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
Chapter Twenty Five-Thermal Pools at La Roche-Posay, by Corso
The salon has a pleasant hum of conversation, a warm crackling fire and the soft clink of glasses on silver trays carried by efficient liveried footman. From one corner of the salon comes the clipped twang of the harpsichord. Rayya sits next to Bianca watching her small fingers and whispering encouragement. At one table Charlotte, … Continue reading Chapter Twenty Five-Thermal Pools at La Roche-Posay, by Corso
ChapterTwenty Four-No Choice but the Path Before, by Corso
‘Open the gate!’ The guards look down from the ramparts at the horse and rider and call down the order. The massive gate at Glenay groans under its weight and Lucien rides into the central courtyard. Yawning stable boys quickly appear stuffing their arms into the sleeves of their jackets. He slides from the saddle, … Continue reading ChapterTwenty Four-No Choice but the Path Before, by Corso
Chapter TwentyTwo-The Red Herring and the Eel, by Corso
Lucien opens his eyes to darkness, sluggish with heavy sleep, the bed beside him empty. He shoves the drape aside and reaches for his cloak and the night candle. Cold air wakes him as he strides to the door and down the dim corridor where a light beckons from a slightly opened door. Sophia is … Continue reading Chapter TwentyTwo-The Red Herring and the Eel, by Corso
Chapter Twenty-The Château d ‘Glenay, by Corso
Mercenaries, wagons, and horses fill up the yard, the stable and the outbuildings. Some accompany the others, crowding into the tavern room, the serving women rush food to the tables, other servants carry jugs of steaming water and linens up the stairs. In between refilling flasks of wine and ordering his servants to hurry the … Continue reading Chapter Twenty-The Château d ‘Glenay, by Corso
Twelve Years After 