Timothy H. Cook's Blog, page 5
June 22, 2020
Chapter Two of Center Game, Heir of Drachma, Book Two
Here is the second chapter of Center Game, Heir of Drachma, Book Two.
If you folks like it, I'll post a chapter per week for a while.
Chapter Two
Charlie Stephens was seated behind his cluttered desk. Spread out before him were scattered pieces of paper. He then took out a new piece of paper and began sketching out a timeline of the events that had involved him. Searching for some pattern, something to explain these troublesome events and insinuations, something to provide meaning in all of this.
Four years ago: Dr. Robert Gilsen and Judy Morrison, disappear mysteriously. He finds out and interviews Marilyn Gilsen. Next Carlo Vincente makes his rather otherworldly appearance in his life. After depositing the earl of Shepperton into his lap, Carlo vanishes. Others who become involved include Janie and Earl Crabtree, Chris Lewinsky, Edgar Bryant, Carol, and that danged coin!
Then he had his famous television show. And it pleased his boss enough that he signed a contract to do news and specials for the station for the next three years. And when ABC came around, and wanted to snatch him away into syndication, he surprised himself by saying no. He wondered why to this day, but now thinks he knows – must talk to the earl.
The next four years go by, during which the earl recovers. He, with Marilyn’s help, arranges for the earl to live and to have a living. All the while Marilyn, Carol and he keep the rest of the media at bay. And then the earl and Carol get married. Though he had been secretly hoping for the right opportunity to do another TV special, the opportunity never materialized – have to talk to Carol about that.
And now: Marilyn disappeared from his life, and just as Dr. Gilsen and Judy had done, without preamble, and with no means to reconnect. And this definitely hurt. Who was Marilyn, if not his best friend?
And now this latest stuff, with Janie and Lonnie – all so confusing. Got to talk with Janie first. See if she can shed any light. Then see the others.
As he stood to leave, he looked down at the paper he’d written on again, and then he folded the paper and put it in his pocket. As he made his reach for the telephone, a thought flooded his mind. That which you seek is great, but your search even greater. It was as if the words had come rushing out of the forest of his dreams. And accompanying the words was the subtle fragrance of springtime, and newly turned earth. He sat back down, immobilized for the moment. Then, as the feeling and the smell faded into the background of his memory, he reached for the phone and dialed Janie’s number. It rang three times, and Janie answered.
“Oh, hello, Janie, this is Charlie Stephens… Oh, I’m fine. And how are you doing…? Ah, I see. Well I’d like to come over and talk to you… No, it’s not anything specific. It’s just that I’m searching… for something, just trying to piece a few things together, since Marilyn’s gone missing… Well, I appreciate your concern, I really do…You would? It wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience...? Of course, if you get to feeling like I’m becoming a nuisance or anything, just have Earl show me the door… You do? Well, come to think of it, I love you too…” Charlie swallowed hard, and then said, “Okay, I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”
Charlie Stephens, ace reporter, usually unmoved, and unflappable, was suddenly shaking as he hung up the phone. Somehow, he knew that what he was walking into was big, and it was scary, and no one knew what rules applied anymore.
Charlie got out of his car, and looked around at the neighborhood, which was bright, cheerful, with springtime perfection that could be seen and felt everywhere. The newness of the leaves, and the exuberance of the flowers were playing against a chorus of birdcalls. He just stood for a moment, absorbing the welcome urges of warmth infiltrating his limbs. He then headed up the walkway to the little home on Winterstone Drive. He rang the doorbell and was greeted by Earl.
“Oh, Charlie, it’s so good of you to come. I know Janie wants to talk with you. She got that phone call from you, and it so lifted her spirits. Well, here she is, now…”
Janie walked slowly, carefully toward Charlie, and she flung her arms around him. Charlie returned her embrace cautiously, as if holding a fragile present.
“Charlie, thank you for coming,” she said, “I just wanted to take this opportunity to really tell you all about what I’ve been through these past weeks. Won’t you sit down?”
Charlie gradually released his hold on Janie, and then he helped her to sit down, before sitting down himself. He turned toward Janie and said, with his own voice a bit husky from emotion, “All right, then. Why don’t you tell me about your recent weeks? And then I’ll tell you about my own journey.”
“Okay, Charlie. Some of what I’ve got to say comes from the depths of my soul. That place in me where I don’t even want to tread. And that place where even Lonnie fears to wander.”
“Ah, yes, Lonnie. She’s really quite a special woman. And I do believe you’ve got a real friend there, if my one experience with her is any indication.”
“Let me tell you, she hopes that your one experience won’t be the last one. She was quite smitten with you as well.” Janie smiled as she said this.
“Well, the next time you see her, tell her from me that I have no intention of letting that be the last.”
“Oh, I will… Anyway, you asked, and so I’m going to tell you of the past few weeks. Just what I’ve been going through, what I’ve experienced – and also what Judy’s going through. For you see, I believe our struggles are related.”
“Oh? And how would that be?”
“Charlie,” she continued, “you remember me telling you of my dream with Maggie, Dr. Gilsen, Judy, Diego and the little girl, Alex?”
Charlie nodded.
“Well, now, it appears that was only the beginning. You see, someone’s not quite done with me yet. I’ve been having more of these very real dreams, and they’ve been getting more insistent, and even more intense.”
Charlie pulled out of his jacket pocket his little notebook and pen and began jotting down what Janie was telling him.
“A couple of weeks ago now, I dreamt that Judy was going on a trip somewhere, and she was riding in the back of some horse-drawn cart. She was in the cart with three others. There was some woman who appeared to be friends with Judy, and two others, namely Diego and Alex.”
Charlie was jotting this down, and then he asked, “Any idea where she was going?” Then he thought about what he had just asked, and he just groaned. “Well, now, if that wasn’t the stupidest question I could have asked?”
Janie just smiled, and she asked, “If I knew, and I told you, would it mean anything at all?”
Charlie simply shook his head.
“All right then, Charlie. As I was saying, Judy seemed to be going on this trip with her companions, which included Dr. Gilsen, whom I could see ahead, riding a horse with his own companions.”
“Dr. Gilsen riding a horse, huh? I never pictured him as a cowboy.”
Janie smiled at that. “Well, it was my dream, remember…”
“All right, m’lady – it was.”
“Now I could see that they were headed toward some mountains in the distance and were leaving the castle.”
The castle! Thought Charlie and wrote that among his notes. I’ll have to look that one up. For even though I can’t find Shepperton, maybe if I could get a description of the castle.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but could you tell me what this castle looked like?”
“Oh sure, Charlie. It was enormous, and it appeared to be made of gray stone. It was sort of a sprawling sort of a building, if you could even call it a building. It was up on a hill, and it extended toward the northwest. And there was a moat around it. I don’t really know what the rest of it looked like, but from where I was, there was some sort of a very tall structure, with these finger-like projections around the base of it. And this seemed to be built as some sort of watchtower or something…”
“Now wait just a minute,” Charlie interrupted. “How could you tell directions in your dream? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Oh, that’s easy, Charlie. You see it was morning, and from where I was, you could clearly see which way the sun was coming up.”
Charlie jotted something down in his little notebook.
“What are you writing, Charlie?” Marilyn asked. “If you’re wondering about what the castle looks like, I could draw you a picture. I’m not too good at it, but I think that you’d at least get some idea. Enough, I’d say to take back to your book search, and look it up – that’s what you want to do, isn’t it? Here, hand me your notebook, and I’ll sketch you what I saw.”
And when Marilyn was done, Charlie looked, and right there in his little notebook was a striking rendition of Shepperton Castle. It was rather extraordinary, really. There was the castle, and off in the distance was the ridge of mountains.
“Wow, Janie, this is really something! I didn’t know you were an artist.”
“Oh, I’m not, Charlie, but you see that scene is burned in my memory, and I don’t know how or why.
“Anyway, Charlie, back to my story. What I then saw was that this little group of people set off down this road,” she pointed out the road in her little drawing, “but then I saw another who followed the group, though at a distance. That was all I saw that first night. But the next night I dreamt again, and saw this same group was now in a hut in the mountains, along with some others, and it was night. Dr. Gilsen and Judy were asleep in one corner of the hut, and in the other corner I saw the man who had been following the group, sitting down, and talking to the little girl, Alex, and he was telling her something about a man named Antoine LeGace. And I could tell by what he said that this was one really evil person. And the guy telling this used to work for this LeGace person. But Alex showed not the least hint of fear of the man.
“Then I was outside the hut, and it was Maggie who took my hand and led me into the dark woods. And all I could do was just follow, and hold her hand, because I couldn’t see anything. But then Maggie turned, and we were in the interior of some building, which was dimly lit, and it really smelled awful. It was nauseating, a very sick smell, but then my attention was directed towards two persons inside. There was a tall, thin man, and another young girl. The girl was crying. And from what I could tell, she had been torn away from her mother, and brought to this place by this Mr. LeGace. And the tall man, too, was a prisoner. He was giving her some comfort, and I could tell that this was one gentle but powerful man.
“It was then that Maggie took me out of that smelly underground place. And she stopped, and took both my hands and she said, “She is called Lisa, and he is Melchior, and both need your help.” But she never said what kind of help.”
“Okay, let me get this written down,” said Charlie. “In your dreams, you’ve seen Dr. Gilsen, Judy, Judy’s companions, which include this girl, Alex, and this strange man who was following them…”
“And Diego. He was among them, too,” Janie added. “And another woman, whose name was Diane.”
“All right I got it.” Said Charlie, scribbling in his notebook. “And in this last part of your dream, you meet up with two new persons named Lisa and Mel…”
“Melchior, like one of the Christmas wise men.”
“Yes. And Maggie, who told you that this Lisa and Melchior need your help. Is that right?”
“And did you get any indication that Judy also needed your help?”
“Not then, but I’m getting to that, Charlie.” Janie smiled, and then reached out her hand, and took Charlie’s. “And, Mr. TV reporter, here’s where you come in.”
As she said this Charlie turned pale. “Me?”
“Yes, Charlie, my dear – you. Wait ‘til you hear about my latest dream.”
“Well, m’lady, then you better lay it on me,” Charlie managed to say with just a hint of a far-off smile.
“In my latest dream, if I may even call it that - for there was much about it that felt too real and too frightening. It was my last chemo treatment with Lonnie, and she had given me some medicine in my IV for nausea. Almost immediately I found I was back in Shepperton, walking along behind the cart in which Judy, Diane and Alex were now riding. But this time we were going through a forest, and I could make out that the men in our little group were now prisoners. They were all tied together, and there were also riders, who kept the men walking along the path. And then I looked, and I saw that Diego was about to fall down from exhaustion. And from the cart, suddenly Alex sprang up and she ran back to Diego. She offered to help him walk, taking his weight upon her. But this commotion was noticed and the leader of the bigger group that had taken them all captive, and he turned and rode back to where Alex and Diego were. But little Alex turned toward the leader, and she smiled. And that smile carried with it the subtle blue light from the depths of eternity. And this leader upon his horse became putty in her hands.
And so the men untied Diego, and he was helped into the cart with Judy and the other woman. And then as they began their cumbersome journey again, Alex turned to me and said very distinctly, “Janie, help Judy. I shall help Diego.””
“This happened in your dream, huh?” asked Charlie. “How did you feel? I mean what were you supposed to do? How were you supposed to get help across the barriers of time and distance?”
“Well, Charlie, here’s where things really get weird,” Janie went on. “You see, as I watched the group go off along the path in the forest, I found myself alone. I was walking in some other part of the forest, where the trees were taller and older – as old as time itself it seemed to me – and off to the left I could hear the sound of running water, and I just walked along. Next, as I followed a turn in the path, there he was, as old as the forest and yet vigorous as the mountain stream, and he smiled at me, and welcomed me with his warm embrace. And he smelled of the forest.
“Now, you’re Drachma, aren’t you?” I said to him. And he acknowledged that he was, and that he was most happy to see me. And he thanked me personally for being the mother for Josh.” At this Charlie looked at her quizzically. “That’s right. And then he told me the most interesting things about his grandson, Tom. Now do you remember me telling you that Tom, from this other time and place, was the absolute spitting image of my own Josh?”
Charlie told her he thought that he’d heard that, either from Lonnie or Janie herself, but just to refresh his own mind, could she repeat what she had told him of Tom? And so, Janie filled him in on her previous encounters with Tom. And Charlie jotted more in his notebook.
“But Charlie, I had no idea that Tom was Drachma’s grandson until he told me so himself. But I’ll tell you, that was only the beginning. It seems that Tom’s grandmother was Felicia Vincente, whom you know about, but who died shortly before Dr. Gilsen and Judy got to Shepperton. But now, get this… do you know who Tom’s mother is? It’s Maggie!”
“Now wait a minute. Maggie, if we’re talking about the same person, is too young – she’s maybe nine or ten, isn’t she?”
“I asked Drachma that very thing, and you know what he told me? He said that Maggie was his own daughter, who was fifteen when she died in childbirth, giving birth to Tom. And he himself has seen her once, very briefly since she died, but that she appeared quite young - about ten years old.”
“You know,” said Charlie, with a tone of resignation, “if I hadn’t also seen her myself, I’d be willing to attribute all this dreaming to the effects of medication.”
Janie smiled, and reached out for his hand. “Now, that’s what Lonnie thought too, and that would be very reasonable, except for what I’m about to tell you, Charlie. You see, what Drachma then told me was something he had never shared with anyone. He told me that as he was riding furiously toward someplace called Killiburn with his newborn baby boy, in search of a wet nurse for him, he got the strangest vision. It was of Maggie taking his son to some healer named Yordy, where she dropped him off, and then fled. And then all time seemed to stop as Drachma was allowed to see that his grandson, who would be called Joshua, was in my care, and that the child that he was so frantically carrying would be well, and would be named Drachma, but be known as Tom, and whatever illness or miseries that he might experience would be taken up by Joshua, who was also his grandson. He could do nothing, but he did leave something with young Joshua.”
“Oh, my…” said Charlie, as he was madly scribbling in his notebook. “So, explain to me, if you can, about this healer named Yordy. That’s kind of an unusual name.”
“Dr. Yordy was a general practitioner, in rural Kentucky, who sent Josh to Lexington, where I was. And he described a young girl who couldn’t be more that 14 or 15, with red hair, a strange accent, who dropped Josh off, and fled. She was never found, nor heard from again.”
“And that name, Killiburn – that’s someplace that the earl was talking about. I’m going to have to ask him some more about it. But please, go on with your story, as it’s really getting interesting.”
“And it’s almost to the point at which you come into the picture, perhaps in some way which you’re not ready for, but you do need to hear.”
Charlie cocked his head slightly but said nothing. Sensing his trepidation, Janie paused, but then started again.
“Okay, Charlie. It seems that Drachma was able to follow Josh’s progression over time, and as it came toward the end he, for reasons I don’t pretend to understand, saw that the time was right to bring on the likes of Dr. Gilsen and Judy Morrison, and to take them back to his time. And apparently that was the right thing to do, as they have now established a unique and powerful center for medical care right there in Shepperton. And he also explained that his own time was coming to an end, and that Tom was now in position to take over for him.
“But now there were threats to the well-being of the people of Shepperton, and what they stand for. Some of which could be handled by persons there, but some that would need our intervention.”
“Our intervention? How do you mean…?”
“Well, this is where it gets really personal. You see, Charlie, I don’t have much more time here, in our world, and yet I’ve got things to do before I’m gone.”
Unbidden, a tear rolled down Charlie’s cheek.
“And you know what? It’s you that I have chosen to do the most important thing…”
“Me? Asked Charlie, barely able to get the word out.
“Yes, Charlie, when the time comes, I’ll give you something to take to Shepperton with you.” She grasped his hand again gently. “And don’t you worry, you’ll be informed of when that time is to be.”
Thoughts were spinning around in Charlie’s head. His look was of utter bewilderment. Then Earl, who had been silently watching all this from the corner of the living room, spoke to him.
“Charlie, while I don’t pretend to understand any of this, I do know that it all fits with my own experience of these dreams. You see, Drachma told me that Josh had not died in vain, and that I would understand things more fully in the hour of my own death. Now I don’t have any idea when that would be, but all this with Janie has gotten to me. And it’s got me thinking, there’s something there, in that murky world of Drachma and Shepperton. With Janie, now experiencing all of these dreams, and seeing this Tom person – I believe that I’m catching glimpses of what the truth may be.
“And also, Charlie, even though I’ve been through this with Janie, it’s her decision to trust you with this mission, if I might call it that. And yes, Janie and I have discussed this in detail. We don’t know the ramifications, or even your willingness to undertake anything like this. Be assured, though, that you’ll be notified when the time comes.”
“Charlie, I realize what I’m asking of you,” said Janie, “and I also understand if you say no. But let me tell you that Drachma has this sort of persuasive power over others.”
“So, it would seem, my lady,” Charlie replied from somewhere deep within his own soul.
“But now, let me hear from you…what you’re searching for.”
“Well now, I would say that you have succeeded in defining just what the nature of my own search is to become. For this morning, I was sitting at my desk, trying to piece together some of these untidy events, which just seem to have culminated in Marilyn’s disappearance, your own illness, and your own revelations.”
He then pulled out of his pocket the paper he’d been writing on.
“Here, look at this… this is what I was working on before I called you.”
Janie took the paper, studied it, and then handed it back.
“Well, it would seem, Mr. Ace Reporter, that you do, indeed, need to see Carol and the earl of Shepperton. For it appears that they too can provide you with some of what you need.”
“I plan to. And thank you, m’lady,” he said with a wink and a sly smile. “Until we meet again.”
Janie reached out, took his face in her hands, and drew him close, and said in a whisper, “God be with you, my lovely friend.” Then she kissed his wet cheek.
As Charlie walked out to his car, the late spring day was just as magnificent as before, but he could not sense it this time. All he felt was a deep foreboding.
“Marilyn, Marilyn,” he whispered as he got into his blue Nissan wagon. “What am I supposed to do next?” He thought about her, and about Janie, about Alonza Chavez, and about Judy Morrison, off in that other time and place, whom he had never met, and he knew there was one more place he had to visit before going to Shepperton’s home.
If you folks like it, I'll post a chapter per week for a while.
Chapter Two
Charlie Stephens was seated behind his cluttered desk. Spread out before him were scattered pieces of paper. He then took out a new piece of paper and began sketching out a timeline of the events that had involved him. Searching for some pattern, something to explain these troublesome events and insinuations, something to provide meaning in all of this.
Four years ago: Dr. Robert Gilsen and Judy Morrison, disappear mysteriously. He finds out and interviews Marilyn Gilsen. Next Carlo Vincente makes his rather otherworldly appearance in his life. After depositing the earl of Shepperton into his lap, Carlo vanishes. Others who become involved include Janie and Earl Crabtree, Chris Lewinsky, Edgar Bryant, Carol, and that danged coin!
Then he had his famous television show. And it pleased his boss enough that he signed a contract to do news and specials for the station for the next three years. And when ABC came around, and wanted to snatch him away into syndication, he surprised himself by saying no. He wondered why to this day, but now thinks he knows – must talk to the earl.
The next four years go by, during which the earl recovers. He, with Marilyn’s help, arranges for the earl to live and to have a living. All the while Marilyn, Carol and he keep the rest of the media at bay. And then the earl and Carol get married. Though he had been secretly hoping for the right opportunity to do another TV special, the opportunity never materialized – have to talk to Carol about that.
And now: Marilyn disappeared from his life, and just as Dr. Gilsen and Judy had done, without preamble, and with no means to reconnect. And this definitely hurt. Who was Marilyn, if not his best friend?
And now this latest stuff, with Janie and Lonnie – all so confusing. Got to talk with Janie first. See if she can shed any light. Then see the others.
As he stood to leave, he looked down at the paper he’d written on again, and then he folded the paper and put it in his pocket. As he made his reach for the telephone, a thought flooded his mind. That which you seek is great, but your search even greater. It was as if the words had come rushing out of the forest of his dreams. And accompanying the words was the subtle fragrance of springtime, and newly turned earth. He sat back down, immobilized for the moment. Then, as the feeling and the smell faded into the background of his memory, he reached for the phone and dialed Janie’s number. It rang three times, and Janie answered.
“Oh, hello, Janie, this is Charlie Stephens… Oh, I’m fine. And how are you doing…? Ah, I see. Well I’d like to come over and talk to you… No, it’s not anything specific. It’s just that I’m searching… for something, just trying to piece a few things together, since Marilyn’s gone missing… Well, I appreciate your concern, I really do…You would? It wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience...? Of course, if you get to feeling like I’m becoming a nuisance or anything, just have Earl show me the door… You do? Well, come to think of it, I love you too…” Charlie swallowed hard, and then said, “Okay, I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”
Charlie Stephens, ace reporter, usually unmoved, and unflappable, was suddenly shaking as he hung up the phone. Somehow, he knew that what he was walking into was big, and it was scary, and no one knew what rules applied anymore.
Charlie got out of his car, and looked around at the neighborhood, which was bright, cheerful, with springtime perfection that could be seen and felt everywhere. The newness of the leaves, and the exuberance of the flowers were playing against a chorus of birdcalls. He just stood for a moment, absorbing the welcome urges of warmth infiltrating his limbs. He then headed up the walkway to the little home on Winterstone Drive. He rang the doorbell and was greeted by Earl.
“Oh, Charlie, it’s so good of you to come. I know Janie wants to talk with you. She got that phone call from you, and it so lifted her spirits. Well, here she is, now…”
Janie walked slowly, carefully toward Charlie, and she flung her arms around him. Charlie returned her embrace cautiously, as if holding a fragile present.
“Charlie, thank you for coming,” she said, “I just wanted to take this opportunity to really tell you all about what I’ve been through these past weeks. Won’t you sit down?”
Charlie gradually released his hold on Janie, and then he helped her to sit down, before sitting down himself. He turned toward Janie and said, with his own voice a bit husky from emotion, “All right, then. Why don’t you tell me about your recent weeks? And then I’ll tell you about my own journey.”
“Okay, Charlie. Some of what I’ve got to say comes from the depths of my soul. That place in me where I don’t even want to tread. And that place where even Lonnie fears to wander.”
“Ah, yes, Lonnie. She’s really quite a special woman. And I do believe you’ve got a real friend there, if my one experience with her is any indication.”
“Let me tell you, she hopes that your one experience won’t be the last one. She was quite smitten with you as well.” Janie smiled as she said this.
“Well, the next time you see her, tell her from me that I have no intention of letting that be the last.”
“Oh, I will… Anyway, you asked, and so I’m going to tell you of the past few weeks. Just what I’ve been going through, what I’ve experienced – and also what Judy’s going through. For you see, I believe our struggles are related.”
“Oh? And how would that be?”
“Charlie,” she continued, “you remember me telling you of my dream with Maggie, Dr. Gilsen, Judy, Diego and the little girl, Alex?”
Charlie nodded.
“Well, now, it appears that was only the beginning. You see, someone’s not quite done with me yet. I’ve been having more of these very real dreams, and they’ve been getting more insistent, and even more intense.”
Charlie pulled out of his jacket pocket his little notebook and pen and began jotting down what Janie was telling him.
“A couple of weeks ago now, I dreamt that Judy was going on a trip somewhere, and she was riding in the back of some horse-drawn cart. She was in the cart with three others. There was some woman who appeared to be friends with Judy, and two others, namely Diego and Alex.”
Charlie was jotting this down, and then he asked, “Any idea where she was going?” Then he thought about what he had just asked, and he just groaned. “Well, now, if that wasn’t the stupidest question I could have asked?”
Janie just smiled, and she asked, “If I knew, and I told you, would it mean anything at all?”
Charlie simply shook his head.
“All right then, Charlie. As I was saying, Judy seemed to be going on this trip with her companions, which included Dr. Gilsen, whom I could see ahead, riding a horse with his own companions.”
“Dr. Gilsen riding a horse, huh? I never pictured him as a cowboy.”
Janie smiled at that. “Well, it was my dream, remember…”
“All right, m’lady – it was.”
“Now I could see that they were headed toward some mountains in the distance and were leaving the castle.”
The castle! Thought Charlie and wrote that among his notes. I’ll have to look that one up. For even though I can’t find Shepperton, maybe if I could get a description of the castle.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but could you tell me what this castle looked like?”
“Oh sure, Charlie. It was enormous, and it appeared to be made of gray stone. It was sort of a sprawling sort of a building, if you could even call it a building. It was up on a hill, and it extended toward the northwest. And there was a moat around it. I don’t really know what the rest of it looked like, but from where I was, there was some sort of a very tall structure, with these finger-like projections around the base of it. And this seemed to be built as some sort of watchtower or something…”
“Now wait just a minute,” Charlie interrupted. “How could you tell directions in your dream? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Oh, that’s easy, Charlie. You see it was morning, and from where I was, you could clearly see which way the sun was coming up.”
Charlie jotted something down in his little notebook.
“What are you writing, Charlie?” Marilyn asked. “If you’re wondering about what the castle looks like, I could draw you a picture. I’m not too good at it, but I think that you’d at least get some idea. Enough, I’d say to take back to your book search, and look it up – that’s what you want to do, isn’t it? Here, hand me your notebook, and I’ll sketch you what I saw.”
And when Marilyn was done, Charlie looked, and right there in his little notebook was a striking rendition of Shepperton Castle. It was rather extraordinary, really. There was the castle, and off in the distance was the ridge of mountains.
“Wow, Janie, this is really something! I didn’t know you were an artist.”
“Oh, I’m not, Charlie, but you see that scene is burned in my memory, and I don’t know how or why.
“Anyway, Charlie, back to my story. What I then saw was that this little group of people set off down this road,” she pointed out the road in her little drawing, “but then I saw another who followed the group, though at a distance. That was all I saw that first night. But the next night I dreamt again, and saw this same group was now in a hut in the mountains, along with some others, and it was night. Dr. Gilsen and Judy were asleep in one corner of the hut, and in the other corner I saw the man who had been following the group, sitting down, and talking to the little girl, Alex, and he was telling her something about a man named Antoine LeGace. And I could tell by what he said that this was one really evil person. And the guy telling this used to work for this LeGace person. But Alex showed not the least hint of fear of the man.
“Then I was outside the hut, and it was Maggie who took my hand and led me into the dark woods. And all I could do was just follow, and hold her hand, because I couldn’t see anything. But then Maggie turned, and we were in the interior of some building, which was dimly lit, and it really smelled awful. It was nauseating, a very sick smell, but then my attention was directed towards two persons inside. There was a tall, thin man, and another young girl. The girl was crying. And from what I could tell, she had been torn away from her mother, and brought to this place by this Mr. LeGace. And the tall man, too, was a prisoner. He was giving her some comfort, and I could tell that this was one gentle but powerful man.
“It was then that Maggie took me out of that smelly underground place. And she stopped, and took both my hands and she said, “She is called Lisa, and he is Melchior, and both need your help.” But she never said what kind of help.”
“Okay, let me get this written down,” said Charlie. “In your dreams, you’ve seen Dr. Gilsen, Judy, Judy’s companions, which include this girl, Alex, and this strange man who was following them…”
“And Diego. He was among them, too,” Janie added. “And another woman, whose name was Diane.”
“All right I got it.” Said Charlie, scribbling in his notebook. “And in this last part of your dream, you meet up with two new persons named Lisa and Mel…”
“Melchior, like one of the Christmas wise men.”
“Yes. And Maggie, who told you that this Lisa and Melchior need your help. Is that right?”
“And did you get any indication that Judy also needed your help?”
“Not then, but I’m getting to that, Charlie.” Janie smiled, and then reached out her hand, and took Charlie’s. “And, Mr. TV reporter, here’s where you come in.”
As she said this Charlie turned pale. “Me?”
“Yes, Charlie, my dear – you. Wait ‘til you hear about my latest dream.”
“Well, m’lady, then you better lay it on me,” Charlie managed to say with just a hint of a far-off smile.
“In my latest dream, if I may even call it that - for there was much about it that felt too real and too frightening. It was my last chemo treatment with Lonnie, and she had given me some medicine in my IV for nausea. Almost immediately I found I was back in Shepperton, walking along behind the cart in which Judy, Diane and Alex were now riding. But this time we were going through a forest, and I could make out that the men in our little group were now prisoners. They were all tied together, and there were also riders, who kept the men walking along the path. And then I looked, and I saw that Diego was about to fall down from exhaustion. And from the cart, suddenly Alex sprang up and she ran back to Diego. She offered to help him walk, taking his weight upon her. But this commotion was noticed and the leader of the bigger group that had taken them all captive, and he turned and rode back to where Alex and Diego were. But little Alex turned toward the leader, and she smiled. And that smile carried with it the subtle blue light from the depths of eternity. And this leader upon his horse became putty in her hands.
And so the men untied Diego, and he was helped into the cart with Judy and the other woman. And then as they began their cumbersome journey again, Alex turned to me and said very distinctly, “Janie, help Judy. I shall help Diego.””
“This happened in your dream, huh?” asked Charlie. “How did you feel? I mean what were you supposed to do? How were you supposed to get help across the barriers of time and distance?”
“Well, Charlie, here’s where things really get weird,” Janie went on. “You see, as I watched the group go off along the path in the forest, I found myself alone. I was walking in some other part of the forest, where the trees were taller and older – as old as time itself it seemed to me – and off to the left I could hear the sound of running water, and I just walked along. Next, as I followed a turn in the path, there he was, as old as the forest and yet vigorous as the mountain stream, and he smiled at me, and welcomed me with his warm embrace. And he smelled of the forest.
“Now, you’re Drachma, aren’t you?” I said to him. And he acknowledged that he was, and that he was most happy to see me. And he thanked me personally for being the mother for Josh.” At this Charlie looked at her quizzically. “That’s right. And then he told me the most interesting things about his grandson, Tom. Now do you remember me telling you that Tom, from this other time and place, was the absolute spitting image of my own Josh?”
Charlie told her he thought that he’d heard that, either from Lonnie or Janie herself, but just to refresh his own mind, could she repeat what she had told him of Tom? And so, Janie filled him in on her previous encounters with Tom. And Charlie jotted more in his notebook.
“But Charlie, I had no idea that Tom was Drachma’s grandson until he told me so himself. But I’ll tell you, that was only the beginning. It seems that Tom’s grandmother was Felicia Vincente, whom you know about, but who died shortly before Dr. Gilsen and Judy got to Shepperton. But now, get this… do you know who Tom’s mother is? It’s Maggie!”
“Now wait a minute. Maggie, if we’re talking about the same person, is too young – she’s maybe nine or ten, isn’t she?”
“I asked Drachma that very thing, and you know what he told me? He said that Maggie was his own daughter, who was fifteen when she died in childbirth, giving birth to Tom. And he himself has seen her once, very briefly since she died, but that she appeared quite young - about ten years old.”
“You know,” said Charlie, with a tone of resignation, “if I hadn’t also seen her myself, I’d be willing to attribute all this dreaming to the effects of medication.”
Janie smiled, and reached out for his hand. “Now, that’s what Lonnie thought too, and that would be very reasonable, except for what I’m about to tell you, Charlie. You see, what Drachma then told me was something he had never shared with anyone. He told me that as he was riding furiously toward someplace called Killiburn with his newborn baby boy, in search of a wet nurse for him, he got the strangest vision. It was of Maggie taking his son to some healer named Yordy, where she dropped him off, and then fled. And then all time seemed to stop as Drachma was allowed to see that his grandson, who would be called Joshua, was in my care, and that the child that he was so frantically carrying would be well, and would be named Drachma, but be known as Tom, and whatever illness or miseries that he might experience would be taken up by Joshua, who was also his grandson. He could do nothing, but he did leave something with young Joshua.”
“Oh, my…” said Charlie, as he was madly scribbling in his notebook. “So, explain to me, if you can, about this healer named Yordy. That’s kind of an unusual name.”
“Dr. Yordy was a general practitioner, in rural Kentucky, who sent Josh to Lexington, where I was. And he described a young girl who couldn’t be more that 14 or 15, with red hair, a strange accent, who dropped Josh off, and fled. She was never found, nor heard from again.”
“And that name, Killiburn – that’s someplace that the earl was talking about. I’m going to have to ask him some more about it. But please, go on with your story, as it’s really getting interesting.”
“And it’s almost to the point at which you come into the picture, perhaps in some way which you’re not ready for, but you do need to hear.”
Charlie cocked his head slightly but said nothing. Sensing his trepidation, Janie paused, but then started again.
“Okay, Charlie. It seems that Drachma was able to follow Josh’s progression over time, and as it came toward the end he, for reasons I don’t pretend to understand, saw that the time was right to bring on the likes of Dr. Gilsen and Judy Morrison, and to take them back to his time. And apparently that was the right thing to do, as they have now established a unique and powerful center for medical care right there in Shepperton. And he also explained that his own time was coming to an end, and that Tom was now in position to take over for him.
“But now there were threats to the well-being of the people of Shepperton, and what they stand for. Some of which could be handled by persons there, but some that would need our intervention.”
“Our intervention? How do you mean…?”
“Well, this is where it gets really personal. You see, Charlie, I don’t have much more time here, in our world, and yet I’ve got things to do before I’m gone.”
Unbidden, a tear rolled down Charlie’s cheek.
“And you know what? It’s you that I have chosen to do the most important thing…”
“Me? Asked Charlie, barely able to get the word out.
“Yes, Charlie, when the time comes, I’ll give you something to take to Shepperton with you.” She grasped his hand again gently. “And don’t you worry, you’ll be informed of when that time is to be.”
Thoughts were spinning around in Charlie’s head. His look was of utter bewilderment. Then Earl, who had been silently watching all this from the corner of the living room, spoke to him.
“Charlie, while I don’t pretend to understand any of this, I do know that it all fits with my own experience of these dreams. You see, Drachma told me that Josh had not died in vain, and that I would understand things more fully in the hour of my own death. Now I don’t have any idea when that would be, but all this with Janie has gotten to me. And it’s got me thinking, there’s something there, in that murky world of Drachma and Shepperton. With Janie, now experiencing all of these dreams, and seeing this Tom person – I believe that I’m catching glimpses of what the truth may be.
“And also, Charlie, even though I’ve been through this with Janie, it’s her decision to trust you with this mission, if I might call it that. And yes, Janie and I have discussed this in detail. We don’t know the ramifications, or even your willingness to undertake anything like this. Be assured, though, that you’ll be notified when the time comes.”
“Charlie, I realize what I’m asking of you,” said Janie, “and I also understand if you say no. But let me tell you that Drachma has this sort of persuasive power over others.”
“So, it would seem, my lady,” Charlie replied from somewhere deep within his own soul.
“But now, let me hear from you…what you’re searching for.”
“Well now, I would say that you have succeeded in defining just what the nature of my own search is to become. For this morning, I was sitting at my desk, trying to piece together some of these untidy events, which just seem to have culminated in Marilyn’s disappearance, your own illness, and your own revelations.”
He then pulled out of his pocket the paper he’d been writing on.
“Here, look at this… this is what I was working on before I called you.”
Janie took the paper, studied it, and then handed it back.
“Well, it would seem, Mr. Ace Reporter, that you do, indeed, need to see Carol and the earl of Shepperton. For it appears that they too can provide you with some of what you need.”
“I plan to. And thank you, m’lady,” he said with a wink and a sly smile. “Until we meet again.”
Janie reached out, took his face in her hands, and drew him close, and said in a whisper, “God be with you, my lovely friend.” Then she kissed his wet cheek.
As Charlie walked out to his car, the late spring day was just as magnificent as before, but he could not sense it this time. All he felt was a deep foreboding.
“Marilyn, Marilyn,” he whispered as he got into his blue Nissan wagon. “What am I supposed to do next?” He thought about her, and about Janie, about Alonza Chavez, and about Judy Morrison, off in that other time and place, whom he had never met, and he knew there was one more place he had to visit before going to Shepperton’s home.
June 15, 2020
Heir of Drachma, Book Two, Center Game - Chapter One
Hey, Folks, What I have done to entice you all, is to print a copy of my fifth book, otherwise known as Heir of Drachma, Book Two, Center Game.I tentatively plan to print more here if you're interested. This is all while a try to get an agent for my project. Anyway here it is!
Heir of DrachmaBook TwoCenter Game
Chapter One
Even to the alchemist, the underground enclosure reeked – of all the years of foul things, done in the name of captivity. It was almost too much, with the stench and nausea increasing the stress of his own captivity. He was down here, as was the lass. He couldn’t even imagine why the men brought her down here. The only light that reached them came from a torch which was close to the entrance to the underground cavern. Gently, he spoke to her.
“Lassie,” he said, “What is your name?”
The girl turned her head toward the tall man who was sitting down on the lone piece of furniture, an old wine cask.
“Me name’s Lisa,” she uttered, her voice hoarse from crying.
“Now Lisa, can ye tell me who your parents be?”
“Me Mum’s named Sylvie, an’ we’re stayin’ at the big house up by the castle.”
“And yer Papa…?”
“Don’ know me Papa.”
“Then who be the man you’re staying with at the mansion?”
“Name’s Patronis… Emile Patronis.”
That name stung him. And he had no way of conveying that information to Craycroft.
“Now I’m not goin’ to be in trouble, am I? Me Mum said I was not to tell…”
“Ah, nay, m’lass. You’re not going to get into trouble – not any more trouble than we’re both in right now. My name’s Melchior. And I’m an alchemist… do you know what an alchemist is?”
Melchior could tell that Lisa was relaxing her guard.
“Nay, I know not. What is an al… alche…?”
“An alchemist. What I do is to mix potions – ye know, if ye’re sick and such. These potions help ye heal.”
“D’ye make magic?”
“Nay, lassie, not magic”
“Too bad…”
“Well, I shall try to keep you safe, even though I have no magic.”
Over the next hour, Melchior found out that Lisa and her mother had been in the village of Armaugh, and had tried to find work. Ever since the inn burned down, and they were left destitute, they had been trying anything and everything, and then along came this Patronis fellow, with a plan. If they would pretend to be his wife and daughter, he could find work for them, and they agreed.
She could tell that he was an educated man, by the way he talked, but he pretended to be a simpleton, from the country, and the work they found was at the mansion. There were two men, a Master Guarneri, and a Master LeGace who set them up in their work, and were their employers. It all seemed to go along just fine, until those men just burst into the house, and took her away from her Mum. And then she discovered that it was Master LeGace who was in charge, and brought her over here. She just couldn’t understand what Master LeGace would want with her.
Anyway, here they were, at least for now. With the possibility of escape highly unlikely, they seemed to be at the mercy of their captors. They were on Dunnigan’s Isle – that much Melchior knew - but more than that he could not tell. This underground place had obviously been used over the years to ply the trades of trappers, hunters, and obviously tanners. There were some things from which the smells never seemed to disappear, and tanning hides was one of them.
Lisa and Melchior had been brought to the island, just as dawn was breaking, and then they were marched through the forest to this place. The house looked no more than a small, unkempt cottage. And there were but a handful of men guarding the premises. But they were taken into the back of the house, where there was a small entryway, which led down into the earth. They were each given a small, stale roll, and a bowl of porridge, and then the doorway was sealed. It seemed hours ago, but who could tell, as there was no light, beyond the torch.
Melchior could do nothing, except talk to the girl, to keep her safe, but he was not at all certain if he could even do that. This was so like the Antoine LeGace he remembered, a man evil to the core, who thought nothing of treating his subjects with utter disdain. If there were anything at all he could do, but there seemed to be nothing. The time dragged on and on.
Eventually, the door opened, and a couple of burly men came down the walkway, and brought with them a fairly large container of water, with a single metal cup. They set the vessel down in their midst. While one of the men replaced the sputtering torch, the other informed them of the rules the two of them were to obey.
“Now ye’ll be here as our prisoners as long as Master LeGace wants. And, as prisoners, ye’ll have no access to the outside, for any reason. We’ll be feedin’ ye twice a day. And any attempt at escape, shall be met with death. Is that understood?”
“Oh, aye,” answered Melchior. But he was thinking of what he could do. For the boredom alone would be a sentence as stiff as any other he could think about.
“Very well,” said their captor, as he turned to leave. The doorway shut again with a reverberating thud.
For a while afterward, Melchior and Lisa just sat, and eventually Melchior got up, and went over to the water vessel, and got a cup full of water, and took it over to Lisa, who was crying again, and said, “Here, Lisa. Take some of the water. I know that you must ache from thirst.”
She took the cup of water, and between sobs, drank it down.
And Melchior silently prayed. He prayed for the safety of Lisa, and he prayed for his own wife and child. And also for himself, that he be granted some semblance of grace to withstand what appeared to be this mind-numbing imprisonment.
Frieda led the timid waif up the way of the winding stairway, to the meeting room that was prepared. She knocked on the large, ornate door, and was let in by Aaron.
“Oh, do come this way, ladies,” he said. “Craycroft and Kerlin have been waiting for ye.”
“Oh, thank ye, Aaron,” answered Frieda, and then, turning toward the small, shy woman, she added, “Ye shall be safe with these gentlemen, but I shall stay here with ye.” Next, she very gently took the hand of the young woman and guided her into the comfortable sitting room.
“Oh, please, Sylvie, sit down here.” Said Craycroft, gently. “You shall know that Kerlin and I are not to be feared, and are committed to your own safety, as well the safety of your daughter.”
Silently, Sylvie sat down in the chair that was offered her. Her lip quivered, and she found it impossible to speak. Craycroft noticed, and took his time with the woman, whose whole world had just been turned upside down.
“Now, my good woman,” he said calmly, “I do know that you are feeling lost and alone. So let me begin by telling you of what we do know of your circumstances, and then, as you feel able, you may correct our misunderstandings.”
She nodded, still not saying a word.
“What we do know is that you and your girl, I believe you called her Lisa, have been living in the mansion, that was once owned by Councilor Reordan, and also that you were in the company of one Emile Patronis. Now we have reason to believe that it may have been a man named Antoine LeGace who was your employer. Am I right so far?”
She again nodded.
“We also know that it was a pair of strong, heavily armed men who came into the mansion, and stole away your daughter. One of whom was a man with either white or very pale hair. Further we do know that it was Antoine Legace himself in charge of the raiding party, and that Master LeGace and about eight others rowed off with your daughter. And also, they took our master alchemist, a man named Melchior, along with your daughter in the boat, which we believe was going toward Dunnigan’s Isle.
“And let me tell you, my dear woman, that we are enraged by our loss, as you are by your own. But we do believe that we have the might of men to bring them both back to safety. And we feel that you might be able to help us.” Craycroft noticed that she immediately tensed up at this. “Nay, Sylvie – not with your actions – but rather with your knowledge. You see, we do need some information which you alone have.”
“Information?” She finally said. “What information would that be?”
“What we need is to find out from you is just how you came to be in the company of Master Patronis, and how it was that he knew of Master LeGace.”
“Well, m’lord, if ye must know, I worked at the inn in Armaugh, when it burned down.”
“Aye, Sylvie, I did hear of that,” Kerlin noted. “That was truly a disaster, and was not one of the employed killed in that fire?”
“Oh, aye, m’lord. It was one o’ the kitchen maids, named Lydia, and such a wonderful woman, too. She was the one to come early, and to make the dough for the day’s bread.”
“And such a loss it was,” continued Kerlin, “but tell me Sylvie, how it was that you came to be working at the inn. For I hear tell that you were widowed…”
“Oh, m’lord, d’ye truly want to hear of me life ere that? Fer it is but a sad tale, and one of which there be no truly heroic ends.”
“Aye, Sylvie. We do wish to hear of it. Please do go on.”
“Well, then I shall tell ye me own tale. To begin – startin’ in Ireland - it was but a year ere me own Lisa was born. I had met a most charmin’ man, who just simply swept me off me feet. And we were so happy, just bein’ in love, an’ not carin’ fer nothin’. Those were such good times, m’lords, that to e’en think on them now does give me some peace. But then I got pregnant wi’ me Lisa, and it was about this time that me man lost his job wi’ the brotherhood. And we were out upon the streets, lookin’ every day fer jobs – just any kind o’ job.
“As ye can imagine, our money got to be runnin’ out, and here I was, gettin’ bigger by the day. It was about this time when we were just almost penniless, with no jobs available, that we came upon an elderly knight, who had just lost his own wife, an’ when he saw me, he took pity on me, and then made an offer that me husband could hardly refuse. He offered to take me in, and to provide fer me care, and fer me newborn babe. In exchange, me husband would have to release me, and to tell no one about the arrangement. He got paid a handsome sum. I tearfully bade him farewell, and then he walked out o’ me life. And it turned out that Lisa was born, an’ we were at the very least content in his own home in Ireland. Mind ye, I did miss me Chauncey, every day…”
“Chauncey, did you say Chauncey?” asked a startled Craycroft.
“Oh, aye. Chauncey was his name.”
“Could you describe him for me?”
“Ye ask if I could describe the man who is the father o’ me child? It’s hard to do – he is a man of average height, with what was once dark brown hair, and a beard that used to have a little gray. Oh, I can see him in me mind’s eye, but to describe him…”
“Ah, good woman, you have no need, for so it is with most descriptions of persons – despite the fact of years in the other’s company – one cannot provide a description that would make another recognize him. But one look at Chauncey and you do forever recognize him.”
“As it is, kind sir, with me own. But do ye ask because ye’ve seen my Chauncey?” She asked with tears in her eyes. “Is he here upon this isle?”
“I do believe that he is, but alas, he is presently on a mission on the interior. And I know not when he shall return.” Craycroft continued. “But tell me if you will, just how it is that you are no longer wed (if I may use that term loosely), to that elderly Irish knight?”
“I do owe me freedom to the earl of Derrymoor…”
At that name, both of the men in the room startled.
“Did you say, the earl of Derrymoor, good woman?” Kerlin asked, taken aback. “For it is that very earl who represents us to the crown. And it is he whom we have asked for aid.”
“Aye, good sir, one and the same. He himself said that it was to Shepperton that we should go. It seems that Chauncey had with him a title to some land, and even when we were almost penniless, he would na’ give it up. And that land was on Shepperton Island. So the earl, he did arrange our own transport across the channel, and saw to it that Lisa n’ I were upon that boat.”
“And who was that knight, from whose clutches you were spared?” Kerlin asked again.
“Ah, kind sir,” she replied, “that I canna’ say, fer I did promise the earl that I would not repeat his name, after he bought me freedom.”
“Bought your freedom?” Craycroft puzzled for a moment, “’twould be very like the same earl whom we both know and love.”
There was a knock on the door and Aaron let in a servant, who carried a tray with fruits, cheeses and fresh bread. The servant girl curtsied, and placed the tray on the table next to Sylvie.
“Thank you, Melitta,” said Craycroft. Then, as Melitta quietly and quickly made her exit, he turned to Sylvie, and spoke. “Now, Sylvie, please take some of this bread and fruit. And what you do not eat now, you may take back with you.” He then poured four tumblers of brandy, and he offered them to all in the room.
“Oh, m’lord, Ye be too kind t’ me. Ne’er have I been treated with so much kindness.” Tears escaped her eyes, flowing over her ruddy cheeks.
“It is well, Sylvie, for your own sorrow is great. I can but offer thee a place in our castle, and some work as well. For it would appear that one of our own, a woman named Clarice, has been mightily injured by your Master Patronis. And you shall meet her after you leave here. And, be assured that your daughter, as well as our own Melchior, shall be returned safely, else woe to those that would do them harm.”
“Oh, aye to that!” Came Kerlin’s response. “But let me ask you another question, if I might.”
“Of course, sire…”
“It would appear that there is one more person about whom you may know something. And that would be a certain Master Guarneri…”
“Oh, aye, Master Kerlin, that is one who has been workin’ wi’ Master LeGace. An’ I canna’ tell ye much, but what I can tell ye is that he is but a mystery to me. At the first, he seemed to just be one o’ them, ye know, high an’ mighty types. But after me Lisa was stolen away, he seemed to reach his hand out to me, and to provide some comfort. But then, he goes off wi’ Master Patronis, and leaves me in that house, and then those guards, they just come, an’ they beat me, and left me tied up…”
“Ah, my good woman, that, too shall LeGace answer for. But, as you say, our man of mystery, Master Guarneri, it seems is now in camp with your Master Patronis, and just what they are after we do not know.”
“Might I suggest something, sire?” She asked.
“Of course…”
“One who Master Patronis mentioned as very important, was a Master Robert. And I do know that Emile did bring back with ‘im some papers, one evenin’. And I do believe that these papers were somethin’ very important to Master Robert. And I overheard some o’ what they were discussin’, an’ it involved Master Robert and his lady.”
“And it would appear,” said Craycroft, “that our own Melchior would be the one to talk to about that, if Melchior were still with us. And it is my fervent hope that Melchior and your own Lisa shall be shortly among us once more. Well now, my good woman, it would appear that you have given us knowledge of things we do need to keep in mind. And for this I thank thee.”
Frieda, who had been silent through the session, drained her brandy, and then turned to Sylvie, and said, “Now what did I tell ye, Sylvie – these were gentlemen, whom ye could trust. Now come wi’ me, and I’ll show ye to Clarice, and then I shall show ye where ye’ll be astayin’.”
After she had gathered up the cheese, fruit and bread, and offered her humble thanks, the two women left. Craycroft and Kerlin quickly talked over what they had learned from their encounter with Sylvie. It seemed that were too many coincidences at work to attribute all this to chance. Yet they needed to set into motion plans to find out where Guarneri and Patronis went, and what they were up to. And they needed to get a message to Tom, who had been dispatched again, with news of their latest findings.
“I’ll have you know,” Craycroft thought aloud, “I was just thinking back to that time, in winter, some four and a half years ago, when I got called out of my bed in the night. It was ostensibly to take care of my dear friend, Felicia. However I could feel the same hand of fate bearing down upon me as I feel today.”
“Aye, m’liege – ‘twas the same hand. Of that I am certain.”
Heir of DrachmaBook TwoCenter Game
Chapter One
Even to the alchemist, the underground enclosure reeked – of all the years of foul things, done in the name of captivity. It was almost too much, with the stench and nausea increasing the stress of his own captivity. He was down here, as was the lass. He couldn’t even imagine why the men brought her down here. The only light that reached them came from a torch which was close to the entrance to the underground cavern. Gently, he spoke to her.
“Lassie,” he said, “What is your name?”
The girl turned her head toward the tall man who was sitting down on the lone piece of furniture, an old wine cask.
“Me name’s Lisa,” she uttered, her voice hoarse from crying.
“Now Lisa, can ye tell me who your parents be?”
“Me Mum’s named Sylvie, an’ we’re stayin’ at the big house up by the castle.”
“And yer Papa…?”
“Don’ know me Papa.”
“Then who be the man you’re staying with at the mansion?”
“Name’s Patronis… Emile Patronis.”
That name stung him. And he had no way of conveying that information to Craycroft.
“Now I’m not goin’ to be in trouble, am I? Me Mum said I was not to tell…”
“Ah, nay, m’lass. You’re not going to get into trouble – not any more trouble than we’re both in right now. My name’s Melchior. And I’m an alchemist… do you know what an alchemist is?”
Melchior could tell that Lisa was relaxing her guard.
“Nay, I know not. What is an al… alche…?”
“An alchemist. What I do is to mix potions – ye know, if ye’re sick and such. These potions help ye heal.”
“D’ye make magic?”
“Nay, lassie, not magic”
“Too bad…”
“Well, I shall try to keep you safe, even though I have no magic.”
Over the next hour, Melchior found out that Lisa and her mother had been in the village of Armaugh, and had tried to find work. Ever since the inn burned down, and they were left destitute, they had been trying anything and everything, and then along came this Patronis fellow, with a plan. If they would pretend to be his wife and daughter, he could find work for them, and they agreed.
She could tell that he was an educated man, by the way he talked, but he pretended to be a simpleton, from the country, and the work they found was at the mansion. There were two men, a Master Guarneri, and a Master LeGace who set them up in their work, and were their employers. It all seemed to go along just fine, until those men just burst into the house, and took her away from her Mum. And then she discovered that it was Master LeGace who was in charge, and brought her over here. She just couldn’t understand what Master LeGace would want with her.
Anyway, here they were, at least for now. With the possibility of escape highly unlikely, they seemed to be at the mercy of their captors. They were on Dunnigan’s Isle – that much Melchior knew - but more than that he could not tell. This underground place had obviously been used over the years to ply the trades of trappers, hunters, and obviously tanners. There were some things from which the smells never seemed to disappear, and tanning hides was one of them.
Lisa and Melchior had been brought to the island, just as dawn was breaking, and then they were marched through the forest to this place. The house looked no more than a small, unkempt cottage. And there were but a handful of men guarding the premises. But they were taken into the back of the house, where there was a small entryway, which led down into the earth. They were each given a small, stale roll, and a bowl of porridge, and then the doorway was sealed. It seemed hours ago, but who could tell, as there was no light, beyond the torch.
Melchior could do nothing, except talk to the girl, to keep her safe, but he was not at all certain if he could even do that. This was so like the Antoine LeGace he remembered, a man evil to the core, who thought nothing of treating his subjects with utter disdain. If there were anything at all he could do, but there seemed to be nothing. The time dragged on and on.
Eventually, the door opened, and a couple of burly men came down the walkway, and brought with them a fairly large container of water, with a single metal cup. They set the vessel down in their midst. While one of the men replaced the sputtering torch, the other informed them of the rules the two of them were to obey.
“Now ye’ll be here as our prisoners as long as Master LeGace wants. And, as prisoners, ye’ll have no access to the outside, for any reason. We’ll be feedin’ ye twice a day. And any attempt at escape, shall be met with death. Is that understood?”
“Oh, aye,” answered Melchior. But he was thinking of what he could do. For the boredom alone would be a sentence as stiff as any other he could think about.
“Very well,” said their captor, as he turned to leave. The doorway shut again with a reverberating thud.
For a while afterward, Melchior and Lisa just sat, and eventually Melchior got up, and went over to the water vessel, and got a cup full of water, and took it over to Lisa, who was crying again, and said, “Here, Lisa. Take some of the water. I know that you must ache from thirst.”
She took the cup of water, and between sobs, drank it down.
And Melchior silently prayed. He prayed for the safety of Lisa, and he prayed for his own wife and child. And also for himself, that he be granted some semblance of grace to withstand what appeared to be this mind-numbing imprisonment.
Frieda led the timid waif up the way of the winding stairway, to the meeting room that was prepared. She knocked on the large, ornate door, and was let in by Aaron.
“Oh, do come this way, ladies,” he said. “Craycroft and Kerlin have been waiting for ye.”
“Oh, thank ye, Aaron,” answered Frieda, and then, turning toward the small, shy woman, she added, “Ye shall be safe with these gentlemen, but I shall stay here with ye.” Next, she very gently took the hand of the young woman and guided her into the comfortable sitting room.
“Oh, please, Sylvie, sit down here.” Said Craycroft, gently. “You shall know that Kerlin and I are not to be feared, and are committed to your own safety, as well the safety of your daughter.”
Silently, Sylvie sat down in the chair that was offered her. Her lip quivered, and she found it impossible to speak. Craycroft noticed, and took his time with the woman, whose whole world had just been turned upside down.
“Now, my good woman,” he said calmly, “I do know that you are feeling lost and alone. So let me begin by telling you of what we do know of your circumstances, and then, as you feel able, you may correct our misunderstandings.”
She nodded, still not saying a word.
“What we do know is that you and your girl, I believe you called her Lisa, have been living in the mansion, that was once owned by Councilor Reordan, and also that you were in the company of one Emile Patronis. Now we have reason to believe that it may have been a man named Antoine LeGace who was your employer. Am I right so far?”
She again nodded.
“We also know that it was a pair of strong, heavily armed men who came into the mansion, and stole away your daughter. One of whom was a man with either white or very pale hair. Further we do know that it was Antoine Legace himself in charge of the raiding party, and that Master LeGace and about eight others rowed off with your daughter. And also, they took our master alchemist, a man named Melchior, along with your daughter in the boat, which we believe was going toward Dunnigan’s Isle.
“And let me tell you, my dear woman, that we are enraged by our loss, as you are by your own. But we do believe that we have the might of men to bring them both back to safety. And we feel that you might be able to help us.” Craycroft noticed that she immediately tensed up at this. “Nay, Sylvie – not with your actions – but rather with your knowledge. You see, we do need some information which you alone have.”
“Information?” She finally said. “What information would that be?”
“What we need is to find out from you is just how you came to be in the company of Master Patronis, and how it was that he knew of Master LeGace.”
“Well, m’lord, if ye must know, I worked at the inn in Armaugh, when it burned down.”
“Aye, Sylvie, I did hear of that,” Kerlin noted. “That was truly a disaster, and was not one of the employed killed in that fire?”
“Oh, aye, m’lord. It was one o’ the kitchen maids, named Lydia, and such a wonderful woman, too. She was the one to come early, and to make the dough for the day’s bread.”
“And such a loss it was,” continued Kerlin, “but tell me Sylvie, how it was that you came to be working at the inn. For I hear tell that you were widowed…”
“Oh, m’lord, d’ye truly want to hear of me life ere that? Fer it is but a sad tale, and one of which there be no truly heroic ends.”
“Aye, Sylvie. We do wish to hear of it. Please do go on.”
“Well, then I shall tell ye me own tale. To begin – startin’ in Ireland - it was but a year ere me own Lisa was born. I had met a most charmin’ man, who just simply swept me off me feet. And we were so happy, just bein’ in love, an’ not carin’ fer nothin’. Those were such good times, m’lords, that to e’en think on them now does give me some peace. But then I got pregnant wi’ me Lisa, and it was about this time that me man lost his job wi’ the brotherhood. And we were out upon the streets, lookin’ every day fer jobs – just any kind o’ job.
“As ye can imagine, our money got to be runnin’ out, and here I was, gettin’ bigger by the day. It was about this time when we were just almost penniless, with no jobs available, that we came upon an elderly knight, who had just lost his own wife, an’ when he saw me, he took pity on me, and then made an offer that me husband could hardly refuse. He offered to take me in, and to provide fer me care, and fer me newborn babe. In exchange, me husband would have to release me, and to tell no one about the arrangement. He got paid a handsome sum. I tearfully bade him farewell, and then he walked out o’ me life. And it turned out that Lisa was born, an’ we were at the very least content in his own home in Ireland. Mind ye, I did miss me Chauncey, every day…”
“Chauncey, did you say Chauncey?” asked a startled Craycroft.
“Oh, aye. Chauncey was his name.”
“Could you describe him for me?”
“Ye ask if I could describe the man who is the father o’ me child? It’s hard to do – he is a man of average height, with what was once dark brown hair, and a beard that used to have a little gray. Oh, I can see him in me mind’s eye, but to describe him…”
“Ah, good woman, you have no need, for so it is with most descriptions of persons – despite the fact of years in the other’s company – one cannot provide a description that would make another recognize him. But one look at Chauncey and you do forever recognize him.”
“As it is, kind sir, with me own. But do ye ask because ye’ve seen my Chauncey?” She asked with tears in her eyes. “Is he here upon this isle?”
“I do believe that he is, but alas, he is presently on a mission on the interior. And I know not when he shall return.” Craycroft continued. “But tell me if you will, just how it is that you are no longer wed (if I may use that term loosely), to that elderly Irish knight?”
“I do owe me freedom to the earl of Derrymoor…”
At that name, both of the men in the room startled.
“Did you say, the earl of Derrymoor, good woman?” Kerlin asked, taken aback. “For it is that very earl who represents us to the crown. And it is he whom we have asked for aid.”
“Aye, good sir, one and the same. He himself said that it was to Shepperton that we should go. It seems that Chauncey had with him a title to some land, and even when we were almost penniless, he would na’ give it up. And that land was on Shepperton Island. So the earl, he did arrange our own transport across the channel, and saw to it that Lisa n’ I were upon that boat.”
“And who was that knight, from whose clutches you were spared?” Kerlin asked again.
“Ah, kind sir,” she replied, “that I canna’ say, fer I did promise the earl that I would not repeat his name, after he bought me freedom.”
“Bought your freedom?” Craycroft puzzled for a moment, “’twould be very like the same earl whom we both know and love.”
There was a knock on the door and Aaron let in a servant, who carried a tray with fruits, cheeses and fresh bread. The servant girl curtsied, and placed the tray on the table next to Sylvie.
“Thank you, Melitta,” said Craycroft. Then, as Melitta quietly and quickly made her exit, he turned to Sylvie, and spoke. “Now, Sylvie, please take some of this bread and fruit. And what you do not eat now, you may take back with you.” He then poured four tumblers of brandy, and he offered them to all in the room.
“Oh, m’lord, Ye be too kind t’ me. Ne’er have I been treated with so much kindness.” Tears escaped her eyes, flowing over her ruddy cheeks.
“It is well, Sylvie, for your own sorrow is great. I can but offer thee a place in our castle, and some work as well. For it would appear that one of our own, a woman named Clarice, has been mightily injured by your Master Patronis. And you shall meet her after you leave here. And, be assured that your daughter, as well as our own Melchior, shall be returned safely, else woe to those that would do them harm.”
“Oh, aye to that!” Came Kerlin’s response. “But let me ask you another question, if I might.”
“Of course, sire…”
“It would appear that there is one more person about whom you may know something. And that would be a certain Master Guarneri…”
“Oh, aye, Master Kerlin, that is one who has been workin’ wi’ Master LeGace. An’ I canna’ tell ye much, but what I can tell ye is that he is but a mystery to me. At the first, he seemed to just be one o’ them, ye know, high an’ mighty types. But after me Lisa was stolen away, he seemed to reach his hand out to me, and to provide some comfort. But then, he goes off wi’ Master Patronis, and leaves me in that house, and then those guards, they just come, an’ they beat me, and left me tied up…”
“Ah, my good woman, that, too shall LeGace answer for. But, as you say, our man of mystery, Master Guarneri, it seems is now in camp with your Master Patronis, and just what they are after we do not know.”
“Might I suggest something, sire?” She asked.
“Of course…”
“One who Master Patronis mentioned as very important, was a Master Robert. And I do know that Emile did bring back with ‘im some papers, one evenin’. And I do believe that these papers were somethin’ very important to Master Robert. And I overheard some o’ what they were discussin’, an’ it involved Master Robert and his lady.”
“And it would appear,” said Craycroft, “that our own Melchior would be the one to talk to about that, if Melchior were still with us. And it is my fervent hope that Melchior and your own Lisa shall be shortly among us once more. Well now, my good woman, it would appear that you have given us knowledge of things we do need to keep in mind. And for this I thank thee.”
Frieda, who had been silent through the session, drained her brandy, and then turned to Sylvie, and said, “Now what did I tell ye, Sylvie – these were gentlemen, whom ye could trust. Now come wi’ me, and I’ll show ye to Clarice, and then I shall show ye where ye’ll be astayin’.”
After she had gathered up the cheese, fruit and bread, and offered her humble thanks, the two women left. Craycroft and Kerlin quickly talked over what they had learned from their encounter with Sylvie. It seemed that were too many coincidences at work to attribute all this to chance. Yet they needed to set into motion plans to find out where Guarneri and Patronis went, and what they were up to. And they needed to get a message to Tom, who had been dispatched again, with news of their latest findings.
“I’ll have you know,” Craycroft thought aloud, “I was just thinking back to that time, in winter, some four and a half years ago, when I got called out of my bed in the night. It was ostensibly to take care of my dear friend, Felicia. However I could feel the same hand of fate bearing down upon me as I feel today.”
“Aye, m’liege – ‘twas the same hand. Of that I am certain.”
April 4, 2020
New developments (finally)
After considerable delay, both due to the fact that I no longer have a publisher (my publisher got himself and his father arrested for fraud, extortion and the like), and my own inertia/procrastination, I have now completed Book Five.
What is Book Five? It is a continuation of the second trilogy in the Drachma series. The book is actually entitled Center Game, Heir of Drachma, Book Two. And to tell you the truth, it does give me the impetus to continue on with Book Six. I did pour my heart and soul into the writing of this entity, particularly the last quarter of the book, when, by its own steam it took me from lethargy to rapt attention. And believe me, there is so much more to tell, as events unfold in 15th Century Shepperton and 20th Century Middle America. As Drachma is aging, he has turned over the control of the window of time to his grandson. And there is a very real and powerful enemy wanting control over Shepperton, and plenty of new characters to do battle with evil forces on the isle, along with older characters, including Craycroft, Bob, Judy, Kerlin, Cayman, Diane, Eustace and the like.
Now, as I try to find a new publisher, you may request your own copy of my unedited, raw but original manuscript, especially if you want to review it, and thereby get your name in print as a contributor to a worthy cause!
What is Book Five? It is a continuation of the second trilogy in the Drachma series. The book is actually entitled Center Game, Heir of Drachma, Book Two. And to tell you the truth, it does give me the impetus to continue on with Book Six. I did pour my heart and soul into the writing of this entity, particularly the last quarter of the book, when, by its own steam it took me from lethargy to rapt attention. And believe me, there is so much more to tell, as events unfold in 15th Century Shepperton and 20th Century Middle America. As Drachma is aging, he has turned over the control of the window of time to his grandson. And there is a very real and powerful enemy wanting control over Shepperton, and plenty of new characters to do battle with evil forces on the isle, along with older characters, including Craycroft, Bob, Judy, Kerlin, Cayman, Diane, Eustace and the like.
Now, as I try to find a new publisher, you may request your own copy of my unedited, raw but original manuscript, especially if you want to review it, and thereby get your name in print as a contributor to a worthy cause!
June 11, 2018
A little catching up (for now).
It would appear that I've got a lot to do in terms of catching up!
Going back to when I was actively blogging, a lot has happened in my life. First of all, I do continue to write, and book five (Heir of Drachma, Book Two - Center Game) is progressing toward its conclusion (with book six still "out there"). I have had to to this without a publisher, as mine got himself arrested on charges of fraud, embezzlement and the like. And so, my need of editorial help is still an issue, though not insurmountable. To give you a timetable, it looks as though I'll be done writing Center Game within the next month or so, and then I plan to launch book four (Heir of Drachma, The Healer's Defense), along with Center Game together. This will be within the format of self-publishing.
What happens in book five? Well, a lot - with all the protagonists, antagonists, and sundry players getting into the action. As with the game of chess, the variables increase the complexity in the midgame, and only gradually bring things toward the conclusion (Book Six). So be prepared for a culmination in Center Game, which will be thrilling, yet incomplete. There will be elements of chaos, along with otherworldly intrigue.
Mind you, all of this has been playing out with my own history, which has turned out to be a drama of another sort. Nineteen years ago I underwent Aortic Valve Replacement for a severely leaky Aortic Valve. At that time, it would appear, that I also had mild dilatation of the aortic annulus (the ring of tissue which forms the beginning of the aorta), which was not at that time considered too worrisome. Nineteen years later, it would appear that my aortic root had become an aneurysm (6 Cm in transverse diameter), and now needed surgical intervention.
So a little over 2 weeks ago, I underwent another major open heart procedure. This time, they put in a conduit which contained a new aortic valve, with a sleeve to replace my aortic aneurysm. Next they had to transplant my coronary arteries to the new graft. Somewhere in all of this my sinoatrial node got itself caught up into the swirl, and became nonfunctional, requiring a permanent pacemaker. And now, I'm recovering from all of this, and doing remarkably well (though still a long ways from being back to normal).
So, here I am, weaker, but more determined than ever to finish what I've started. You should be hearing more from me within the next month or so.
Going back to when I was actively blogging, a lot has happened in my life. First of all, I do continue to write, and book five (Heir of Drachma, Book Two - Center Game) is progressing toward its conclusion (with book six still "out there"). I have had to to this without a publisher, as mine got himself arrested on charges of fraud, embezzlement and the like. And so, my need of editorial help is still an issue, though not insurmountable. To give you a timetable, it looks as though I'll be done writing Center Game within the next month or so, and then I plan to launch book four (Heir of Drachma, The Healer's Defense), along with Center Game together. This will be within the format of self-publishing.
What happens in book five? Well, a lot - with all the protagonists, antagonists, and sundry players getting into the action. As with the game of chess, the variables increase the complexity in the midgame, and only gradually bring things toward the conclusion (Book Six). So be prepared for a culmination in Center Game, which will be thrilling, yet incomplete. There will be elements of chaos, along with otherworldly intrigue.
Mind you, all of this has been playing out with my own history, which has turned out to be a drama of another sort. Nineteen years ago I underwent Aortic Valve Replacement for a severely leaky Aortic Valve. At that time, it would appear, that I also had mild dilatation of the aortic annulus (the ring of tissue which forms the beginning of the aorta), which was not at that time considered too worrisome. Nineteen years later, it would appear that my aortic root had become an aneurysm (6 Cm in transverse diameter), and now needed surgical intervention.
So a little over 2 weeks ago, I underwent another major open heart procedure. This time, they put in a conduit which contained a new aortic valve, with a sleeve to replace my aortic aneurysm. Next they had to transplant my coronary arteries to the new graft. Somewhere in all of this my sinoatrial node got itself caught up into the swirl, and became nonfunctional, requiring a permanent pacemaker. And now, I'm recovering from all of this, and doing remarkably well (though still a long ways from being back to normal).
So, here I am, weaker, but more determined than ever to finish what I've started. You should be hearing more from me within the next month or so.
September 20, 2017
Something quite new, and something old...
Tomorrow, September 21st, 2017, I start a new "chapter" in my life. It will be the launch of my original fantasy trilogy (The Book of Drachma, second edition), but it will be as an Indie author.
With Tate publishing now defunct, I have decided to continue with my efforts, under the name of Drachma Publishing. The three books will have the same cover designs that were on the original, and will become available through Amazon, and at a much reduced price compared with Tate. It will be, of course, the same characters, the same story, set across two time periods, the same mystery, and the same fantastical medical twists and turns. So, if you didn't get on the bandwagon with the original series, now will be the time.
With Tate publishing now defunct, I have decided to continue with my efforts, under the name of Drachma Publishing. The three books will have the same cover designs that were on the original, and will become available through Amazon, and at a much reduced price compared with Tate. It will be, of course, the same characters, the same story, set across two time periods, the same mystery, and the same fantastical medical twists and turns. So, if you didn't get on the bandwagon with the original series, now will be the time.
August 26, 2017
After the arrests...
Well, now what?
After the arrests of my publisher and his son, who were running the Tate publishing enterprise, it would appear as though I've got to find another avenue for my own (four) books to get published. And so, it looks as though self publishing would be the most expeditious venture for me. After all, I've been through the tough part, and now it seems as though there are still those of you out there who still do want to read my books - so for you, mainly, this is just to let you know that I will be publishing again, under the name of Drachma Publishing. As to when we are going to launch, the date has not been set yet, but it should be soon, and I will announce it - here as well as elsewhere.
Now even though Tate Publishing does owe me money (roughly $4000 in goods and services), I have decided not to pursue legal action against them. And besides that my chances of recovering the money seem exceedingly slim. And so, I'll let bygones be forever in the past.
What I am doing is to keep the cover designs on the four published books, and revamping the inside stuff, and you will be able to get (initially) three books, at a fraction of the cost that Tate would have charged, and you can buy them either in paperback or ebook format. And besides that, look for enticing giveaways.
Now what has happened with the whole Hollywood thing? What I did, in conjunction with a producer, was to put together a proposal for a TV show based (somewhat loosely) on my story. It's still out there, and is still a viable entity. However, my suspicion is that it may get more "press" after I launch my new effort. We'll have to see how that all plays out.
Anyway, have a terrific day, and for your enjoyment, I've included a photo from our latest venture to Alaska.
After the arrests of my publisher and his son, who were running the Tate publishing enterprise, it would appear as though I've got to find another avenue for my own (four) books to get published. And so, it looks as though self publishing would be the most expeditious venture for me. After all, I've been through the tough part, and now it seems as though there are still those of you out there who still do want to read my books - so for you, mainly, this is just to let you know that I will be publishing again, under the name of Drachma Publishing. As to when we are going to launch, the date has not been set yet, but it should be soon, and I will announce it - here as well as elsewhere.
Now even though Tate Publishing does owe me money (roughly $4000 in goods and services), I have decided not to pursue legal action against them. And besides that my chances of recovering the money seem exceedingly slim. And so, I'll let bygones be forever in the past.
What I am doing is to keep the cover designs on the four published books, and revamping the inside stuff, and you will be able to get (initially) three books, at a fraction of the cost that Tate would have charged, and you can buy them either in paperback or ebook format. And besides that, look for enticing giveaways.
Now what has happened with the whole Hollywood thing? What I did, in conjunction with a producer, was to put together a proposal for a TV show based (somewhat loosely) on my story. It's still out there, and is still a viable entity. However, my suspicion is that it may get more "press" after I launch my new effort. We'll have to see how that all plays out.
Anyway, have a terrific day, and for your enjoyment, I've included a photo from our latest venture to Alaska.
May 14, 2017
New (and some unexpected) developments.
If I was thinking that things couldn't get any stranger, I'd be so wrong.
Well, now my "temporarily defunct" publisher has been arrested. Or more precisely Tate's CEO as well as his father have been arrested, and charged with fraud, extortion, racketeering and embezzlement. With eight felony counts and one misdemeanor count against them, the likelihood of their getting out of this one seems remote, and the likelihood of ever seeing any of my money invested in their schemes seems equally unlikely. As I said, it's a really good thing that I still have a day job!
In the meantime, I have reached out to other publishers, and we'll have to see where this might lead. For those of you who have gotten copies of my books, consider yourselves fortunate indeed.
As a completed trilogy, The Book of Drachma (Laminar Flow, Coaptation, Turbulence and Restoration) was a rather satisfying effort. I realize that more could be done with a decent editor, but we'll have to see. And what of the next trilogy? The first volume of Heir of Drachma (The Healer's Defense) is still somewhat available (and, according to those who have read it, they say that it is the best I've written). And I'm still finishing up Center Game as I ponder the future.
Well, now, here's John Wayne for you - not that he plays any role in my books, but he stands out in a crowd, which is what I'll be trying to do in the future of publishing.
And now on a lighter note, my daughter in California has been trying for at least a few years to adopt a child, and now she has gone home with a newborn baby girl. It would seem a bit presumptuous of me to say, but some of the things that happen to us come around by way of our own doings, and others seem to happen as unexpected delights! And here's my daughter 35+ years ago:
Time does fly, doesn't it?
Well, now my "temporarily defunct" publisher has been arrested. Or more precisely Tate's CEO as well as his father have been arrested, and charged with fraud, extortion, racketeering and embezzlement. With eight felony counts and one misdemeanor count against them, the likelihood of their getting out of this one seems remote, and the likelihood of ever seeing any of my money invested in their schemes seems equally unlikely. As I said, it's a really good thing that I still have a day job!
In the meantime, I have reached out to other publishers, and we'll have to see where this might lead. For those of you who have gotten copies of my books, consider yourselves fortunate indeed.
As a completed trilogy, The Book of Drachma (Laminar Flow, Coaptation, Turbulence and Restoration) was a rather satisfying effort. I realize that more could be done with a decent editor, but we'll have to see. And what of the next trilogy? The first volume of Heir of Drachma (The Healer's Defense) is still somewhat available (and, according to those who have read it, they say that it is the best I've written). And I'm still finishing up Center Game as I ponder the future.
Well, now, here's John Wayne for you - not that he plays any role in my books, but he stands out in a crowd, which is what I'll be trying to do in the future of publishing.And now on a lighter note, my daughter in California has been trying for at least a few years to adopt a child, and now she has gone home with a newborn baby girl. It would seem a bit presumptuous of me to say, but some of the things that happen to us come around by way of our own doings, and others seem to happen as unexpected delights! And here's my daughter 35+ years ago:
Time does fly, doesn't it?
April 28, 2017
Well, now what...?
As I've been whiling away my time, and still working on book five in the series (Center Game), I just got an email from my temporarily defunct publisher. It seems they have no intention of permanently disappearing into the dust of publishers passed and gone. And it appears they do want those of us who have books published with them to stay put, and not to sign on with other publishers who are offering to republish our books (at a price, of course). Though Tate Publishing has not yet come out with anything as concrete as a true offer, it would seem that they are planning to honor any commitments that have made. Hmm...
Being in a position to wait has got me in a position better than many. I can continue to work on book five (and book six), and wait for my publisher to actually make an offer. Not having a deadline has both its advantages and disadvantages. The advantages are that I can continue working on my writing "at my own pace," which is a good thing. The other advantage is that I presumably will not be out anything if they do keep their word, and eventually honor their commitment. The disadvantages are that you won't be able to see the end result for this uncertain period of time. And also the "not being on the clock" can have a deleterious effect on productivity - yet I hope one that is not extremely serious.
At least for the present time, I'll just keep working on Center Game, and we'll see how the next couple of months turn out.
And here are a few more photos for you to enjoy (and I have no intention of giving up on my photography either).
Being in a position to wait has got me in a position better than many. I can continue to work on book five (and book six), and wait for my publisher to actually make an offer. Not having a deadline has both its advantages and disadvantages. The advantages are that I can continue working on my writing "at my own pace," which is a good thing. The other advantage is that I presumably will not be out anything if they do keep their word, and eventually honor their commitment. The disadvantages are that you won't be able to see the end result for this uncertain period of time. And also the "not being on the clock" can have a deleterious effect on productivity - yet I hope one that is not extremely serious.
At least for the present time, I'll just keep working on Center Game, and we'll see how the next couple of months turn out.
And here are a few more photos for you to enjoy (and I have no intention of giving up on my photography either).
March 9, 2017
How one's world gets turned on its head
Well, it seems that life just threw me a new wrinkle. After all the years with Tate Publishing, and their questionable ethics, it seems that they are now "in transition." They offered no explanation, but said that their aim was to set up something whereby we, who have been Tate authors, were to be provided some sort of assurance that we would be cared for. Hmmm...
What I do know is that they are not publishing anything at all, and have left no phone number to contact them. They have given us statements that we may sign, which, in effect absolves them of any responsibility. I have not chosen to sign such a statement, for the simple reason that they do owe me money as well as rights to upcoming novels. I guess that I'll just have to find out where things are going from here. It might just be that they are planning to sell out, which would be fine as long as the new owners would make good on what I'm owed. But having been something of a cynic when it come to dealing with corporate entities, I'm not holding my breath.
Ah, well! On a brighter note, I do actually have a book signing event set up for March 11th, at the Rogers public library, 711 South Dixieland Road in rogers, from 10 AM till about 5 PM. I plan to sell what I can of the books in my possession, and besides, I'll have some of my photographic enlargements as well to sell. If you would like to see some of what I've got to sell in the way of photos, I've got a couple of examples here.
What I do know is that they are not publishing anything at all, and have left no phone number to contact them. They have given us statements that we may sign, which, in effect absolves them of any responsibility. I have not chosen to sign such a statement, for the simple reason that they do owe me money as well as rights to upcoming novels. I guess that I'll just have to find out where things are going from here. It might just be that they are planning to sell out, which would be fine as long as the new owners would make good on what I'm owed. But having been something of a cynic when it come to dealing with corporate entities, I'm not holding my breath.
Ah, well! On a brighter note, I do actually have a book signing event set up for March 11th, at the Rogers public library, 711 South Dixieland Road in rogers, from 10 AM till about 5 PM. I plan to sell what I can of the books in my possession, and besides, I'll have some of my photographic enlargements as well to sell. If you would like to see some of what I've got to sell in the way of photos, I've got a couple of examples here.
June 24, 2016
If at first you forget...
While I'm thinking about what tomorrow means, here are a couple more opportunities to get to know my books (or to get your friends acquainted with my oeuvre). I'm going to be at a couple more book signing type events in the next few weeks. The first of these is at the Barnes & Noble Bookstore in Rogers, Arkansas (in the shopping center, across from Lowe's) on Saturday, July 9th from about 12 Noon - 5 PM. This will be a great opportunity to get in out of the heat, to come by, to sit and schmooze, and to share what you like or dislike about books, the world at large and for me to just enjoy your very special company.
And the next opportunity is also in Rogers, AR, at the Rogers Public Library ( 711 S Dixieland) on Saturday, July 16th, from about 10 AM to 4 PM, at their event, called Create-it Con. This promises to be a rare and fun event for the entire family. If you need any more information you may obtain it online at: library.rpl.lib.ar.us
In any event, I look forward to seeing you at one or both of the events.Now just a word about what tomorrow brings. It will be the date in which I officially become a SENIOR CITIZEN. That's right, I can no longer pretend to just be anybody, but I'll have to pretend to be someone who knows something, even if I can't remember what it is. It seems like a good thing that I know today what I may forget tomorrow...
And the next opportunity is also in Rogers, AR, at the Rogers Public Library ( 711 S Dixieland) on Saturday, July 16th, from about 10 AM to 4 PM, at their event, called Create-it Con. This promises to be a rare and fun event for the entire family. If you need any more information you may obtain it online at: library.rpl.lib.ar.us
In any event, I look forward to seeing you at one or both of the events.Now just a word about what tomorrow brings. It will be the date in which I officially become a SENIOR CITIZEN. That's right, I can no longer pretend to just be anybody, but I'll have to pretend to be someone who knows something, even if I can't remember what it is. It seems like a good thing that I know today what I may forget tomorrow...
