Michael Stolle's Blog - Posts Tagged "uk"
a sneak preview of the 3rd book
On the road again
“Why the hell is Edo still talking to that stupid peasant?” Pierre was not only extremely irritated, but his stomach was rumbling and he was exceedingly tired. “I mean, how complicated can it be to ask for directions to Verona?”
“Seems that they have a lot to discuss… With them both being Italian, I guess they simply can’t help talking. They’ll probably take ages to get to the point, better be patient,” answered Armand, scratching his head reflectively.
Pierre watched his friend suspiciously and moved a step further away from him. “You’ve got lice!” he accused his friend.
“Could be,” Armand answered, unperturbed. “I’ll ask Jean tonight to have a look. Don’t look at me as if I’m a leper, it’s almost impossible not to catch them when you’re travelling. Come on, stop pulling faces at me!”
Pierre suddenly felt a strong urge to start scratching himself; he could almost feel an army of blood-thirsty lice crawling all over his own body. He shuddered but secretly he had to admit it. Armand was right, there was no realistic hope of escaping any of those beasts – from lice to fleas or bedbugs – as long as they were travelling and had no choice but to stay in all sorts of dubious post stations along their way.
At last Edo seemed to have finished his discussion as he was waving his hat towards his friends, gesturing them to come and join him.
“In the name of all the blessed saints, what took you so long with this peasant?” Pierre exclaimed, irritated. “Did he at least tell you the quickest way to Verona?”
Edo smiled. “Actually I didn’t ask him that particular question,” he answered calmly.
“You didn’t ask?” repeated Armand, almost mechanically.
“So why did you keep us waiting so long?” Pierre cried in frustration.
“There is the possibility that I asked him to recommend a hospitable farm or post station close by – somehow I had the inkling that my travelling companions might otherwise turn into cannibals and have me for lunch,” Edo answered with a glint of laughter in his eyes.
Pierre looked guilty. “I’m sorry, Edo, I guess I’m behaving like a spoilt child!”
“Since he’s been named a duke and kissed by King Charles, he’s become extremely difficult to deal with,” Armand commented, ignoring Pierre’s furious glances. “His lackeys usually serve a full picnic at this time of day – and he becomes really nasty if everything isn’t served exactly as he likes it.”
Edo saw Pierre kick Armand and laughed. “Sorry, I can’t offer such a treat, but the peasant did tell me that there is a noble estate nearby, so let’s spur on the horses and hope they’ll offer us a late lunch. I’m so hungry that I could devour a whole pig!”
“That sounds fabulous, I’m really hungry too. But what about Verona, then?” interrogated Pierre. “Do you know how to get there, your discussion with this man seemed to go on forever!”
“Oh, we’re not going to Verona,” Edo said casually. “We’re riding north instead.”
“But you told the innkeeper in Bergamo that we were heading to Verona in order to meet some of your relatives there.”
“Yeah, I was pretty convincing,” Edo answered smugly. “Maybe it’s about time to confess that I had a long discussion with my brother last night when you had already gone to bed.”
His glance met two curious pairs of eyes. “I must admit that my brother may be stuffy and thrifty, but indisputably he’s got the brains of the family. He made me recount our adventures in the tavern in Milan and looking calmly at the facts he came to the conclusion that Richelieu’s involvement seemed rather unlikely – which leads…”
“…which leads us directly to my murderous cousin, Henri,” Pierre groaned.
“Exactly.” Edo beamed at Pierre like a teacher encouraging a dim pupil who had – finally – understood a difficult point. “Therefore my brother instructed me to be careful and cover our tracks and suggested we ride to a remote castle in the north close to Lake Garda and stay there over Christmas. The owner of the castle is not only a close friend of the family but he also has good connections with the Venetian aristocracy and could help you to find the ring you seem to be looking for.”
“I don’t feel very comfortable imposing myself on your friends,” Pierre interjected. “Just imagine the reverse, four total strangers knocking at my door in Montrésor to spend a surprise Christmas with us!”
Edo waved nonchalantly. “Don’t worry, the owner is not only a close friend, he owes us a favour. You’ll see, he’s really very nice. We’ll have a great time – some peace and quiet will do us good after our last adventure.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying for the past two years,” Armand commented gloomily, “but somehow peace and quiet never seem to happen.”
“So tell me, what were you discussing at such length with this peasant?” Now Pierre was openly curious.
Edo laughed. “He was telling me a long, long story about all the misfortunes that have befallen members of his family lately. I think he had it all from miscarriage to the untimely death of his wife and of several of his numerous children. Oh yes, I forgot to mention the perfidious witch who put a spell on his goat.”
Pierre was shocked. “But that’s no laughing matter!”
Edo made a face. “It was so obvious, he saw our expensive clothes and thought he could cream some money off us. I don’t believe a fraction of what he told me, he sounded far too cheerful, although he tried hard to shed some tears to make the story more credible!”
“Pierre always believes in the goodness of mankind,” Armand commented drily. “It’s become quite a bad habit. So what did you answer?”
“Oh, I retaliated and I told him about our own terrible misfortunes, that we’re on our way to Verona but were robbed in Milano by gangsters who almost took our lives and haven’t a penny left for our journey – he shouldn’t even think about us being able to dispense any charity.”
“Good!” Armand beamed at Edo. “You know how to deal with this kind of bloodsucker.”
“Of course I do,” Edo answered. “Lesson number one I learned from my brother: A banker never opens his purse unless it’s to receive something!”
While they had been chatting animatedly the four riders approached at a leisurely pace a stately home, a solid old square estate built from local stone and bricks. Plaster and paint looked worn by age but strangely this only added to the dignified aspect of the building. A hysterical dog could be heard barking inside the courtyard, the only noise that seemed to disturb the peaceful winter day.
“This should be the estate the peasant described to me.” Edo looked around, appraising the building. “It certainly looks wealthy enough to offer us a decent lunch!”
As they entered the courtyard several curious servants started to gather around them, gawking at them as if they had arrived from the moon. Apparently visitors, especially strangers, were a rare occurrence – not to be missed on any account.
Jean had dismounted first and was shouting at the grooms to stir themselves and wait on his masters when the scene was interrupted by the arrival of the lady of the house. Traces of long-gone beauty were still apparent in her face but deep lines of grumpiness were matched by blazing eyes and a shrill voice as she addressed the strangers. “We have nothing to give and the master of the house is busy, he cannot receive anybody today!”
“What a witch,” Edo murmured to Armand. “I wonder how she managed to get here so fast. She must spend all her time supervising and whipping her servants into action.”
Pierre looked at her in disbelief. He had imagined himself already seated at a table loaded with delicacies – never had he expected such a bold and impolite rejection. While he was still wrestling with his disappointment and this sudden turn of events, Armand dismounted from his horse and nonchalantly approached the lady of the house. He ignored her apparent displeasure and waved his hat while bowing low as if they were at the royal court. He greeted the lady and addressed her in his charming mix of French of Italian.
“My lady, please accept my most profound apologies for our untimely intrusion. My friend, the noble Comte de Reims, and I are come from France on our way to visit friends in Verona and all we wanted to ask was a cup of water and a piece of bread. Never had we intended to disturb the lady of the house – but please let me add that I’m pleased that we did so all the same. I’m enchanted to meet a lady of timeless beauty and elegance.”
He finished his introduction with the famous smile that rarely failed to impress his female victims and – once again – Pierre could witness the immediate effect of the shameless charms of his friend. The lady of the house turned scarlet and instinctively she tried to arrange the curls of her hair while clearing her throat.
“Oh, you’re from France!” she exclaimed in a slightly croaky voice. “I love France, I spent my youth at the court of Queen Maria de Medici. I will never forget the beauty and refinement of her courts. Do you know Her Majesty, by any chance?”
I’m too young by far, thought Armand, but quickly bit his tongue and answered, “I regret that I never had the chance to meet Her Majesty, as you probably know, His Majesty and his mother are not on the best of terms… but it’s a pity that we won’t have the opportunity to exchange some words about the royal court – by chance we happen to know the present King quite well – and his mother’s sudden exile was such a scandal…”
The French Orphan
“Why the hell is Edo still talking to that stupid peasant?” Pierre was not only extremely irritated, but his stomach was rumbling and he was exceedingly tired. “I mean, how complicated can it be to ask for directions to Verona?”
“Seems that they have a lot to discuss… With them both being Italian, I guess they simply can’t help talking. They’ll probably take ages to get to the point, better be patient,” answered Armand, scratching his head reflectively.
Pierre watched his friend suspiciously and moved a step further away from him. “You’ve got lice!” he accused his friend.
“Could be,” Armand answered, unperturbed. “I’ll ask Jean tonight to have a look. Don’t look at me as if I’m a leper, it’s almost impossible not to catch them when you’re travelling. Come on, stop pulling faces at me!”
Pierre suddenly felt a strong urge to start scratching himself; he could almost feel an army of blood-thirsty lice crawling all over his own body. He shuddered but secretly he had to admit it. Armand was right, there was no realistic hope of escaping any of those beasts – from lice to fleas or bedbugs – as long as they were travelling and had no choice but to stay in all sorts of dubious post stations along their way.
At last Edo seemed to have finished his discussion as he was waving his hat towards his friends, gesturing them to come and join him.
“In the name of all the blessed saints, what took you so long with this peasant?” Pierre exclaimed, irritated. “Did he at least tell you the quickest way to Verona?”
Edo smiled. “Actually I didn’t ask him that particular question,” he answered calmly.
“You didn’t ask?” repeated Armand, almost mechanically.
“So why did you keep us waiting so long?” Pierre cried in frustration.
“There is the possibility that I asked him to recommend a hospitable farm or post station close by – somehow I had the inkling that my travelling companions might otherwise turn into cannibals and have me for lunch,” Edo answered with a glint of laughter in his eyes.
Pierre looked guilty. “I’m sorry, Edo, I guess I’m behaving like a spoilt child!”
“Since he’s been named a duke and kissed by King Charles, he’s become extremely difficult to deal with,” Armand commented, ignoring Pierre’s furious glances. “His lackeys usually serve a full picnic at this time of day – and he becomes really nasty if everything isn’t served exactly as he likes it.”
Edo saw Pierre kick Armand and laughed. “Sorry, I can’t offer such a treat, but the peasant did tell me that there is a noble estate nearby, so let’s spur on the horses and hope they’ll offer us a late lunch. I’m so hungry that I could devour a whole pig!”
“That sounds fabulous, I’m really hungry too. But what about Verona, then?” interrogated Pierre. “Do you know how to get there, your discussion with this man seemed to go on forever!”
“Oh, we’re not going to Verona,” Edo said casually. “We’re riding north instead.”
“But you told the innkeeper in Bergamo that we were heading to Verona in order to meet some of your relatives there.”
“Yeah, I was pretty convincing,” Edo answered smugly. “Maybe it’s about time to confess that I had a long discussion with my brother last night when you had already gone to bed.”
His glance met two curious pairs of eyes. “I must admit that my brother may be stuffy and thrifty, but indisputably he’s got the brains of the family. He made me recount our adventures in the tavern in Milan and looking calmly at the facts he came to the conclusion that Richelieu’s involvement seemed rather unlikely – which leads…”
“…which leads us directly to my murderous cousin, Henri,” Pierre groaned.
“Exactly.” Edo beamed at Pierre like a teacher encouraging a dim pupil who had – finally – understood a difficult point. “Therefore my brother instructed me to be careful and cover our tracks and suggested we ride to a remote castle in the north close to Lake Garda and stay there over Christmas. The owner of the castle is not only a close friend of the family but he also has good connections with the Venetian aristocracy and could help you to find the ring you seem to be looking for.”
“I don’t feel very comfortable imposing myself on your friends,” Pierre interjected. “Just imagine the reverse, four total strangers knocking at my door in Montrésor to spend a surprise Christmas with us!”
Edo waved nonchalantly. “Don’t worry, the owner is not only a close friend, he owes us a favour. You’ll see, he’s really very nice. We’ll have a great time – some peace and quiet will do us good after our last adventure.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying for the past two years,” Armand commented gloomily, “but somehow peace and quiet never seem to happen.”
“So tell me, what were you discussing at such length with this peasant?” Now Pierre was openly curious.
Edo laughed. “He was telling me a long, long story about all the misfortunes that have befallen members of his family lately. I think he had it all from miscarriage to the untimely death of his wife and of several of his numerous children. Oh yes, I forgot to mention the perfidious witch who put a spell on his goat.”
Pierre was shocked. “But that’s no laughing matter!”
Edo made a face. “It was so obvious, he saw our expensive clothes and thought he could cream some money off us. I don’t believe a fraction of what he told me, he sounded far too cheerful, although he tried hard to shed some tears to make the story more credible!”
“Pierre always believes in the goodness of mankind,” Armand commented drily. “It’s become quite a bad habit. So what did you answer?”
“Oh, I retaliated and I told him about our own terrible misfortunes, that we’re on our way to Verona but were robbed in Milano by gangsters who almost took our lives and haven’t a penny left for our journey – he shouldn’t even think about us being able to dispense any charity.”
“Good!” Armand beamed at Edo. “You know how to deal with this kind of bloodsucker.”
“Of course I do,” Edo answered. “Lesson number one I learned from my brother: A banker never opens his purse unless it’s to receive something!”
While they had been chatting animatedly the four riders approached at a leisurely pace a stately home, a solid old square estate built from local stone and bricks. Plaster and paint looked worn by age but strangely this only added to the dignified aspect of the building. A hysterical dog could be heard barking inside the courtyard, the only noise that seemed to disturb the peaceful winter day.
“This should be the estate the peasant described to me.” Edo looked around, appraising the building. “It certainly looks wealthy enough to offer us a decent lunch!”
As they entered the courtyard several curious servants started to gather around them, gawking at them as if they had arrived from the moon. Apparently visitors, especially strangers, were a rare occurrence – not to be missed on any account.
Jean had dismounted first and was shouting at the grooms to stir themselves and wait on his masters when the scene was interrupted by the arrival of the lady of the house. Traces of long-gone beauty were still apparent in her face but deep lines of grumpiness were matched by blazing eyes and a shrill voice as she addressed the strangers. “We have nothing to give and the master of the house is busy, he cannot receive anybody today!”
“What a witch,” Edo murmured to Armand. “I wonder how she managed to get here so fast. She must spend all her time supervising and whipping her servants into action.”
Pierre looked at her in disbelief. He had imagined himself already seated at a table loaded with delicacies – never had he expected such a bold and impolite rejection. While he was still wrestling with his disappointment and this sudden turn of events, Armand dismounted from his horse and nonchalantly approached the lady of the house. He ignored her apparent displeasure and waved his hat while bowing low as if they were at the royal court. He greeted the lady and addressed her in his charming mix of French of Italian.
“My lady, please accept my most profound apologies for our untimely intrusion. My friend, the noble Comte de Reims, and I are come from France on our way to visit friends in Verona and all we wanted to ask was a cup of water and a piece of bread. Never had we intended to disturb the lady of the house – but please let me add that I’m pleased that we did so all the same. I’m enchanted to meet a lady of timeless beauty and elegance.”
He finished his introduction with the famous smile that rarely failed to impress his female victims and – once again – Pierre could witness the immediate effect of the shameless charms of his friend. The lady of the house turned scarlet and instinctively she tried to arrange the curls of her hair while clearing her throat.
“Oh, you’re from France!” she exclaimed in a slightly croaky voice. “I love France, I spent my youth at the court of Queen Maria de Medici. I will never forget the beauty and refinement of her courts. Do you know Her Majesty, by any chance?”
I’m too young by far, thought Armand, but quickly bit his tongue and answered, “I regret that I never had the chance to meet Her Majesty, as you probably know, His Majesty and his mother are not on the best of terms… but it’s a pity that we won’t have the opportunity to exchange some words about the royal court – by chance we happen to know the present King quite well – and his mother’s sudden exile was such a scandal…”
The French Orphan
# 2 BEST SELLER IN THE UK
today the French Orphan is rated # 2 in the UK in kindle historical fiction freebies best seller list,
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My Easter Egg - a free book
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Happy Easter!
A NEW BOOK IN THE MAKING
started writing a new book today - set in the 17th century - but the story will be set in England, the last years of the reign of Charles Ist
will keep you posted
Michael Stolle
will keep you posted
Michael Stolle
Trumpery & Brexit
Thousands of pages have been filled with comments about the impending Brexit. Why not add one more? You're tired of it? I understand...
But for a writer of historic novels it's a fascinating subject. What's intriguing me is - of course- drawing parallels with the past. The Brits have always defended a legacy of being an unruly lot, Julius Cesar was the first to get a feel of this. He didn't like it and returned to the warmer shores of Italy.
Henry VIII split with Rome and the reactions have been the same as we get to hear them today. He was threatened with excommunication (we call it nowadays 'loss of access to the single market' ) - but a powerful combination of lust (yes, young and beautiful Anne was waiting in the shadows) and greed (getting hold of the church's well filled coffers was a dream come true...) made it happen.
But in my humble opinion, there was a big difference between now and then. Whereas King Henry most probably didn't really understand the implications of his decisions his capable ministers - just to name Thomas Cromwell - certainly did, they had a master plan. Most certainly fed by their own greed and convictions - not really for the well being of Henry's loyal subjects.
Where's the master plan now? Looking at Britain today we seem to travel back to medieval times - where powerful dukes were battling with the Crown and chaos reigned. Did those dukes care for the peasants or burgers of their cities - they did not!
Today those new dukes are the Duke of High Street, the Prince of the Internet, the Duke of Tabloids, the Duke of Finances, the Duke and the Prince of Public Manipulation - just to name a few. They lust for money, titles and influence. Do they truly care for the normal citizen?....
Well, better answer this question yourself.
Let's see if a new Thomas Cromwell will be born and will have the guts to create something good out of this chaos.
Haven't seen him/ her yet though....therefore better fasten seat belts as the years to come might prove to become a bit bumpy.
Why do parallels with the present situation in America suddenly come to my mind? Must be the effect of the deformed brain of a Historian...
But for a writer of historic novels it's a fascinating subject. What's intriguing me is - of course- drawing parallels with the past. The Brits have always defended a legacy of being an unruly lot, Julius Cesar was the first to get a feel of this. He didn't like it and returned to the warmer shores of Italy.
Henry VIII split with Rome and the reactions have been the same as we get to hear them today. He was threatened with excommunication (we call it nowadays 'loss of access to the single market' ) - but a powerful combination of lust (yes, young and beautiful Anne was waiting in the shadows) and greed (getting hold of the church's well filled coffers was a dream come true...) made it happen.
But in my humble opinion, there was a big difference between now and then. Whereas King Henry most probably didn't really understand the implications of his decisions his capable ministers - just to name Thomas Cromwell - certainly did, they had a master plan. Most certainly fed by their own greed and convictions - not really for the well being of Henry's loyal subjects.
Where's the master plan now? Looking at Britain today we seem to travel back to medieval times - where powerful dukes were battling with the Crown and chaos reigned. Did those dukes care for the peasants or burgers of their cities - they did not!
Today those new dukes are the Duke of High Street, the Prince of the Internet, the Duke of Tabloids, the Duke of Finances, the Duke and the Prince of Public Manipulation - just to name a few. They lust for money, titles and influence. Do they truly care for the normal citizen?....
Well, better answer this question yourself.
Let's see if a new Thomas Cromwell will be born and will have the guts to create something good out of this chaos.
Haven't seen him/ her yet though....therefore better fasten seat belts as the years to come might prove to become a bit bumpy.
Why do parallels with the present situation in America suddenly come to my mind? Must be the effect of the deformed brain of a Historian...
history in the UK ... happening now
Sometimes reality can match even the most copious forms of fiction.
For anybody vividly interested in the history of England, the present protagonists of Brexit England are defying the prowess of imagination.
I find all I love in good historical fiction: Machiavellian deceit, revenge, action, arrogance of the ruling class and utter ignorance for the welfare of the country an unhinged elite is busiy plundering and sharing.
The proud royal house of England frozen by the shackels of an ageing constitution, demeaned to serving as junk food for tabloids and fashion journals.
The setting for an approaching drama is unfolding right under our eyes, waiting to be wittnessed and recorded by future historians , to be analysed and discussed for centuries to come.
interesting times indeed!
For anybody vividly interested in the history of England, the present protagonists of Brexit England are defying the prowess of imagination.
I find all I love in good historical fiction: Machiavellian deceit, revenge, action, arrogance of the ruling class and utter ignorance for the welfare of the country an unhinged elite is busiy plundering and sharing.
The proud royal house of England frozen by the shackels of an ageing constitution, demeaned to serving as junk food for tabloids and fashion journals.
The setting for an approaching drama is unfolding right under our eyes, waiting to be wittnessed and recorded by future historians , to be analysed and discussed for centuries to come.
interesting times indeed!
