Chapters (76)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Also by Karen Brooks
- Title Page
- Dedication
- EXPLANATORY NOTE
- PART ONE
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- PART TWO
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- PART THREE
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- PART FOUR
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Epilogue: Autumn 1706
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- GLOSSARY
- LIST OF CHARACTERS
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
If she had any sense, she’d tell her friends to gather their things and run. Leave Pittenweem and never look back. Only, they couldn’t. Not while Janet roamed the countryside. Sorcha was afraid not for what might be done to her — Sorcha knew her too well — but what might be done to those she cared about. She also couldn’t leave now she’d heard from Aidan.
Was it a cruel irony or a blessing that just as she thought things couldn’t get any worse, a bundle of letters arrived from Bavaria?
Brought by one of the ships that risked sailing the rivers that wove their way through the lands where war was being waged, they’d been written some time ago.
Just as she’d avoided relaying any bad news to Aidan, so too he had sought to protect her. His letters were full of stories about the countryside the battalions marched through, the witticisms and strange habits of the Duke of Marlborough, also known as General John Churchill, and the other commanders, Cutts and Orkney. He wrote about Bavaria, the wide flowing rivers, the peaked mountains and green grasses. How gun smoke would sit in the valleys for hours after a ceasefire until the northern winds swept down and blew it away. There were fat cows and sweet-faced sheep everywhere, so he never hungered. Rain fell often and the men had to wade through mud, the supply wagons and camp followers becoming drenched or bogged or both. Bread grew mouldy, feet too. But these were the only misfortunes he mentioned. If Sorcha didn’t know better, she’d be persuaded he was one of the gentry embarking on a Grand Tour rather than marching to war. It was from the ship’s captain, Reginald Foggerty, that Sorcha learned many bloody battles had been fought, with great loss of life. The French had been defeated and the allies were victorious, but still the enemy would not surrender.
When Foggerty had left the army to sail home, it was based in a place called Ilbesheim, near Landau where a treaty between Austria and Bavaria had been signed, allowing the Hapsburgs access to Bavarian goods and revenue, effectively marking the end of French dominance in the region. When Captain Foggerty last saw Aidan and agreed to take his letters, he seemed well, apart from a mild fever. The news wasn’t much, but Sorcha drank in every word and tried not to press the tired captain more than necessary.
In every letter, Aidan wrote how he imagined her down by the harbour, close to the sea and, as he followed rivers towards battle and victory, or better still, peace, he knew that water connected them even though they were so far apart.
Gazing out over the ocean, Sorcha tried to imagine Aidan right in that very moment. In her mind she built a bridge that spanned the great distance between them.