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, Lines Drawn, by Mordaunt
In the library, they are recounting all those events which must determine their future. “I cannot stay,” Athos declares after a few restless moments. “Lucien knows what has transpired, how we found Alessandra, and will speak in my stead. I trust your decisions about what must be done next.” It is his heart that moves … Continue reading Chapter Sixty, Lines Drawn, by Mordaunt
Chapter Fifty-Eight, Light that Remains, by Mordaunt
“Agreed. You drive the carriage. But I will be riding right beside you.” Lucien’s patronizing tone should have annoyed Athos once, but he is no longer bothered about such things. There is planning involved in their escape, but besides insisting he drives the carriage, Athos is content that Lucien has taken charge. All Athos cares … Continue reading Chapter Fifty-Eight, Light that Remains, by Mordaunt
Chapter Thirty-Seven, Home, by Mordaunt
“My love, I no longer fear writing these words. My most precious love, There is no suffering worse than being separated from you, but what you have suffered I cannot fathom; what you may be suffering still. Louis–it is his pride that drives him, my love, and you know his pride well, for we instilled … Continue reading Chapter Thirty-Seven, Home, by Mordaunt
Chapter Thirty-Five, Harsh Recountings, by Mordaunt
Some men say an army of horses and some men say an army on foot and some men say an army of ships is the most beautiful thing on the black earth. But I say it is what you love. (Sappho, 16 transl. by Anne Carson) The journey returning from Saintonge to Glénay takes longer. They … Continue reading Chapter Thirty-Five, Harsh Recountings, by Mordaunt
Chapter Thirty-Three, Revenge and Retribution, by Mordaunt
“Coward! You hide behind the skirts of a murdering whore. Following her around like a dog on a leash. What hold does she have over you?” “Where is Alessandra?” “I forget that’s her name now. The vile murdering whore who killed your brother!” “Not my brother. The brute who attacked her. Where is she?” “You … Continue reading Chapter Thirty-Three, Revenge and Retribution, by Mordaunt
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 Nine-Stand to face me beloved, by Mordaunt
Stand to face me beloved… …and open out the grace of your eyes (Sappho 138, transl. Anne Carson) “Where is Raoul?” Athos storms into the hall of Glénay. If there is a footman at the door or servants in the hall he does not see them. What Lucien and Aramis are saying as they walk … Continue reading Chapter Twenty Nine-Stand to face me beloved, by Mordaunt
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
Twelve Years After 