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Love and Honor

Page 43

by Harry Samkange


  “Do feel free to write to me whenever you have need. You shall always remain a most cherished daughter to me,” Blaise said, kissing her forehead, then her cheeks a final time before turning to depart.

  Sérolène moved to stand behind the baron, thinking of the extraordinary admission the marquis had made, that she had been betrothed in secret to Nicolas. She closed her eyes, remembering how Nicolas had kissed her goodbye on the night they had first met, the way he had looked into her eyes, stroking her face gently with his hand, slowly kissing her forehead, then her nose, then each eyelid; his benediction of kisses tracing the figure of a cross upon her face. The last kiss, on her lips, had been the most exquisite. Soft, tender, honest -- binding himself, his love, and his honor to her in a promise of enduring faithfulness. How was it possible that anyone else could love her that ardently and that sincerely? How could anyone think that she could ever love another the way she still loved him?

  “Thank you, my dearest Uncle,” she said, grasping the baron’s hand in hers. He turned briefly to meet her gaze, his face revealing his deep concern over her continued well-being.

  “For what, my dear?” he asked softly, feeling the pangs of his own guilt that he had just this morning had to tell her the news that she would not be going to Paris with the rest of the family as she had thought, but to the convent in Troyes instead, a prior arrangement of his wife’s that he now bitterly regretted. He had expected Sérolène to protest most strongly, knowing her sometimes volatile temperament. To his chagrin, she had simply nodded her head, receiving the news without displaying any reaction whatsoever, as if matters of this world no longer concerned her in the least.

  “For believing in us both. For saying yes to the impossible,” Sérolène said, embracing him tenderly, planting a soft kiss upon his cheek.

  “I’m so very sorry, my dear. So very sorry indeed,” the baron said.

  All the other passengers had departed, only the Montferrauds and Salvagnacs remaining. Francis led the remaining group solemnly off the ship, escorting Julienne down the ramp into the second yellow carriage, the marquis travelling alone in the first, which he and Nicolas had been meant to share. The marquis walked down the ramp alone, his hands clasped behind his back, struggling stoically with the heavy burden of his misfortune and the now unfamiliar practice of walking upon solid and unmoving ground. He stepped into the carriage and seated himself with dignity, nodding to the Salvagnacs, who were the last to leave the ship. His eyes remained fixed upon Sérolène, his mouth full of the bitter taste known by all parents who have been forced to suffer the anguish of outliving their own children.

  XVI. Epilogue - No Coin for the Ferryman

  Petrus Lerescat had worked hard all his life. As a fisherman, his living and his passion was the sea. Usually he stayed well within the safe shore currents of the Bassin d’Arachon to ply his trade, but today being the day of Ste. Jeanne de Chantal[7][7], he had ventured out into the waters off Cap Ferret on a hunch of fisherman’s intuition, following the path of a diving bird of prey. It was an eagle by the looks of it and a lucky one, having led him to a succession of schools of fish which he had eagerly loaded into his nets. He’d just hauled in his latest take north of Cap Ferret, preparing to set sail for home with a full catch, when the lucky bird began circling something farther out to sea. He weighed the decision of going back or following the eagle, eventually deciding to trust the bird that had led him to a very profitable day’s labor, despite the risk of being drawn out to sea by the outgoing tide, should the wind turn capricious and fail him.

  Unfurling his small sail, he set off in pursuit of the circling predator. As he neared the point around which the eagle circled, he saw in the distance a small sail-less boat being tossed about aimlessly on the waves. Wondering if a fellow fisherman might be in trouble, he set his course straight for it. After several minutes he came near enough to see that the craft was abandoned. That’s not a fishing boat. That’s a ship’s launch! How by Neptune did it come to find itself here? Did it slip its moorings and come loose? Or is it perhaps, the only surviving remnant of a ship that met with disaster? he wondered, deciding to come directly alongside it just to be sure it was empty. As he approached the boat, his lucky talisman darted toward him with a loud screech, picking up a fish from his catch in its talons and abruptly flying off with its easiest meal of the day.

  “Oh ho ho!” Petrus laughed, happy that the bird had come only for a quick meal and not his hat.

  “I suppose you’re entitled to it. After all, it was you that led me to them,” he said merrily.

  The launch knocked up against his boat, reminding him again of his original purpose in venturing out to it. Peering down inside it, he was shocked to discover a partially clothed body lying on its side at the bottom of the launch. More surprising was that what clothes the body did have were copiously stained with blood.

  Poor bugger! he thought to himself, tying the launch securely to his own small craft, wondering how long the man had been dead. He stepped carefully into the smaller boat to find out for himself, turning the body over gently. To his utter surprise he heard an audible groan.

  “Alive?” he said doubtfully. He put his head to the stranger’s chest, hearing a faint heartbeat.

  “By God but you’re a mess, aren’t you? How’d you end up with so many wounds?” he wondered aloud, noticing the makeshift bandages around the stranger’s neck, arm, and thigh that looked to have been fashioned from the remnants of the man’s shirt. The rear torso was covered with a series of cuts and gashes that looked to have been made with something sharp. Most had not been dressed at all, but were thick with dark dried blood. There was a large raised scar on the upper left arm that looked particularly nasty, but older than the other wounds, and a purplish wound in the back that was still oozing. For a moment Petrus hesitated, wondering if it was perhaps best to abandon this unexpected catch to the sea. Turning the body from its side onto its back, he noted the handsome youthful face and abruptly decided against that course of action.

  “You’re no more than a boy, by the looks of it. Well, it’s your lucky day, whoever you are. Ste. Jeanne is the patron saint of the forgotten, and you certainly look to be that. But now you’re with old Petrus and you’ve been found,” the fisherman declared resolutely.

  He dressed the open wounds as best as he could and then fetched a gourd of water from his own boat, pouring some down the boy’s throat and around his lips, which were dry and chapped. For a brief moment the boy’s eyes opened, their color a very deep shade of green, like none Petrus had ever seen.

  “Hey there, can you hear me? Can you tell me your name or where you’ve come from?” Petrus asked eagerly, hoping to find out something about the stranger, but the light in the boy’s eyes went out as quickly as it had come.

  “We’ve got to get you back to shore and quickly. No telling how long you’ve been out here or when you last had any food or water,” Petrus said, leaving his water pouch with the stranger in case he should awaken. Climbing back into his own boat, he checked the tow line again and raised his sail. It billowed in the full wind, the boat surging forward in response.

  “Hang on, my lad. You’ve made it this far. Once we’re ashore my Mirande will have you put back together in no time, or Petrus Lerescat’s no Gascon!” he declared, laughing loudly into the wind as his small ship leapt forward, the luck of the day belonging to him and his very unexpected catch.

  XVII. APPENDIX

  Principal Characters (Book One)

  House of Montferraud

  Nicolas Étienne Alexandre Hyacinthe-Christophe de Montferraud d’Argentolle - (Chevalier and Vicomte d’Argentolle)

  Édouard Charles Pierre Marie François de Montferraud de Blaise - (Chevalier de Perinne, Marquis de Blaise)

  Francis Christophe Alexandre Honoré de Montferraud de Marbéville - (Chevalier and Comte de Marbéville)

  Ouragon Galtung van Hardanger de Montferraud de Blaise - (Marquise de Blaise)

  Sérol
ène Adélaïde Isabelle de Saint-Giresse de La Bouhaire - (Vicomtesse de La Bouhaire)

  Guy Christian Hervé Rocheforte de Salvagnac - (Baron de Salvagnac)

  Agnès Caroline Marie de Saint-Giresse de Salvagnac - (Baronne de Salvagnac)

  Julienne Claire Sophie Rocheforte de Salvagnac - (Comtesse de Marbéville)

  Éléonore Louisa Charlotte Rocheforte de Salvagnac

  Historical personages of note

  Louis-Philippe de Rigaud, Marquis de Vaudreuil (October 28, 1724 – December 14, 1802) second in command of the French Navy during the American Revolutionary War.

  Nicolas Marie Léonor de Saint-Mauris, Comte, then Prince de Montbarrey (1732-1796) French politician. Secretary of State for War in 1778. Forced to leave that office two years later by Marie-Antoinette. Retired to his château near Besançon after the storming of the Bastille. Emigrated in 1791.

  Others of note (non-historical personages)

  Charlotte Marie du Plessis de Talonge - (Comtesse de Talonge)

  Madame Tarnaut - Governess to the Vicomtesse de La Bouhaire

  Monsignor Arnaud - Priest whose jurisdiction includes Caracol. In charge of education of Montferrauds

  Vice-Amiral de Baudrie - (Comte de Morlaix, Commander of the escort squadron)

  Lieutenant Gabriel Antoine Fortier - Officer of the Fantassin, friend to Nicolas

  Madame Dupluie - socialite and climber

  Virginie Dupluie - daughter of Madame Dupluie

  * * *

  * * *

  [1] A pejorative term at the time for Blacks

  [2] Embrace me, kiss me, hold me. Breath against breath, breathe life into me,

  Give me thousands and thousands of kisses, I beg you.

  My Love wants all, my love is lawless.

  From Dawn till dusk I wait. My love wants only you

  [3] The most distinguished rank of nobility

  [4] A well-known women’s prison of the time in Paris.

  [5] Audacity! More Audacity! Always Audacity!

  [6] The Ordre Royal et Militaire de Saint-Louis was a storied order founded by Louis XIV to award distinguished officers in service. Membership in the order conveyed nobility and knighthood on its initiates and hereditary nobility to a Knight’s son and grandson in addition to a sizeable pension. Ten years’ service as an officer was the normal consideration for admittance.(Wikipedia)

  [7] August 21st.

  Table of Contents

  BOOK ONE LOVE AND HONOR by H.M. SAMKANGE

  XVI. Epilogue - No Coin for the Ferryman

  The CHEVALIER D'ARGENTOLLE.. 2

  BOOK ONE LOVE AND HONOR by H.M. SAMKANGE.. 2

  Outskirts Press, Inc. Denver, Colorado. 2

  II. Discoveries. 7

  * 12

  III. Alliance. 27

  * 42

  IV. Runaway Horses. 46

  * 62

  ** 71

  *** 76

  **** 79

  V. Breath Against Breath. 84

  VI. Recovery. 96

  * 99

  ** 131

  *** 132

  **** 136

  *****. 138

  VII. Casus Belli 139

  * 141

  ** 146

  *** 160

  **** 161

  *****. 165

  VIII. Beaux Gestes. 172

  IX. Decisions of Import 187

  * 200

  ** 204

  *** 211

  X. The Dirk and the Sword. 226

  * 232

  ** 236

  *** 249

  **** 253

  *****. 264

  ******. 278

  *******. 285

  XI. Running the Gauntlet 288

  * 293

  ** 298

  *** 307

  XII. First Encounter 312

  * 320

  ** 325

  *** 329

  **** 341

  XIII. Victory’s Hard Price. 350

  * 363

  ** 371

 

 

 


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