Lucien takes the steps up to the ramparts two at a time, Benoit close behind him. He stops abruptly, surprised that the three boys, Olivier, Samy and Alexandre are there, huddling around Crotte listening intently as he holds forth on the merits of his cannon. “Now if M Fleury were here, he could tell ya’ … Continue reading Chapter Eighty, Poetic Justice, by Corso
Chapter Seventy-Nine, Jeu de la Bête, by Mordaunt
Jeu de la Bête was a 17th c French trick-taking card game, derived from the earlier (16th c) Spanish game Ombre (Homme, in French). It is named after the bête (beast), a term that referred to the penalty for failing to take the required number of tricks or for various infringements. The silence that envelops … Continue reading Chapter Seventy-Nine, Jeu de la Bête, by Mordaunt
Chapter Seventy-Eight, Enemies All Around, by Corso
…on the Santissima San Pedro de Arbues… A well-dressed man stands on the deck watching the Belladonna lower her sails and speaks to the man standing next to him. “You have your orders Tenientet. Keep your men armed. These,” he curls his lip at the Belldonna, “are Piratas astutos.” He walks to the cabin, knocks … Continue reading Chapter Seventy-Eight, Enemies All Around, by Corso
Chapter Seventy-Seven, Gilded Lilly, by Mordaunt
To gild refined gold, to paint the lilyTo throw a perfume on the violetTo smooth the ice, or add another hueUnto the rainbow, or with taper-lightTo seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish,Is wasteful and ridiculous excess.(William Shakespeare, King John, Act 4- Scene 2) It has been more than a fortnight since Layla’s encounter … Continue reading Chapter Seventy-Seven, Gilded Lilly, by Mordaunt
Chapter Seventy-Six, Ship of Shadows, by Corso
No one on this ship is who they seem to be. He lays awake in his hammock. He has the seaman’s trick of falling asleep as soon as he lays down, but he is plagued with blood-soaked dreams filled with fire and choking smoke, silent faceless men snarling as they chase him, others with mouths … Continue reading Chapter Seventy-Six, Ship of Shadows, by Corso
Chapter Seventy-Five, Le Mat d’ Escalier (Two-Rook Checkmate), by Mordaunt
Leaving Glénay is not easy. There is too much uncertainty for those Raoul and Marie Cessette leave behind. There is too much uncertainty for the two of them also, even though neither has revealed the true extent of their concerns to their loved ones. At the courtyard of Glénay they say their last farewells, full … Continue reading Chapter Seventy-Five, Le Mat d’ Escalier (Two-Rook Checkmate), by Mordaunt
Chapter Seventy-Four, Dreams and Plans, by Corso
“Here you are,” Sophia leans against the door frame watching her husband rest his head against the back of the tub. The room is warm as steam rises from the hot water. She closes the door against the cool air and kneels beside the tub. She dips a hand into the water, dribbling it over … Continue reading Chapter Seventy-Four, Dreams and Plans, by Corso
Chapter Seventy-Three, Ars vivendi…by Corso
The art of living…is more like wrestling than dancing, Marcus Aurelius “Lastly Madame, the Comte de la Fere has reviewed the wine list ….” Marie listens with distracted attention to M Mael, faithful boutellier at the Château de Glénay, as was his father before him, serving her father, René de Vignerot de Pontcourlay, and her … Continue reading Chapter Seventy-Three, Ars vivendi…by Corso
Chapter Seventy-Two, The Medallion, by Mordaunt
There are good moments when hope is not fleeting. Athos is not pessimistic by nature, and a life lived by the sword, on battlefields, teaches not to waste precious time in anticipation of a future that is unpredictable. Alessandra cannot be convinced that the world around her is not a dream to shield her from … Continue reading Chapter Seventy-Two, The Medallion, by Mordaunt
Chapter Seventy-One, Scribe of the Soul, by Corso
Memory is the scribe of the soul…Aristotle She cannot sleep. Sophia lays awake, staring at the drape surrounding the bed. Days of snatching minutes of sleep from the passing hours, or an hour from a passing night. Athos had insisted and Lucien tapped his foot impatiently, and she thought that once she lay down, sleep … Continue reading Chapter Seventy-One, Scribe of the Soul, by Corso
Twelve Years After 