“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
Chapter Nineteen, Part II-The Road to Glenay, by Corso
The only light in the dark room comes from the fireplace. The corners of the room are lost in deep shadows, the flickering firelight casts dancing shadows on the high ceiling and walls, over portraits of stern men and women. They look down from their lofty position on a wall, with dark expressions of disapproval … Continue reading Chapter Nineteen, Part II-The Road to Glenay, by Corso
Chapter Nineteen, Part I-The Road to Glenay, by Corso
‘Fils de pute!’ Lucien swears viciously, yanking his sword from the dead man’s body, pivots to drive his dagger into another belly, his sword slashing across another throat. He stumbles over the rocky terrain, cursing his attackers continuously dragging a man down with him grabbing for his face and banging his head repeatedly into the … Continue reading Chapter Nineteen, Part I-The Road to Glenay, by Corso
Chapter Thirteen-In the Family, by Mordaunt
The warmth of Layla’s kiss lingers on Raoul’s lips. It was unexpected, as is everything else about Layla. This is why she is compelling. She reads him perfectly, whereas he always finds himself dumbfounded. Her unwavering faith in him echoes in his mind: I will wait…I will never give up…I will love you always… Raoul … Continue reading Chapter Thirteen-In the Family, by Mordaunt
Chapter Five-Love Unsought, Love Unaltered, by Mordaunt
Love sought is good, but given unsought, is better. Shakespeare, 1601 Twelfth Night, act 3, sc.1, l.154. Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds. Shakespeare, Sonnet 116 From the window of the salon she sees him galloping down the graveled path toward the house. Even at this distance Constance worries that his … Continue reading Chapter Five-Love Unsought, Love Unaltered, by Mordaunt
Twelve Years After 