Incoherent images float in the peak of the mirrored pyramid which encloses her. She feels her consciousness dissolving into the fog ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The morning was bright, hot for the time of year, a lovely day. But still Serena was despondent, could not join in the feeling – not of happiness, more of relief – that enveloped the town. Yesterday’s battle had been brief, designed to salvage a little honour rather than to provide any real opposition to the invaders. Afterwards the city fathers had been quick to accept the terms offered by the Bastard Duke. But, small though the bloodshed may have been, some men had been sacrificed. Among the dead was her Markko, her betrothed. Desolate, unable to settle, dressed only in a shift and plain kirtle, she idly roamed the narrow, twisting streets her mind filled with visions of her lost love and concerns for the future. Many men would welcome the chance to bed her, marry her, breed from her, but how was she to find another who would love. Behind him I saw the cudgel bearing man of the previous day.Giovanni laid the tray on the table.“His Excellency Don Giuseppe invites you to join him for breakfast after you have completed your ablutions. Guido here,” he indicated the cudgel man, “will wait outside, and you can bang on the door when you are ready to leave for breakfast.”He bowed and left, as did Guido, and I heard the key turn in the lock.I threw the contents of the chamber pot out of the window, and then stripped to the waist and carried out a thorough, and well-needed, wash. When dry and dressed I banged on the door.Guido opened it, and then swiftly stepped back, the pistol in his hand aimed at my gut.“Down stairs, please Milord. I shall be right behind you, and will fire if you try to make a bolt for it.”Back on the ground floor he indicated I go down a corridor to my left.We stopped by a door and he motioned for me to enter. Inside the room Giuseppe was seated at a small table, the appetising aroma of coffee and.
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