Back The Inheritors
Chapters (17)
  1. Cover Page
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Chapter 1
  5. Chapter 2
  6. Chapter 3
  7. Chapter 4
  8. Chapter 5
  9. Chapter 6
  10. Chapter 7
  11. Chapter 8
  12. Chapter 9
  13. Chapter 10
  14. Chapter 11
  15. Chapter 12
  16. Acknowledgements
  17. Back Cover

The previous night, the doorman of his hotel had unearthed a lugger that had docked in Brest to deliver crustaceans and load up on barrels of alcohol while waiting for the tide to come in. Delighted to be making the trip, Jules boarded at sunrise in excellent humour. The crossing promised to be magnificent; a mirror-flat sea and a gentle wind indicated a seamless trip and a late-morning arrival.

Once they had left the harbour and their course was set for the island, he attempted to make conversation with the crew, but very quickly, upon sighting the numerous rocks punctuating their route he realised that any failure to open their mouth was due to their watchful scrutiny of the water’s surface as they navigated a path through the reefs revealed by the ebb and flow of the swell.

He had been warned that he was heading into shipwreck territory, but he took that as mere tourist puffery; a low-cost way of giving them a taste of adventure. Unfortunately, they had not been lying. It appeared he had embarked on an egg with a fragile shell just waiting to be smashed on the multitude of rocks breaching the water’s surface. So he remained silent and let himself be enthralled by the grandeur of the landscape, which was as beautiful as it was inhospitable.

The vessel plied its way along the island’s coast, its cliffs looking as welcoming as a herd of pachyderms about to charge, then it rounded the point to arrive in a harbour protected from winds and currents, where it dropped anchor. The crew lowered a rowboat into the water and standing upright, surrounded by barrels of alcohol, Jules once again made landfall.

After disembarking onto a deserted jetty, he headed off on foot to the village centre. He did not encounter a living soul, except for a few very small, curious, gaunt-looking black sheep, half-heartedly jostling their way across his path.

Church bells were announcing the end of Mass.

The doors were flung open and, all of a sudden, the square that seconds earlier had been deserted was invaded by women.

Hundreds of them.