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-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
Chapter Sixty-One, Foundations, by Corso
“What is your opinion M Lars?” Lucien’s booted kick creates a shower of broken stone from a small hole in the wall. “Are we in danger of collapse?” The taciturn stonemason grunted, leaning forward, elbow against his knee as he scrapes away the broken debris. Silently he examines the wall, tapping his mallet against the … Continue reading Chapter Sixty-One, Foundations, by Corso
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 Forty, Phantasms of Love, by Mordaunt
The country road crests to a rocky ridge and slopes sharply downward. Riding ahead of the carriage once more, the first thing Athos sees right below him, upon reaching the top, is the tiled roof of the pretty cottage that was visible from the cove, where the tide is beginning to flood the shore, as … Continue reading Chapter Forty, Phantasms of Love, by Mordaunt
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-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-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
Twelve Years After 