Set title

by O’Donnell, Laurel

  It wasn’t the first time someone in the employ of the Polani fleet had politely intimated he might not have the ultimate authority, and probably wouldn’t be the last, but he rather enjoyed the diplomatic game. He was his father’s son. “Signora Zara is indisposed, as you know, and understands fully the Venetian docks are no place for a woman with child.”

  He refrained from mentioning the tantrum that had erupted when he’d forbidden her presence at the inspection of the refurbished Nunziata. Living with a woman used to having her own way was sometimes a diplomatic tour-de-force in itself.

  He looked up to the forecastle. Bruno stood there with legs braced and hands clasped behind his back, looking out to sea. He made a silent promise—one day he would take his brother-by-marriage on a voyage. Sailing was in his blood.

  He pointed to the forecastle. “I’ve discussed the matter with the master of the fleet and he is in full agreement.”

  Rospo followed his gaze. A rare smile broke out on his face. At least Kon thought it might be a smile. “Sì,” he croaked.

  “Very well,” Lupomari replied with a hint of impatience. “I await your instructions. In the meantime, we must catch the noon tide if we are to make it to Istria before nightfall.”

  Kon scanned the cargo. The Nunziata was crammed with every resource Jakov’s missives had indicated his people lacked. “You’re right. It’s a short voyage, and you’ve fair weather.” He beckoned Bruno, and together they left the ship, though the young man’s sullen pout and dragging feet betrayed reluctance.

  He put an arm around his brother’s shoulders as they walked along the dock. “Zara is waiting anxiously. You can describe the refurbishments to her. We’ll practice skimming stones on the way.”

  This seemed to lift Bruno’s spirits but the frown returned when they were stopped by a man he didn’t recognize, a wealthy merchant by the look of his garb.

  “Mein Herr von Wolfenberg?”

  Being addressed in his own language took him completely by surprise. “Ja,” he replied hesitantly.

  The man bowed, then produced a slim metal tube from his sleeve. “Ruprecht Klauber, from Hamburg. I have a letter for you. From your family.”

  Zara rolled her eyes and wiped her brow. “You’re not listening,” she complained after the third unsuccessful attempt to extricate her body from the armchair in her chamber.

  Ottavia dragged her attention away from the document on her lap. “I’m sorry. I was reading Jakov’s letter. What did you say?”

  Zara prayed for patience and pasted a smile on her face. “I requested your help getting out of this chair. You’ve read the missive at least ten times.”

  Ottavia chuckled indulgently. “He misses me.”

  Zara couldn’t fathom how a sophisticated, mature nobleman like Jakov might be interested in her selfish sister, but she had other things to occupy her thoughts, like how she was going to endure another three months of pregnancy.

  Ottavia came to her feet and offered a hand. “You’re already huge,” she said, as if she’d read Zara’s thoughts. “Do you think it might be twins?”

  Feeling slightly dizzy once she was on her feet, Zara clung to her sister. She had considered the possibility. “Kon told me his mother was a twin.”

  As if conjured by the mention of his name, her husband entered the chamber. But his pallor was alarming. Her knees buckled and she slumped back into the chair. “What’s wrong? Is it the Nunziata?”

  He stared hard at Ottavia. “Can you leave us alone, sister?”

  She frowned but took her leave immediately.

  Zara clenched her fists. “I can’t bear this. What is it?”

  He held out a trembling hand. A small metal tube lay in his palm. “It’s a letter. From Wolfenberg.”

  “At long last,” she exclaimed. “What does it say?”

  He shook his head. “I haven’t had the courage to open it.”

  She understood. He loved his family dearly and feared he had disappointed them. “Shall I read it to you?”

  Relief shone in his eyes as he handed her the tube. She squealed when he scooped her up as if she were a feather and sat in the chair with her in his lap, one big hand on his babe. “No matter the contents of this missive,” she assured him, pulling the parchment from its sheath, “remember I love you, and nothing will ever change that.”

  He inhaled deeply. “Could it be twins?”

  She smiled and unrolled the document.

  Konrad, my dearest brother.

  “Must be from Sophia,” he said. “Johann and Lute wouldn’t address me as dearest.”

  We are more than relieved to hear you are safe and well. Your Zara sounds like the perfect partner for you, and who could have imagined my pious little brother would marry the mistress of a fleet? We are glad you are happy.

  “Huh,” he murmured.

  She scanned the next few lines and swallowed the lump in her throat before continuing.

  Brandt and I travelled to Wolfenberg when Johann informed us Papa was dying. He passed away a fortnight since. Do not be sad. You are aware it was his dearest wish to be reunited with Mama in the hereafter.

  Zara had never known Kon’s parents, never met his siblings, but her hands trembled and tears blurred her vision as her husband shook with the effort of controlling his emotions.

  Please be comforted, Konrad Dieter. Papa died with your letter in his hands and a smile on his face. I believe sheer determination kept him alive until he was assured you were safe. Your name was the last thing he uttered.

  Konrad stiffened and became so still she feared he had stopped breathing. Her rapidly beating heart calmed when his thumb began to stroke her belly. She hurried on.

  Johann is Count von Wolfenberg now, of course. He and Kristina are well, as are Lute and Francesca. Imagine Lute is a count! And a good one according to Johann. We are all doing our part to populate the world with more little Rödermarks and von Wolfenbergs.

  You are forever in our hearts and we hope you and Zara will travel to visit us one day.

  God be with you.

  Your loving sister, Sophia Agneta, Countess Rödermark.

  Zara put her arms around her beloved husband and knew the burden of guilt he’d carried for too long had lifted from his shoulders. “Yes, I believe you’ve fathered twins,” she whispered.

  “Gut,” he replied.

  He carried her to the bed and they clung together until the shadows lengthened.

  HISTORICAL NOTES

  MEDIEVAL RELIGION

  As you’ve read, the question of faith dominates Kon’s life. It’s not the intention of the story to promote one religion over another, or indeed to promote religion at all. The Church played a major role in every facet of medieval life and my goal was to probe into the mind of a medieval man who has lost his previously unquestioned faith in his God and in himself.

  IMBECILE

  Political correctness precludes the use of this word nowadays, but even in the early twentieth century it was used by census takers in England to describe children in a household who were mentally challenged. My great grandparents had a son who was severely injured in an accident that resulted in brain damage. On the 1891 census he is described as “Delicate”, but on the 1901 census he is referred to as an “Imbecile.”

  COG

  The workhorse of early medieval shipping. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cog_(ship). With their flat-bottomed hulls, cogs were ideal for navigating among shallow, tidal areas. Cogs were often brought in at high tide and left high and dry to be unloaded.

  STEORBORD AND LARBORD

  Today, Starboard and Port. These terms come from old boating practices. Before ships had rudders, they were steered by use of a specialized oar. This oar was held by a sailor located towards the back of the ship. However, like most of the rest of society, there were many more right-handed sailors than left-handed ones. This meant that the right-handed sailors holding the steering oar used to stand on the right side of the ship. The word st
arboard comes from Old English steorbord, literally meaning the side on which the ship is steered. The old English term steorbord descends from the Old Norse words stýri meaning “rudder” and borð meaning “side of a ship”. Similarly, the term for the left side of the boat, port, is derived from the practice of sailors mooring on the left side (i.e., the larboard or loading side) so as to prevent the steering boards from being crushed. Because the words larboard and starboard sounded too similar to be easily distinguished, larboard was changed to port.

  MAKURIA (NUBIA)

  There is good information on the Internet about the African kingdoms of the Nile south of Egypt. Egypt and Makuria developed close and peaceful relations when Egypt was ruled by the Fatimids. The Shi'ite Fatimids had few allies in the Muslim world, and they turned to the southern Christians of Nubia as allies. Fatimid power also depended upon the slaves provided by Makuria, who were used to man the Fatimid army. Trade between the two states flourished until circa 1171AD.

  RAGUSA

  Ragusa was the medieval name of the walled city of Dubrovnik.

  FELOZ

  This was the name of an actual slave ship from another, perhaps even darker time in history. Take a deep breath before you read http://www.eyewitnesstohistory.com/slaveship.htm.

  KERKYRA

  Better known as the island of Corfu.

  EARTHQUAKES

  The Ionian Islands are situated on one of Europe's most notorious faults, capable of producing earthquakes causing widespread damage and considerable loss of life.

  The island of Zakynthos (Zante) suffered a series of four severe earthquakes in August 1953, resulting in the total destruction of its infrastructure. The third and most destructive of these quakes, registering 7.3 on the Richter Scale, had its epicentre directly on the southern tip of the nearby island of Kefalonia, also causing widespread destruction there.

  Starting in the early morning hours of 4 April 2006, a series of moderate to strong earthquakes occurring on an almost daily basis began shaking the entire island. On 11 April, however, the phenomenon intensified in both magnitude and rate of events. At 03:02 local time of that day, a powerful, magnitude 5.7 earthquake hit the area, only to be followed by an even stronger tremor, registering 5.9 on the Richter Scale, at 8:30 p.m.

  That same evening, two more earthquakes shook the region, sending scores of terrified people into the streets. The earthquakes had a preliminary moment magnitude of 5.8 and 5.4 respectively.

  BLUE CAVE

  Numerous natural "Blue Caves" are cut into cliffs around Cape Skinari on the northern tip of Zante. They are accessible only by small boat and weren’t actually discovered until 1897. I changed the location of Kon’s blue cave to the south-western tip of the island in order to bring it closer to the tarpits of Keriou. There are caves in this location but they are not the famous Blue Caves.

  TAR

  Naturally occurring in this case and more likely what we know today as bitumen or asphalt from the Greek ἄσφαλτος ásphaltos.

  NARENTINES

  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Narentines will lead to good information on these medieval pirates.

  DOGE OF VENICE

  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doge

  BASILICA DI SAN MARCO

  This popular tourist attraction was originally built as the Doge’s private chapel, though of course the building that stands today is larger and more elaborate.

  ISTRIA

  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Istria

  ROSPO

  You guessed it—Italian for “toad”.

  ABOUT ANNA

  Thank you for reading Faithful Heart. If you’d like to leave a review where you purchased the book, and/or on Goodreads, I would appreciate it. Reviews contribute greatly to an author’s success.

  I’d love you to visit my newly revamped website and my Facebook page, Anna Markland Novels. Tweet me @annamarkland, join me on Pinterest, or sign up for my newsletter. Follow me on BookBub and be the first to know when my next book is released.

  Passion conquers whatever obstacles a hostile medieval world can throw in its path. My page-turning adventures have earned me a place on Amazon’s All-Star list.

  Besides writing, I have two addictions-crosswords and genealogy, probably the reason I love research. I am a fool for cats. My husband is an entrepreneur who is fond of boasting he’s never had a job. I live on Canada’s scenic west coast now, but I was born and raised in the UK and I love breathing life into European history.

  Escape with me to where romance began.

  I hope you come to know and love my cast of characters as much as I do.

  I’d like to acknowledge the assistance of my critique partners, Reggi Allder, Jacquie Biggar, Sylvie Grayson and LizAnn Carson.

  CHARMING THE SCHOLAR

  Book II of The Seven Curses of London Series

  A Victorian Romance

  LANA WILLIAMS

  CHARMING THE SCHOLAR

  BY LANA WILLIAMS

  A reclusive scholar

  A charming lady

  An undeniable love

  Oliver, Viscount Frost, must end his reclusive ways to uncover the mysteries of an ancient text used by a ringleader of professional thieves. He emerges from his books only to find Lady Julia Hopwood blocking his path.

  Julia’s friendly nature and charming smile hide her desperate efforts to keep her father from succumbing to melancholy and illness. The purchase of an old book for his collection is her latest attempt to brighten his spirits. When the gruff viscount demands she hand it over, she refuses, even when it plunges her into a shadowy side of London she barely knew existed.

  The lovely lady is a beam of light in Oliver’s dark world, but he needs the book. Passions rise as the pair cross paths, each hiding secrets even as they share stolen kisses. Julia is drawn to the solemn scholar, wanting to ease the unhappiness she senses deep inside him. Can Oliver release his demons to help Julia or will their secrets keep them apart?

  Other books in The Seven Curses of London series:

  Trusting the Wolfe, a novella, Book .5 on Amazon

  Loving the Hawke, Book 1 on Amazon

  Rescuing the Earl, Book 3 on Amazon

  Dancing Under the Mistletoe, A Novella, Book 4 on Amazon

  Tempting the Scoundrel, Book 5 on Amazon

  Falling for the Viscount, Book 6 on Amazon

  Daring the Duke, Book 7 on Amazon

  Wishing Upon A Christmas Star, A Novella, Book 8 on Amazon

  Ruby’s Gamble, A Novella, on Amazon

  Gambling for the Governess, Book 9, Coming Soon!

  Want to make sure you know when my next book is released? Sign up for my newsletter.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “The happily ignorant reader, whose knowledge of the criminal classes is confined to an occasional glance through the police court and Sessions cases as narrated in his morning newspaper, will be shocked and amazed to learn that within the limits of the City of London alone, an army of male and female thieves, twenty thousand strong, find daily and nightly employment.”

  ~The Seven Curses of London, II. Professional Thieves

  By James Greenwood, 1869

  London, England, June 1870

  Oliver Bartley, Viscount Frost, stared at the open carriage door, searching desperately for the righteous anger that had propelled him from the sanctuary of his home twenty minutes earlier.

  “My lord?” Tubbs, his loyal servant, inquired as he held the door, the bustling street filled with shoppers anything but beckoning.

  Oliver could see the concern in the man’s eyes, and it irritated him to no end. Part valet, part footman, Tubbs had served with him in the Navy and knew him far too well.

  With a muffled oath, Oliver pushed off the tufted, black leather bench and alighted, doing his best to ignore the panic humming through him. He had no choice. He desperately needed the book he’d ordered from Ames & Clarke, Booksellers.

  One of the shop’s proprietors, Mr. Clarke, had s
ent a message yesterday stating it had arrived and would be available for pick up this very day. When Tubbs had returned from the shop earlier without the ancient text, Oliver had been astounded.

  Tubbs had only been able to advise that there had been a “terrible mistake” and “the book had been pledged to another.” Oliver wasn’t accepting such nonsense. He had to have the book and was here to make the man deliver what he’d promised. The rare tome was his only clue to help stop Jasper Smithby, a criminal mastermind who entrapped young girls into a life of prostitution and orchestrated a dangerous ring of thieves, along with numerous other unspeakable vices.

  When Nathaniel Hawke, a renewed friend and former fellow Navy officer, had visited him last week and explained that girls as young as nine were being lured with false promises of high wages and easy work as maids only to be placed in brothels, either in London or abroad, Oliver had been appalled. How something so terrible could happen without drawing more notice and outrage was shocking.

  Apparently, Smithby, the architect of this and many other vile schemes in London, was using The Book of Secrets to build his power and thus convince others to do his bidding.

  Hawke had shown Oliver the young girls crossing Blackfriars Bridge the previous week and had risked his life on more than one occasion to try to stop the villain from tricking them. The least Oliver could do was use his scholarly expertise in medieval works to help.