I am on tour with The Coffee Pot Book Club, and today's I have the utmost pleasure introducing you to historical fiction author, Michael Stolle.
Armand de Saint Paul, the younger son of a great and rich noble house, is leading a carefree life in Paris, dedicating his time to such pleasures as gambling, hunting and amorous pur
suits.
Unexpectedly, Armand has to defend the honour of his house in a duel that transpires to be a deadly trap, set up by a mighty foe of the house of Saint Paul.
Will Armand be able to escape the deadly net of intrigue that soon threatens to destroy him?
How can a young man deal with love, when it’s no longer a game, but a dream beyond reach?
The leading question is: What is going on behind the façade that is Castle Kaysersberg,
where nothing is as it seems to be … until the day when the dark shadows come alive?
Mathieu was not a very religious man, but if this was not a time for prayers, then when? His mother swore that by praying to the right saint, heaven would help. She never picked a major saint, those must be far too busy to listen to her, she preferred to pray to minor, almost forgotten saints – and there were plenty of those to choose from.
While Mathieu was sifting in his mind through a list of saints to come up with, the most suitable saviour who would offer help in such a hopeless situation, his ears picked up the barely audible noise of some kind of trouble, a commotion outside.
At first, it was not even a tangible sound, he just noticed a change of pattern of the subdued noise of moving hooves, tinkling of chains and snickering of skittish horses stabled close-by.
But the rhythm of snickering changed, it grew more nervous, louder. The first hooves started kicking against the flagstones and the wooden walls of the boxes, the clicking of metal chains became incessant, no longer soothing, metamorphosing into a haunting melody of approaching fear and panic.
At first Mathieu was paralyzed but quickly it dawned upon him that he needed to act.
‘Monsieur Armand, wake up!’ he cried and shook his master who was painfully slow to react.
‘My dear Lord, what’s going on? It’s still dark as hell,’ Armand uttered, still half-asleep.
‘I don’t know, but something is going on! We must be prepared, Monsieur.’
Armand rubbed his eyes, but of course, he couldn’t see anything. Their prison cell was in complete darkness. He could hear Mathieu breathing hard close to him, but quickly he realized that the ever-engulfing spell of silence outside their prison cell had been broken.
The noise was reaching a crescendo, a frightening cacophony of terrifying sounds: the fearful whinnying of horses, the rough, fear-stricken shouting of men outside, the loud metallic banging of horseshoes clacking against wooden boxes and on stone.
Next, Armand could smell the danger: the alarming, acrid, horrifying scent of smoke. Subtle, at first, but stronger by the minute.
‘A fire must have broken out in the castle, Mathieu,’ Armand exclaimed, sweating with fear. ‘That’s why the horses are going lunatic. It’s a nightmare.’
‘This will be our end!’ Mathieu cried. ‘These bastards will forget us and let us roast to death.’
‘Elisabeth won’t forget us, Mathieu, stay calm!’ Armand replied, putting on his bravest face. He knew of course that next to the plague, fire was the one calamity everyone feared.
Mathieu didn’t reply, but Armand heard him muttering prayers.
Armand stood up, not knowing what do and how to move in this darkness. The smell of the smoke intensified, a smell that no longer resembled the comforting smoke of a fireplace. It was clinging to his nostrils, mingling with scents of charcoaled wood and burning fat.
‘Dear Lord, help us, I can smell the odour of charred bones. I know this smell,’ Mathieu exclaimed.
Armand could no longer pretend to be confident and relaxed.
‘Stop praying, Mathieu, let’s do something, let’s shout. Otherwise they’ll simply forget us. They’re so busy getting the horses out of here that they won’t waste a thought upon us.’
‘You’re right, Monsieur. Let’s shout.’
But the very moment they breathed deeply to start yelling from the top of their lungs, the door of their prison cell was flung open. A young man they had never seen before stood in the entrance, holding a burning torch in his right hand.
‘Follow me,’ he shouted, ‘we must leave, fast. Lady Elisabeth sent us.’ He spoke in the Germanic dialect, but Armand didn’t need any translation, his gesturing was clear enough.
A second men appeared and flung two coats and thick woollen caps at them. ‘Put those on and drag the caps deep over your face. The castle is in turmoil and chances are great that nobody will pay attention, but we can’t take any risks, this is your one and only chance to flee.’ Mathieu translated quickly and they put on the brown coats made from coarse, warm wool.
‘Thank you,’ Armand said. ‘Let’s pray for a miracle to get out of here unscathed.’
But there was no time for prayers or lengthy explanation. The two men raced ahead and guided them through a narrow passage. Armand had been afraid that they must traverse the stables, by now hot like a furnace and fully ablaze, but only a few steps further their guides turned and opened a low gate he had never noticed before.
Armand bent deeply to squeeze himself through the narrow opening and was surprised to find himself stepping into a section of the castle totally unknown to him. It was a cobbled backyard that lay abandoned, strangely quiet and peaceful.
The moonlight and the glow of the fire devouring the stables behind them cast an eerie light on the wet cobblestones, making them glow like ember. Towering high above them, Armand could discern the walls of the castle. Mean clouds of smoke billowed into the night, with tatters of black smoke flying to the sky like frenzied demons.
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Michael Stolle
Born in 1957, living and educated in Europe, Michael has always been intrigued by the historical setting and the fact that what makes us human was as true in the 17th century as it is now.
He has been reading and writing about history for longer than he cares to recall...
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This book really does sound fabulous!
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