The bedchamber is imbued with hazy light from a handful of flickering candles and the glow from the fireplace. There are others here. Shuffling sounds, and distant hushed voices that she recognizes: the physicians, the nurse, and the midwife. She cannot understand their words. Only Sophia’s whisper reaches her. “I will return in the morning,” … Continue reading Chapter Eighty-Two, Lingering Shadows, by Mordaunt
Chapter Eighty-One, Lèon, by Mordaunt
In the heat of midday the stonewall feels pleasantly cool against Athos’ back. He exhales loudly as he sits at the bench, reaching for his flask of water. “Was that too much for you, Old Man?” Seated next to Athos, Lucien sounds equally out of breath. Just like Athos, he is covered in mud and … Continue reading Chapter Eighty-One, Lèon, 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-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, Veiled Child, by Mordaunt
Outside the door of Alessandra’s chamber the only sounds are the shuffling of the people coming and going and their careful whispering. It was not the same when Sylvie gave birth. It was not the same when Petite was born. It was never this quiet. Seated next to Athos at the bench outside Alessandra’s room, … Continue reading Chapter Seventy, Veiled Child, by Mordaunt
Chapter Sixty-eight, Ne m’oublie pas (Forget me not), by Mordaunt
Athos has been here before and remembers every painful moment. At Bragelonne when Sylvie died. At Saint Denis before Petite was born. After Rouen, when he followed Alessandra to Venice. He has been here before, and yet, remembering offers him no solace. Before, he was a different man. Sophia, his sister, lays a gentle hand … Continue reading Chapter Sixty-eight, Ne m’oublie pas (Forget me not), by Mordaunt
Chapter Sixty-Six, Bitter, Painful, Necessary Truths, by Mordaunt
Constance knows she is not needed. Milady–Constance cannot think of her by any other name–is in the care of two doctors, two midwives, a nurse and those closest to her: Sophia, Elodie and their daughters, Marie Cessette who is her daughter-in-law, even the duchess d’ Aiguillon who holds masses for her twice every day in … Continue reading Chapter Sixty-Six, Bitter, Painful, Necessary Truths, by Mordaunt
Chapter Sixty-Five, Invisible Hand, by Corso
“What is that racket?” Lucien snaps open his spyglass and peers down the road. Yusuf looks through a more powerful telescope, mounted on a tripod and pointed in the same direction where a great cloud of dust is rising. “Kardes, I do believe our cannon is arriving,” “Father, are they here?” Samy, Olivier and Alexandre … Continue reading Chapter Sixty-Five, Invisible Hand, by Corso
Twelve Years After 