. Lucien stands close to his horse, hands on the saddle poised to mount. He stares, without seeing, across the inn’s rear yard. What is it that makes him hesitate? Only a few moments earlier he had been decisive. A man resembling Radu – a … Continue reading Chapter Forty-Two, The Belladona Problem, by Corso
Chapter Thirty-Nine, The Right Man, by Corso
The tavern is filling with working men looking for a drink and a game of cards or dice before returning to their homes and wives. There is a general murmur of conversation punctuated with a raucous laugh or shout of disbelief at a story or unlikely luck with the dice. On one side of the … Continue reading Chapter Thirty-Nine, The Right Man, by Corso
Chapter Thirty-Eight, Ghosts of La Rochelle, by Corso
At the thin border between night and dawn, bird song is tentative, the full chorus to a new day wait for light. Marie de Combalet lays quietly in her bed, dark behind bed drapes closed against a chilly morning. The intermittent singing notes tell her the hour is late enough for Lucien to be already … Continue reading Chapter Thirty-Eight, Ghosts of La Rochelle, by Corso
Chapter Thirty-Six, The Past is Prologue, by Corso
"What's past is prologue" William Shakespeare, The Tempest, Act 2-Scene 1 ‘Do not attack the Belladona,’ Raoul repeats in clipped tones. Lucien turns to him, brows raised. He crosses his arms over his chest. ‘Are you …telling me to not attack the Belladona?’ Lucien eyes narrow speculatively, ‘who is asking this of me?’ ‘I am,’ … Continue reading Chapter Thirty-Six, The Past is Prologue, by Corso
Chapter Thirty-four, Bitter Victory, by Corso
‘Where is Alessandra?’, ‘… in hell where she belongs.. your whore … tossed over a cliff… rotting… food for the crows and vultures…you all failed...she laughs victorious, vindictive in his face ……black, cold rage surges, Lucien grips her neck tighter… a tiny increment of pressure and he will crush her neck, her eyes are swiveling … Continue reading Chapter Thirty-four, Bitter Victory, by Corso
Chapter Thirty-Two The Whip of Justice, by Corso
Tremble, thou wretch,That hast within thee undivulged crimesUnwhipped of justice. (Shakespeare, King Lear) Athos aims his boot at the heavy oak door, it flies open, and he rushes into a chaotic scene, Lucien hard on his heels. Bullets ricochet, the harsh bite of exploding gunpowder stings his nose. He gulps air coughing and choking on … Continue reading Chapter Thirty-Two The Whip of Justice, by Corso
Chapter Thirty-The Battle at Saintonge, by Corso
Lucien cannot feel his feet anymore. He moves woodenly, arms aching from the hours held over his head, fingers frozen and gripping his sword wrapped in burlap. The freezing cold has penetrated deep through skin and muscle to the very marrow of his bones, moving up through his body to his chest. He pushes through … Continue reading Chapter Thirty-The Battle at Saintonge, by Corso
Chapter Twenty-Eight, Bourbon les eaux, by Corso
Lucien lays awake, unable to sleep and somewhere in the hours past midnight he gives up. He dresses quickly, throwing his heavy winter cape over him and walks through the quiet inn. Outside, the air is still, a deep cold stings his face. The road in front of the inn is barely illuminated in dim … Continue reading Chapter Twenty-Eight, Bourbon les eaux, by Corso
Twelve Years After 