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After viewing the newly-cast bronze cannon that were hidden in a chamber off of the caverns under the great villa, il Professore and his guest went to the coffee house to continue their conversation.

Abu bin Malachi, special envoy of the Pasha of Tripoli and general agent at large of the Great Sultan in Istanbul, gratefully accepted a cup of well-sweetened coffee from his host and old friend, Don Aldo Stern, member of the Council of Magistrates at Rocca Sorrentina in the Kingdom of Naples and occasional diplomatic representative of the House of Savoy.

He sipped from his steaming cup and commented, The beverage, it is excellent, my friend. Your people of this beautiful place, they understand truly the art of coffee.

Don Aldo bowed his head respectfully. Your words are kind, and I will share them with the mistress of the coffee house, who has retired for the night so that you and I may speak with directness, as we have always done.

The gray-bearded Ottoman gentleman smiled. That we have. You and I...fortunate are we among those who do serve in the world of diplomacy. There are few in my trade whom I may call friend...and it is not a term I use lightly or without true cause. As you well know, I full believe that certain words are as important as actions, imbued with great importance, and are to be treated with respect...as one treats anything of sacred value and meaning.

Don Aldo nodded. After a pause, he asked quietly, What do you think of the guns? Will those and others like them serve your purpose?

Indeed, bin Malachi answered. They are things of terrible beauty, a testament to the skill of the foundry-master who cast them. They will fulfill their role nobly, both as gift and ultimately, in their essential purpose as tools of defense. It has been a long time since I looked upon pieces so well made.

Il Professore sighed. It is much to my regret that so far I was only able to secure three of the six that were requested. However, they did appear much sooner than I expected...I suspect the gentleman who provided them to me took them from another order that had already been assembled for a different client, as a demonstration of good faith to me. While it is not the full number that was required, as you happened to be nearby, I thought you would care to see them. I am gratified that you received my message and were able to divert the course of your travels...and not simply so that I might show you the guns, but also that I could have an opportunity to visit with a good friend, even if only briefly.

I am very pleased you did so, replied the gentleman from Tripoli. In fact, if you feel comfortable with me doing so, before the sun even again rises, I can take the three guns onto my ship and go forward to commence the negotiations for the release of the lady.

Ah, I would most certainly be comfortable with such an arrangement. Our good King Ferdianads customs officers have returned to the mainland, and will be no hindrance. If you wish...I could provide some additional goods as tokens of esteem, and as assurance that the other artillery pieces will be forthcoming.

No, no, my friend. I would ask that you not think of such as being necessary. And besides, I may even be able to make the argument that these three guns are so finely crafted as to be worth the equivalent of six pieces of more standard quality, eh?

Abu bin Malachi was grinning like a Berber merchant who was about to make a very favorable transaction. Il Professore could not help smiling in return. His old friend took such obvious joy and delight in the challenge of negotiating, that it was as if diplomacy was a favorite sport rather than a profession for him.

By the way, continued bin Malachi, how has the blacksmith fared?

It is gracious of you to inquire," replied Don Aldo. "He is doing well, and in fact came here to the island to serve as our ironsmith and sword cutler. He seems to feel some sense of duty to me, in return for the small role I played in securing his ransom from captivity.

Hah! And well he should. Now THAT was a challenge, to obtain the release of a man with such useful skills and knowledge! By comparison, getting a lady, even a well-born one, returned from enslavement is a small matter. Allah has seen fit to fill the world with a great many women, but really good blacksmiths? Not so common they are, you know.

Abu bin Malachi sipped his coffee and paused, then looked up with a thoughtful expression. In all sincerity, my friend, I am pleased to know that the man prospers. To be held as a slave is no easy path, and the marks it may leave upon a mans mind and spirit can be difficult to overcome. I wish unto Miguel the blacksmith a long and joyful existence, and if he feels he owes that to you, I can think of many worse men to whom one might be indebted. Speaking of those who have prospered in your service, will I have the chance to see that good fellow, Achille?

No my friend, he is away, carrying messages to a certain Contessa who we have come to understand is in the camps of the Sinti, in the mountains to the north.

The Sinti?

That is the term we use in my homeland of the Piedmont. They are a branch of the Romani.

Ah yes, the wandering people -- we have some of their communities in the parts of the Balkans that the Empire still controls. Some very good coppersmiths, there are among them. Is this Contessa of Romani descent?

No...not that I am aware of...she is, in fact, the daughter of the Venetian Conte who helped me to procure those artillery pieces. She is hiding among the nomads in order to avoid falling into the hands of...shall we say, unpleasant people in Venezia.

Abu bin Malachi sighed and set down his coffee cup. The world would be a much nicer place if there not quite so many unpleasant people wandering about. But it sounds as if this Venetian gentleman is someone who it would be good to know...I should like to meet him sometime.

~~~

Bordeaux 30. November 1773

Madame,

I hereby inform you that I, your housband Jules-Phillipe, will be arriving shortly. Take care of all necesarry preparations for my arrival.

As I have heard, you know about that silly fever......let it be said, I have recovered ! Even if this quacks in Cayenne wanted to stop me from returning home.

I do hope Madame, you access to the servants a bit more strict, than in the past. Impropriety can and I will not tolerate

Kind regards

Jules Philippe

Dowager Princesse d'Angoumois Versailles, December 6, 1773

Dearest Madame,

I could not wait to write you Mama after a day of ever so eventful happenings. There is so much to share I feel as though I'm bursting with news! First I must convey the most positive of the happenings, at the salon of the Comte d'Artois, which I may say was frightfully empty of courtiers, the most stern Madame Royale spoke so very highly of me. At first I thought that she may be false in her praise, as you well know she is known to bring ladies up to shoot them down once more. But Mama she was complete in her praise, calling me pious and even speaking so very highly of your future daughter in law the Mlle de Bidache. I could have burst with pride this day, for praise from Madame Royale is as sparse as flowers in winter. Alas, not having Henri attend court is yet unsettling, especially with his wedding drawing so near, I am often questioned as to where he has gotten himself off to. Were you to do your daughter a favor for thisChristmasseason, it would be to convince your dearest son, my brother, to not shirk his duties in makingappearanceat events.

Now for the questionable and rather disparaging events of the days, and may I first preface this selection with a warning that it is pure scandal in each word and enough to turn thestomachin it's wickedness. I came upon my dear cousin in the market and had the most delightful of conversations only to be broken apart by the oddest of invitations. As you know theMonsieurTartuffe has been, oddly enough, welcomed at court and has taken up an apartment. As you might have heard there is all manner of scandal surrounding the man but upon encouragement that there might be music at such a salon I dared attend. Oh Mama this is where it gets most delicate, first the arrangement was quite... odd. Idisdainto call him so, but my 'Uncle' the Comte de Chiverny was in presence, odd in itself as he is quite open of his dislike of all the non nobles at court. Then when the discussions, or lashings of viper tongues, had begun Madame du Barry herself madeappearance! Now mother I know my cousin the Duchesse approves of her but Lord in heaven I can not bring myself to do more than smile and nod at the preening crow! You may think me horribly un-christian for this but Mama she is most horrible and without any piety. I don't think the lady capable of passing a reflection without stopping to admire and praise herself, and I can say short of the Royal wedding I've never seen her at mass.

See now I've diverged from my most scandalous story with the great du barry as if you weren't keenly aware of her. Do forgive me, Mama, my mind is quite easily diverged of late. Now then to the heart of the event... There was of course the usual back and forth between the Tartuffe man and the Comte de Chiverny, well less back and forth and more the Comte disparaging the man's very breath. Then the Comte turns his viper tongue on the young Mlle de Liseaux. Now Mama I know what you'll say, butdespiteher birth she really is the most bright young girl. I can not possibly believe all the wicked things said about everyone at court, for to do so is to believe court is not in fact filled with nobles and courtiers but whore's andcharlatans But to speak of such vile rumors with the young mlle sitting right there, it was so very wicked. Mama you'll council me to have kept my temper but I'm afraid I could not sit idle while he spoke of such things. Not only because of the shame and harm it would cause a young woman, but that I was shamed and harmed just by hearing such vile things. I know, I was terribly wrong to speak so to the Comte, and I assure you I've seen diligently to my prayers and begged God for forgiveness for speaking so to the Comte. Mama, I willendeavorto show him the regard due his station, but I can not abide the man for much time if he is to continue his behavior. If he were a man of Royal birth it would be understood, they are above us and are to push us to better ourselves, but he himself is most often a font of gossip for his wicked deeds and prevails upon those at court to witness how grand he think himself. My dearest Mama I fear his association, even by marriage to our house is distressing. Please do think on this and engage me in conference as to how best I manage any ills that might show upon our house.

With that scandal at end, as I left in haste to spare myself hearing anything more, I retreated from Versailles to the duchy for a meeting with my favorite seamstress. Mother I must admit I have done something wicked... horribly wicked. While in the duchy I made theacquaintanceof the most wonderful young gentleman. Let me preface this next statement with the warning that I was at all times wellchaperonedand did not do anything unseemly... But I attended his parlor for some discussion for some hour or so. It has reminded me of two things; One that I am dreadfully wicked and must always strive to better myself and devote myself to God and my duties, lest I be taken off with my fancies. Two that I was born into position and duty and it is very doubtful I will ever find love in marriage as You and Papa, or Henri have. Oh mama he was so wonderfully delightful, and I was so free to speak without worry that he would sneak my words to the gossips for a smile and position. Part of me thinks I could be most happy with a husband such as that, who travels and adventures... Don't fret mother You know better than to think I would let myself have such adalliance. I must always tryto remind myself that my duty is not found in romance and the things of writers... though I wish it could be at times. Why must I be such a silly wicked girl? Should I attend to church and pray to be forgiven and broken from these desires? I pray to God to be forgiven for my wickedness in even thinking for a moment I wanted to walk from my duty to sail off with some rogue.

I thank you dearest mother for your last letter, it brought me such comfort and I have as always taken your words to heart. I will continue without hesitation to better myself and keep far from the scandals that taint others at court... though I know not how to avoid them all. True friends are lacking at court but I hold in my heart that I will find others interested in true betterment of self and service to the crown, court and God. I pray this letter finds you in good spirits and packing for the return to Versailles for the Wedding. I am most eager to hear from you that you will be present as I long for even an afternoon of your company.

With all my love and ever your faithful daughter,

Marie-Jocelyn de Saint Cyr

It was late afternoon and the Conte was catching up with hiscorrespondence when noisescomingfrom the harbour attracted hisattention.

Going out on the terrace, he gazed down and observed with amusement how smoothly the Professore's Men distract the custom officials from Naples, while the sailors calmly unload the cannon under their very noses.

It had pleased him to help the Professore in this matter, although he was curious as to why the Professore should want three cannon.

He liked the Professore. They had developed a warm rapport during the weeks he had been staying at the Villa on Rocca Sorentina. They were sailing different ships, but they were looking for the same Port.

It had also given him an opportunity to delay the delivery of the shipment to the Empress, thus , perhaps, in some small way delaying her intended war against the Turks.

Back in 1757, when his father had been appointed Ambassador toConstantinople he had taken his brother, Ferigo, and himself with him. Mostlikelythis was to make sure neither of them got involved with the 7 years war.

In total they had spent five years in Constantinople, and he had fallen in love with the city.

The Conte walked down to the Harbour, as he did every evening, and as he gazed at the the sun setting on the sea, he could still remember that special light as the sun set over theBosporus.

Ferigo was now Ambassador to StPetersburg, so they could not be seen supporting the Turks, for his sake.

The Conte stroked his friend, the harbour cat, as dusk settled over the island, and lost himself in memories and dreams of another time.....asveltesilhouette, a smile, laughter inthe dark....and those black eyes.

V

It had been a week since Lady Stewart and her father, the Ambassador departed the island. They must be near Versailles now, I thought, hopping that Lady Stewart didnt forget about my letter to give to my half-brother, who would also be there. The day was bright; the sun in all its glory was at full height, bathing the villa and gardens with light. It was a beautiful day, very beautiful indeed, the sea around Rocca Sorrentina was a brilliant blue, the flowers and grass around the island, the trees still at their best despite winter had begun to creep in. I leaned out my windows apartment, taking a deep breath of the fresh breeze, my eyes watching with interest at the activities of the island. At this time, normally a cool breeze blew, but this warm one, was a delight, very welcomed. With the Stewarts gone, I am free to be myself, no one to spy on me at my familys instructions. Open all the windows I commanded to my valet, the main room, the bedroom, we need more air about. I watched as this little framed man went about, working his way around my furniture, pulling curtains aside, letting more light and air flood in.

I was in a good mood, I met with some business ventures in the past weeks, and they offered a possibility, to increase my fortune, or rather to make an Independent fortune of my own, non-associated with my fathers. Sir Roger Samuels, was the mans name, he was a merchant, a very wealth one too. His trades consisted of several routes to India, and to Arabia. This proper man beamed of Britishness, but also the excitement of exploration, and the reaping of wealth available in these foreign lands. His associate, Lord Harvey, had some investments in some port city called Goa, a city originally owned by the Portuguese, before passing into British hands. Lord Harvey and I had met several times in England, I was surprised he was part of a trade, after all, he was a Lord. I do not take part in the actual trading, and that sort my boy said the aged Harvey I simply finance it, in turn it has produced some profit. I was intrigued how does it work, I inquired? Sir Roger laughed, and Lord Harvey chuckled, responding you offer money at a percent, and if the trade works, you get your profit, and if it fails, you loose it. I thought for a few moments, I had toyed with the idea back home, by father snuffed out the idea. He considered it middle class, and would rather depend on our land, and his positions for income. After hours of talking, I met these gentlemen again, and again, over the last two weeks, nearly every three days. Now was the time to act, I had inquired all I could, and now is the chance to take.

The day was bright still, barely half past two when I found myself sitting in the tavern. A little rustic, but still handsome structure, remnants of some ancient building I suspect. There was company all around; wine was flowing, voices rising. In a quiet corner, I hid myself, content to simple light wine. The gentlemen appear, Lord Harvey and Sir Roger, with them a page with some inkwells and documents. Some passed, explaining, reading, I scanned documents after documents to be sure I am not about to take part into some trap. All was well, and I finished reading, my investment would be in a trading company associated with the British East India Company. I signed my name at the bottom of the contract, carefully writing, Richard James Callaghan, Baron Rushcliffe.

Another drink followed and some idle friendly conversation with the men, before the decided they needed to meet with some Italians and Moor merchants. I never realized the island was at such a crossroad. Its port offered safety from pirated who attached the main routes, ships passed from the Italian mainland, from France, from Spain, Arabia and all. Occasionally a British would pass through, on its way to the east. The island was a hidden port in my perspective, active but quiet, the ideal place to meet and do business with out the eyes of higher courts, and kings to looking down to claim in. I looked as the men parted, my curiosity of the island grew, I didnt actually spend much time outside the Villa since my arrival, indeed, I only stayed in the villa until this point. So far, I enjoyed the small pageantry associated with villa life, meals with the governor; I mixing with intellectuals like the professor, and a few nobles who either lived or vacationed on the island. Last night itself was a wonderful ball. It was provincial, but more entertaining than any court ball I have been too. I spent all my time on my feet, in company of various ladies of beauty and taste, dancing away to the musicians, followed by gambling and dining. Friends were reunited, and it was a joy to see some pleasant faces, such as the Dowager Contessa di Rezzonic, and la Contessa di Loredan. It was too my surprise that I ran into my beloved Contessa Foscari. I tried to always be at her side, but Signore Gandt blocked my ways. I watched in envy that they danced, they whispered, and my infatuation with the lady lessoned.I suppose I was just a person of the past, our time together was a liaison and nothing more. Little by little, my enjoyment faded, Signore Gandt won again and again at the gamessurely he was cheating. The scoundrel won four times in a rowa luck even a god anointed king wouldnt have. I suspect he is indeed a cheater, but I must watch more to find out more.who was he anyways, he seems to always be around, but again I ask myself who is that fellow?. At the end of the night the Contessa and I took a walk around the garden. Stopping by the obelisk that decorates the landscape, we discussed what is the nature of our meeting.. and I was right to thinkit was a liaison.. enjoyable, but over. It did surprise me, though, one thing in particular, the Contessa never received my letters.. none of themhow interesting.

I wandered through the town, thinking about the Contessa. Her image faded in my head, but I still wondered why she didnt receive my letters, that was strange. I walked through streets, down paths, and around corners. The warm colors of the buildings, frescos around, antique stones here and there; the town was a fairytale. I was turning the corner when I bumped right into someone, dropping my documents, and what appears to be the persons sketchpad. I swooped down instantly, apologizing to the fellow Im sorry sir, pardon. I was not paying attention. A soft, melodic responded Im no sir, but you are pardoned. I realized as I rose, items in hand, the figure was in a dress, and as I stood up tall, I was struck. Before me was a beautiful woman, with a caramelized complexion, eyes the color of honey, and hair as dark as night. I stood there, gawking in what would be a most ungentleman like expression, the woman before me was a goddess, a Nefertiti. She could not be older than 19, nor younger than 15. Her rich dark hair, framed face, draping loose over her shoulders, a few strands blowing in the breeze. Her eyes were large, and warm, brighter than any jewels. She extended her hand, a confused look on her face, speaking with an English accent, an English mixed with some other accent Sir, my drawing pad, if you may. I quickly, straightened up, handing her the items, unable to form my words properly er pad, yes here, draw it is. Her ruby lips curved into a smile, and she walked on. I turned to see her walk, but she turned the corner and was gone.

Who was this beauty with such exotic looks?

Do you ever feel like breaking down?
Do you ever feel out of place,
Like somehow you just don't belong
And no one understands you?
Do you ever wanna run away?
Do you lock yourself in your room
With the radio on turned up so loud
That no one hears you're screaming?

No, you don't know what it's like
When nothing feels all right
You don't know what it's like
To be like me

To be hurt
To feel lost
To be left out in the dark
To be kicked when you're down
To feel like you've been pushed around
To be on the edge of breaking down
And no one's there to save you
No, you don't know what it's like
Welcome to my life

Do you wanna be somebody else?
Are you sick of feeling so left out?
Are you desperate to find something more
Before your life is over?
Are you stuck inside a world you hate?
Are you sick of everyone around?
With their big fake smiles and stupid lies
While deep inside you're bleeding

No, you don't know what it's like
When nothing feels all right
You don't know what it's like
To be like me

To be hurt
To feel lost
To be left out in the dark
To be kicked when you're down
To feel like you've been pushed around
To be on the edge of breaking down
And no one's there to save you
No you don't know what it's like
Welcome to my life

No one ever lied straight to your face
And no one ever stabbed you in the back
You might think I'm happy but I'm not gonna be okay
Everybody always gave you what you wanted
You never had to work it was always there
You don't know what it's like, what it's like

To be hurt
To feel lost
To be left out in the dark
To be kicked when you're down
To feel like you've been pushed around
To be on the edge of breaking down
And no one's there to save you
No, you don't know what it's like (What it's like)

To be hurt
To feel lost
To be left out in the dark
To be kicked when you're down
To feel like you've been pushed around
To be on the edge of breaking down
And no one's there to save you
No, you don't know what it's like
Welcome to my life
Welcome to my life
Welcome to my life

Dowager Princesse d'Angoumois Versailles, December 1, 1773

Dearest Madame,

This past week has been dreadfully soured as I fell ill shortly after I wrote you last. At first I was terrified that I had contracted pox when attending to Madame Royale, but God has seen fit to protect me from such and it was simply a fever and chills that kept me a bed for the past week. Honestly I feel blessed, with the hateful gossip spreading through court of late, it seems almost impossible for a good God fearingmademoiselleto keep her virtue in tact! Have you heard the whispers even so removed as you are inAngouleme? All theservantsare a flutter with new gossip each day, each one more convoluted than the last! Honestly I don't think one could spin a truth from the lot if pressed on pain of death. It would seem as though the courtierstrulylack for something of substance to occupy their minds as we enter the winter months.

I both dread and am overly excited for the following month of activities. With such joy as to witness my dearest brother marry one I would hope to call dearest sister soon, it is hard to think that I also dread the occasion. Oh do not mistake my words dear mother, I truly hold nothing but joy in my heart for the union, but I am troubled that such events will throw our house into focus. With how everyone gossips so, what will theyconjureup next? That I am secretly a dancer inParis? Honestly mother they have the tongues of vipers! Your council on this would be most graciously accepted as I've no idea how to avoid these scandals apart from staying from court alltogether You know the true heart of your daughter dear mother, I would not for an instant do anything that could come back upon my dear Brother's name, but that does not seem to matter when the geese start tosquawk. For now I will remain proper, reserved, and quiet, in the hopes that I will not draw any unwanted attention.

Jeanne has now poked her head into my chambers three times in the space of mycorrespondencewith you, I've a notion she wishes to subject me to more of that foul drink she passes off as medicine. So it is with a deeply sad heart that I will have to end this letter. And so I will do so with the deepest devotions of love, respect and a fond desire tohopefullysee you soon.

Ever your faithful daughter,

Marie-Jocelyn de Saint Cyr

Esteemed and most respected Professor Stern:

News reached us that the island principality of the English House of Elswit has been claimed by the Kingdom of Naples, but the villagers there continue to call their island commune by its antique (if not ancient) name of Rocca Sorrentina. My two companions, Rico Millefiori and Prospero Pastorelli, and I learned of all this when we arrived in Venezia after a long, long journey. Our homecoming was not all that we expected it to be. I shall attempt to give you a full account as soon as I can but we are facing a few, unexpected setbacks.

The others send their warmest greetings, dear Professor, as does

Your most humble servant,

Pera Fiorino

The Dauphin greeted guests as they arrive; as planned, it was a small intimate occasion, each guest carefully invited based on loyalty and interest. The Madame Victoire sat in for the Madame Royale, who usually sits by her favourite nephew during meals (but who had - of late - succumbed to a mysterious illness only known to herself and God).

Although rumors swirled around the palace about the new comtesse d'Artois having already succumbed to the illness of child-bearing (an improbable feat ... but, nonetheless founded on noises heard from their apartment on the wedding night), the dauphin showed no signs of ill-will or discomfort, and was ever the host for a dinner party that not only included the royal comte and madame, but also the crown jewel of all Europe, the dauphine, Marie-Antoinette. His cousin, His Serene Highness, the comte de la Marche rounded out la section de la famille .

Other guests included the vicomtesse de Lagrasse, otherwise known as the "last Tancarville with any inkling of social acceptance," according to the Madame Royale, who thusly defended her family of matrimony when small talk went scandalous, despite rumours of further financial scandals surrounding the family at large. Seated beside the vicomtesse, and completely enamoured by her charm, was none other than the abbe', Hyacinthe d'Albert de Luynes, who extolled the virtues of service to a Greater Good.The Madamoiselles de Bidache were present as well, flanking their hopeful queen, with beauty and grace.

Once she had put in her requisite time, the Madame Victoire stood and excused herself, forcing the servants to put together a last minute plate for her dearest nephew, the comte de Provence, who was laid up in bed with gout and and ill stomach.