[Blog Tour] 'The Wisdom of the Flock: Franklin and Mesmer in Paris' By Steve M. Gnatz #HistoricalFiction

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The Book:

The Wisdom of the Flock: Franklin and Mesmer in Paris
By Steve M. Gnatz

• Publication Date: November 2020
• Publisher: Leather Apron Press
• Page Length: 541 Pages
• Genre: Historical Fiction

The Book Trailer:

The Blurb:

A WORLD OF ENLIGHTENMENT, REVOLUTION, AND INTRIGUE

1776: Benjamin Franklin sails to Paris, carrying a copy of the Declaration of Independence, freshly signed. His charge: gain the support of France for the unfolding American Revolution. Yet Paris is a city of distractions. Ben’s lover, Marianne Davies, will soon arrive, and he yearns to rekindle his affair with the beautiful musician.

Dr. Franz Mesmer has plans for Marianne too. He has taken Parisian nobility by storm with his discovery of magnétisme animale, a mysterious force claimed to heal the sick. Marianne’s ability to channel Mesmer’s phenomena is key to his success.

A skeptical King Louis XVI appoints Ben to head a commission investigating the astonishing magnétisme animale. By nature, Ben requires proof. Can he scientifically prove that it does not exist? Mesmer will stop at nothing to protect his profitable claim.

The Wisdom of The Flock explores the conflict between science and mysticism in a time rife with revolution, love, spies, and passion.

• Trigger Warnings: Mild sexual content

• Buy Links: Available on Kindle Unlimited ✔ Amazon UK ✔ Amazon US ✔ Amazon CA ✔ Amazon AU ✔ Barnes and Noble ✔ Waterstones ✔ 

The Wisdom of the Flock - Book Cover

'The Wisdom of the Flock: Franklin and Mesmer in Paris' - Excerpt:

The crew would be starting their breakfast soon, yet food was the last thing Ben wanted. He made his way to the cloth-covered part of the deck. The thick oaken planks were wet with rain and sea spray. The area he sought was sheltered from the howling wind. Ben found the air on deck to be electrically charged and more invigorating than usual, exactly what he needed to settle his stomach and pounding head.

Ben sat down on a deck chair and spread a heavy wool blanket over his legs to shelter himself from the cold ocean spray.

“Do you believe in God, Doctor Franklin?” a deep voice asked.

Ben jumped, flailing his arms out of his lap. He hadn’t realized he was not alone. He squinted through his bifocals to make out a gaunt man, completely dressed in black, occupying a nearby chair. He was as emaciated as a saint but with the haughty countenance of a bishop. It was the Reverend William Smith.

“Reverend, I fervently hope that not only does He exist on such a foul day as this . . . but that He has a benevolent nature,” Ben replied.

The Reverend sat back and pulled a blanket up around his neck. “Well spoken,” he said with a chill in his voice.

Ben had learned long ago that there was no gain to be had in debating religious faith with devotees such as the Reverend. It wasn’t that Ben didn’t believe in God; it was simply that he didn’t have proof. And Ben needed proof of things. He could think of only a few aspects of his life that he was willing to take on faith. The love of his late wife came to mind. But then, that belief hadn’t been based entirely on faith either, for she had had ways of proving her love to him. God was a different matter altogether. A painful memory flashed of Ben praying to God to spare his son Francis from the pox, but the four-year-old succumbed. While this certainly wasn’t proof that God didn’t exist, though, it had shaken his faith. However, Ben knew that, like any true believer worth his salt, the Reverend would have an explanation for God’s lapse. Ben decided to change the subject.

“That bolt of lightning was close just now,” Ben said. He gazed out at the clouds that flashed in the distance.

“Aye, a bit too close for comfort,” the Reverend said. “But we can thank the Almighty for the effectiveness of your lightning rod. Lord knows how many ships were destroyed by fire before you were inspired by Him to invent it.”

Ben had not been certain that the clergyman would even know about his invention. Smith’s reply encouraged him to go on.

“Thank you, Reverend,” he said. “The Lord works in mysterious ways, even through men such as me. Though I am sure He’s familiar with how the rod works, I wonder if you are?”

The Reverend sat up a bit. “I know only that the lightning bolt was somehow prevented from striking the ship,” he replied.

“Oh no, the lightning almost certainly struck our ship just now,” Ben explained. “Our mast is the tallest point for miles at sea. When I began studying the behavior of lightning, I noted that it always seeks the highest point in the landscape. Not only that, but also that lightning always seeks its way to the ground. My lightning rod simply creates a safe channel for the lightning to pass through the ship, so as not to endanger the vessel or its cargo. If the lightning were to strike a mast, there would be damage or fire. And if the damage were severe enough, it might even sink the ship.

“My rod is placed at the highest point on the ship and attracts the lightning. But that alone isn’t enough to prevent catastrophe, for I also found that I needed to channel it through the ship to the water. A thick metal cable runs from the lightning rod to below the water line to accomplish this.”

“A truly marvelous invention,” the Reverend replied. “Thanks be to God. But I thought you said that lightning always seeks the ground. Wouldn’t you have to run your metal cable back to the Colonies for the rod to be effective?”

“Excellent, excellent,” Ben exclaimed, “that is just the sort of question a man of science carries within him like a man of the cloth seeks to understand the mysteries of his faith . . . but I do beg to remind you that our country is now called the United States of America.”

“Oh, yes! Force of habit,” the Reverend exclaimed.

“Perhaps not a bad habit to maintain until your mission is accomplished,” Ben said. “Your Anglican Church does not support independence for the people of the United States.”

“That doth vex me,” the Reverend replied. He sunk back in his chair.

Ben resumed his explanation animatedly. “You will observe Reverend, as I did early on, that lightning is an electrical fluid that has no trouble traveling quickly through the air. Through careful experiments, I also found that this electrical fluid travels through water, albeit more slowly. Hence, there’s no need to run a cable back to shore so long as we are connected to the earth by water. Scientists around the world have taken to calling this electrical fluid ‘electricity’.”

“But what do you believe to be the source of this ‘electricity’, as you call it?” the Reverend asked. “The Bible tells us that lightning is sent down from Heaven by God.”

A slight shiver traveled Ben’s spine. Was it the cold sea spray or a sense that the Reverend was once again testing his religious beliefs?

It had not been so many years since scientists had been treated as heretics and persecuted for their belief that natural forces might be studied for the benefit of mankind. Now, in modern-day 1776, in this age of enlightenment, a fragile truce existed between religion and science. Ben believed the truce had occurred in part because of advances in natural philosophy—the science of the natural world and medicine.

The revelation that tiny creatures seen through the microscope by Van Leeuwenhoek and others in the last century might be the cause of human diseases was gaining wider acceptance. With increasing frequency, descriptions of these microbes and their associated diseases were being published in the proceedings of the Royal Society in London.

Ben had a personal stake in understanding the spread of disease and in making others aware. Smallpox had claimed the life of his beloved son Francis over forty years ago, and still claimed the lives of thousands each year.

It was disheartening that despite the advent of effective inoculation against smallpox, the Church continued to consider the medical technique to be inconsistent with the established canon. Ben had stormed out of more than one sermon when the clergyman had condemned vaccination as unholy.

“Reverend, you may if you wish, believe that lightning represents the wrath of God . . . sent down to avenge the sins of mankind,” Ben said. “But I believe that this electrical fluid is simply another natural force—no more mystical than the powerful flow of water through a stream that the miller uses to turn a wheel and grind the grain from the field. Mankind has learned to harness many natural forces. While it is wild and dangerous today, I believe that electricity may someday yield tangible benefits to mankind . . . if we can learn how to channel it appropriately.”

The Reverend appeared to be deep in thought. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “What do workers gain from their toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set ignorance in the human heart; so that no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end,” he said.

“Ecclesiastes,” Ben replied. “But what do you mean by it?”

“Ben, don’t you see that there might be mysteries that are not intended to be known to man? That God has intended for some things to be taken on faith? That your natural philosophy both cannot, and I dare say should not, attempt to provide a proof for everything under the Sun? That by attempting to do so, by requiring proof for everything, you denigrate God and His power?”

“No, I don’t see it that way at all, Reverend,” Ben said. “I believe that God would want mankind to discover the intricate workings of the universe that He has created for us to live in. I believe that He has designed us to be probing, intelligent beings; designed us to yearn to discover and elucidate the hidden workings of the universe—not designed us as sheep, blindly following established doctrine.”

The Reverend looked as if he might object but said nothing.

Ben went on. “Take your own situation as an example. You do not believe that the Anglican Church is right in backing the British in this conflict over our freedom, correct?”

The Reverend squirmed in his seat. “Aye.”

“And the Church would say that you should accept their decision blindly, that it is God’s will, correct?”

“Aye.”

“But you do not see it that way. You have seen the injustices inflicted by the British on our people. You have thought independently and asked yourself why God would want things this way. The answer we agree upon is that God would want our people to be free. It is the Church that has a different goal, the Church that has a need to maintain the status quo. Your Anglican Church claims to know the will of God in this matter . . . but do they? Once you start asking questions, as you have, once you start demanding proof of things, as I do—then you will ultimately find the correct answer: that the will of God and the will of the Church may not be one and the same.”

“Yes, I see your point,” the Reverend replied, “but what of God’s true will? Would it not be one of the mysteries that cannot be proven? Isn’t God’s will ultimately something that must be taken on faith?”

Ben didn’t have an answer to his question, but during the time they had talked, the storm had abated enough that his appetite returned.

“Reverend, what say we see what the cook has prepared for breakfast?”

“Nay, I’m not yet ready to eat, sir. I’ll sit out here a bit longer, contemplating what the Lord may have in store for me.”

Ben bid the Reverend good day and headed for the galley.

Steve Gnatz

Author Bio:

Steve Gnatz is a writer, physician, bicyclist, photographer, traveler, and aspiring ukulele player. The son of a history professor and a nurse, it seems that both medicine and history are in his blood. Writing historical fiction came naturally. An undergraduate degree in biology was complemented by a minor in classics. After completing medical school, he embarked on an academic medical career specializing in Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation. There was little time for writing during those years, other than research papers and a technical primer on electromyography. Now retired from the practice of medicine, he devotes himself to the craft of fiction. The history of science is of particular interest, but also the dynamics of human relationships. People want to be good scientists, but sometimes human nature gets in the way. That makes for interesting stories. When not writing or traveling, he enjoys restoring Italian racing bicycles at home in Chicago with his wife and daughters.

Connect with Steve Gnatz:

• Website ✔ Blog ✔ Facebook ✔ BookBub ✔ Amazon Author Page ✔ Goodreads ✔

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[Blog Tour] 'The Queen of the Citadels' (The King’s Germans, Book 3) By Dominic Fielder #HistoricalFiction

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The Book:

The Queen of the Citadels
(The King’s Germans, Book 3)
By Dominic Fielder

• Publication Date: 26th August 2021
• Publisher: Independently Published
• Page Length: 550 Pages
• Genre: Historical Military Fiction

The Blurb:

October 1793: The French border.

Dunkirk was a disaster for the Duke of York’s army. The French, sensing victory before the winter, launch attacks along the length of the border. Menen is captured and the French now hold the whip hand. Nieuport and Ostend are threatened, and Sebastian Krombach finds himself involved in a desperate plan to stop the Black Lions as they spearhead the French advance. Werner Brandt and the men of 2nd Battalion race to Menen to counterattack and rescue Erich von Bomm and the Grenadiers, whilst von Bomm struggles to save himself from his infatuation with a mysterious French vivandière.

Meanwhile, dark and brooding, the citadel of Lille dominates the border. The Queen of the Citadels has never been captured by force. The allies must now keep Menen, which guards Flanders, and seize Lille to open the road to Paris. All of this must be done under the watchful eyes of a spy in the Austrian camp. Juliette of Marboré is fighting her own secret war to free Julian Beauvais, languishing in the Conciergerie prison, and waiting for his appointment with the guillotine, as the Terror rages in Paris.

• Buy Links: Available on Kindle Unlimited ✔ Amazon UK ✔ Amazon US ✔ Amazon CA ✔ Amazon AU ✔ 

The Queen of the Citadels - Book Cover

 'The Queen of the Citadels' - Excerpt:

Paris: 20th December 1793

“I once said that what matters most is ‘Liberté, égalité, fraternité’. That is what should be written on our flags, into the very fabric of our uniforms. Well, I was wrong. Do you know what matter most at this very moment? What the people truly need?” Maximillian Robespierre turned around to face his audience. A dozen men focused on the pointed finger of Robespierre as he moved from face to face. The question was rhetorical. Carnot was amongst those who listened. Genet sat at the back of the room and watched the most powerful Jacobin ministers spellbound by his master’s voice.

Robespierre held the room at the point of his finger, and then whispered a solitary word,” Fear!”

His audience nodded understandingly, to Robespierre and then to one another as though the pronouncement had been handed down from on high.

“The past few months have been called ‘the Terror’, by some in this room and by our enemies. That’s true enough but until the revolution is secured so that we may hand back to the people what we have won on their behalf, there must be ‘Terror’. It must continue! It is the language that the people understand, and it is the most effective way of preventing failure!”

Robespierre was working the room; Genet had felt the electricity of his master’s words before but never like this. Maximillian Robespierre was a force of nature.

“The Bourbons had four hundred years to stake their claim to the throne. They did not rule by kindness, and they never once ruled for the good of the people. We rule in the name of the people but like any good father we must show discipline now….” The voice once raised to a crescendo had died away to a whisper again…”so that when France grows from the child like state in which the Bourbons kept it, into a strong and noble prince amongst nations, the people will know truly know the price of ‘Liberté, égalité, fraternité’ and will never again question the price of defending such a privilege!”

The room stood as one and applauded, a dozen pairs of hands reached out to shake his. Genet noticed the signal, no more than a nod in his direction. Robespierre waved the men down and motioned for quiet.

“To that end, we must continue to make examples of those who fail to protect the republic. These papers call for the arrest of the commanders of the armies of the North and the Rhine. We have reports from trusted officers as to the ineffective methods and lack of conviction in Generals Jourdan and Hoche. The people shall decide their fate. Any general now condemned to death will be executed in front of his own men. The army must understand Terror too and know that the punishment of a loving father is worse than the fiercest cannonade of the enemy! Who will countersign these orders?”

There it was: the lie hidden in the barrage of hyperbole. France had failed to secure victories on her borders. The generals would not turn on themselves, Genet knew that, but they had to fear that such an outcome might arise. It had been Genet’s brainchild and Robespierre had clapped his hands with glee the moment that the scheme was laid before him.

It was the soldiers who were always the problem. Come the spring, the army would do the bidding of Maximillian Robespierre. And Serge Genet would make such a wish a reality.

Wissembourg: 31st December 1793

“You came from Paris to deliver this and arrest the General?”

Pale grey eyes surveyed Maurice Caillat, not out of fear, reproach, or pity. Perhaps instead they searched for understanding. After all, it cannot have been a usual occurrence to receive notification of a fellow general’s arrest; orders to provide evidence against that same officer; and a promotion to command the Army of the North as a most obvious bribe.

But that was what Jean-Charles Pichegru was being asked to contemplate. His hand ruffled shoulder length hair where steel grey was beginning to outstrip black, despite the general only being two years past his thirtieth birthday.

“Somebody has sent you on a fool’s errand, Monsieur. I will accept the promotion, but I will not indict General Hoche.

“But I have been told to…”

Pichegru held up a hand, “Monsieur?”

“Caillat, Maurice Caillat, Representat…”

“Yes, yes, I know your rank. Monsieur Caillat, Maurice, remove that raincoat, pour yourself a glass of wine and take a seat by the fire. Words seem so less intimidating when there is at least a degree of civility.”

However, Maurice Caillat had imagined this interview to progress, drinks with his quarry had not been a possible scenario. And the more questionable the purpose, the more Caillat doubted in his own ability to resolve matters to Genet’s satisfaction. This trip was only serving to underline that point.

Caillat took his seat as ordered, and the two men faced one another, fierce yellows of the fire casting long shadows across the peasant cottage that Pichegru had taken for his quarters.

“Pray, continue…you were saying that you had been told to?”

“Err, yes, General, I have been instructed to tell…”

“Not General… too formal… I am Jean, and you will be Maurice, is that agreeable? Good…this wine is rather agreeable too, isn’t it?”

Maurice Caillat was at a loss as to what to say. The fire was warm; the chair comfortable, far better than the carriage that he had spent ten days travelling in; and the wine was rather good. Threatening a man who had shown such hospitality to a stranger seemed, frankly, to be both absurd and ungrateful. Caillat’s mouth open and closed; thoughts formed but no words came out.

“Maurice, I shall save you the trouble. I have been rather rude. I am, as you may well be aware, the president of one of the most powerful Jacobin clubs in Paris. I knew of your orders and the arrest of Lazare Hoche, three days before your arrival. Oh, they will make a fuss over Hoche, of course. But he is a capable soldier. I haven’t always agreed with his methods, but nothing would compel me to sign that death warrant that you were sent with. And make no mistake, that is the purpose of the message that you were delivering from your friends in Paris.”

“I have no friends in Paris, General.”

Caillat had not meant the words to come out, but they had escaped and there was no taking them back.

Pichegru tutted heavily.

“Now Maurice, you are not playing the game. Around my fireside, I am Jean and nothing more formal than that.”

Caillat gazed into his dark silhouette dancing on the red surface of the glass.

“I am supposed to be representing the authority of Paris: the might and the Terror.”

“Paris should not be about might and terror. We are Frenchmen, born of the same soil. We should be able to resolve our disagreements more cordially, do you not think?” For a moment there had been iron and anger in the words but in an instant, they were gone and the warm, near mesmeric voice of Pichegru had returned. “Now tell me of yourself and of Paris.”

Caillat told the General of his life before the revolution and after, in part because he wanted to, and because he felt that Pichegru already knew the answers. Maurice Caillat had been an investigator for the Marquis de Beurnonville, once Minister of War, now a captive of the Austrians, following the treachery of Dumouriez. He even recounted the events in Dunkirk and the matters involving Julian Beauvais, whose release had lifted a very real threat to his life.

Pichegru had listened, nodded but asked for no additional detail, save one.

“Wattignies, are you certain about Wattignies, Maurice?”

“Yes, Gener…err… Yes, Jean I am, why?”

“Let me tell you one or two things, Maurice. Firstly, no man can hope to live in Paris, as things stand, without friends. You will leave here tomorrow at first light, with an introduction to my club. They are expecting you. Secondly, you do not question why I should want to accept the death sentence that has become command of the Army of the North.”

Caillat mouthed to ask but Pichegru held up his hand.

“What Hoche and I accomplished here, beating the Austrians, Prussians, Brunswickers was done with a third of the resources that are in the north. Jourdan is a good man, as far as I can tell. He does not deserve this spectacle of a trial. You want to know what I’m going to do with the Army of the North? I’m going to liberate Flanders and throw the Austrians back over the Rhine and chase the British into the North Sea. Now go and find one of my orderlies, they will find a bed for you. I have reports to prepare which you will take to Paris. And consider my advice. A man needs friends. If the people who sent you on this fool’s errand do not change then…”

Pichegru drained his glass, eased his tired body from the chair, and motioned towards the door. “Goodnight, Monsieur Caillat, it has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Dominic Fielder

Author Bio:

Dominic Fielder has had careers in retail and the private education sector and is currently working as a secondary school Maths teacher. He has a First-class honours degree in history and a lifetime’s interest in the hobby of wargaming. The King's Germans series is a project that grew out of this passion He currently juggles writing and research around a crowded work and family life.

Whilst self-published he is very grateful for an excellent support team. The Black Lions of Flanders (set in 1793) is the first in the King's Germans' series, which will follow an array of characters through to the final book in Waterloo. He lives just outside of Tavistock on the edge of Dartmoor. where he enjoys walking on the moors and the occasional horse-riding excursion as both writing inspiration and relaxation.

Connect with Dominic Fielder:

• Twitter ✔ Facebook:✔ Instagram ✔:Amazon Author Page ✔ Goodreads ✔

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French-Corsican DJ Alexis Petronio Releases First Single "Strange" Featuring Keith With A Hopeful Post-Pandemic Message [Music Video Included]

French-Corsican DJ Alexis Petronio Releases First Single "Strange" Featuring Keith With A Hopeful Post-Pandemic Message

DJ Alexis Petronio has collaborated with guitarist and singer Keith to release his debut single, "Strange," a guitar-tinged summer anthem with a human hopeful post-pandemic message.

Alexis was inspired to write and produce the new track as COVID restrictions ease and people reconnect with each other. "The pandemic was tragic in many ways," says Alexis, "but it reminded us how important feelings of freedom and connection with other people really are."

The Singer and guitarist Keith, who features on the song, agrees: "Both Alexis and I believe that every cloud has a silver lining. 'Strange' is about embracing the opportunity for rebirth and becoming aware of the significance of our connection with people and nature in an increasingly digital new world."

DJ Alexis Petronio and Keith

"Strange" features blues, soul, and Andalusian influences with the help of Keith's vocal and guitar, backed by Callaghan's saxophone and set against the irresistibly festive electropop production from Alexis.

"Strange" - The Music Video:

Alexis Petronio is an independent DJ and a member of the "The French Production" collective from Porto Vecchio in Corsica. He has played every summer for the last 10 years at Via Notte and at B52 with the world's biggest DJs, including David Guetta, Solomun, DJ Snake, Roger Sanchez, and Little Louie Vega. His winter appearances include Paris, Abidjan, and Tulum.

Beach Music

Connect with Alexis Petronio:

• Website ✔ Twitter ✔ Instagram ✔ 

SOURCE: La French Production

[Blog Tour] 'The Shadows of Versailles' (An Affair of the Poisons, Book One) By Cathie Dunn #HistoricalFiction #HistoricalMystery

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The Book:

The Shadows of Versailles
(An Affair of the Poisons Book One)
By Cathie Dunn

• Publication Date: November 20th, 2020
• Publisher: Ocelot Press
• Page Length: 251 (ebook) / 277 (pb)
• Genre: historical fiction / mystery

The Blurb:

Dazzled by Versailles. Broken by tragedy. Consumed by revenge.

When Fleur de La Fontaine attends the court of King Louis XIV for the first time, she is soon besotted with handsome courtier, Philippe de Mortain. She dreams of married life away from her uncaring mother, but Philippe keeps a secret from her.

Nine months later, after the boy she has given birth to in a convent is whisked away, she flees to Paris where she mends gowns in the brothel of Madame Claudette, a woman who helps ‘fallen’ girls back on their feet.

Jacques de Montagnac investigates a spate of abducted children when his path crosses Fleur’s. He searches for her son, but the trail leads to a dead end – and a dreadful realisation.

Her boy’s suspected fate too much to bear, Fleur decides to avenge him. She visits the famous midwife, La Voisin, but it’s not the woman’s skills in childbirth that Fleur seeks.

La Voisin dabbles in poisons.

Will Fleur see her plan through? Or can she save herself from a tragic fate?

Delve into The Shadows of Versailles and enter the sinister world of potions, poisoners and black masses during the Affairs of the Poisons, a real event that stunned the court of the Sun King!

• Buy Links: Universal Link ✔ Amazon UK ✔ Amazon US ✔ Amazon CA ✔ Amazon AU ✔

Shadows of Versailles - Front Cover

 'The Shadows of Versailles' - Excerpt:

(From Chapter Two:)
Châtelet, Paris

Jacques de Montagnac approached the gate of the Grand Châtelet. The stench of blood and carcasses from the streets lingered in the air, even though it was late evening. The lack of street lighting, recently introduced in the finer quarters of Paris, made walking through the streets around the headquarters of the new police force treacherous. He didn’t want to leave a trace on his worn leather boots of where he had been.

His hood drawn deep over his face, he looked around but found no proof of anyone following him. He slipped through the gateway that let into an inner courtyard. Cries and moans from prisoners locked up in the many oubliettes reached him. The poor devils. Jacques had seen the maze of small cells, and they weren’t a pretty sight. Many a man never left them alive.

Taking a deep breath, which he regretted instantly, he turned to the far side, towards the door to the offices of the Lieutenant General of the police, Gabriel Nicolas de La Reynie. This wasn’t Jacques’ first visit. In fact, he’d long lost count of the number of times he reported back to his superior. Ever since he’d joined La Reynie’s extensive spy network five years earlier.

He’d been so naïve! Aged nineteen, and with a confidence far exceeding his diminished funds, he’d presented himself to the Lieutenant General. Jacques grinned as he climbed the stairs two at a time. On La Reynie’s request, he’d had to prove himself by blending into the underworld of Paris. But he’d had to work hard for it.

“Good evening,” a fellow officer greeted him in passing. “He’s awaiting your company.”

Jacques nodded. Eventually, outside de la Reynie’s office, he pulled back his hood and straightened.

At his knock on the door, he heard the gruff voice of his superior. “Come in!”

Around him, the corridor was deserted. Still, it was worth to check. His life depended on secrecy. He slipped inside the office and lowered his head. “Lieutenant General.”

“Jacques, please sit.” La Reynie never wasted time with polite conversation so beloved by the nobility.

Jacques sat as bid and waited until his superior had placed a note into a file, then moved it to a shelf behind him.

“I’ve not seen you in over a week. Has something happened?”

The man’s sharp eyes met his. Nothing seemed to escape him.

“Yes, sir.” Jacques leaned forward, placing his elbows on his legs. “There is trouble brewing.”

La Reynie laughed. “There always is. Tell me something new!”

Jacques remained serious. “Some of the charlatans are getting devious. There has been a rise in abductions of infants.”

The Lieutenant General leaned back in his seat and folded his hands in his lap. “I’ve learned about the disappearance of several babies. Continue.”

“They are alive when they’re taken, sir. Many women in the quartiers around the former Court of Miracles worry about this. I’ve spoken to six new mothers who were told their baby had been stillborn, yet they could hear a child’s whimper when the midwives took them away.”

“Is it one particular midwife, or do they work hand in hand?”

“Oh, most definitely more than one. I have no names as yet, but I’ll get them for you.”

“Thank you. Do you think it is intentional? They deceive the mothers, removing their children against their will?”

Jacques nodded. “Yes. The men in charge of the thieves and cutpurses brush off any questions about it. I believe they have a hand in it, or at least know who does.”

La Reynie stood and walked to the window overlooking the River Seine. “We have problems finding out the truth from that quartier. You’re one of the few men on the inside, and I'm aware of the danger you put yourself into every day is real.” He turned to face Jacques, his mouth in a thin line. “We lost Etienne two weeks ago. I have no idea what gave him away.”

Jacques nodded faintly. “Ah. I’d been wondering if something had happened to him.”

“His body floated in the Seine,” La Reynie said drily. “My men fished him out last Sunday morning. His throat was cut.”

Jacques hung his head. “I’m sorry, sir.” He hadn’t particularly liked Etienne, but the man had been a comforting presence in the den of cut-throats, thieves and scheming alchemists. It confirmed his suspicion that he must look over his shoulder all the time.

“Do you know what he was working on last?”

“Not in detail.” Jacques shook his head, meeting his superior’s gaze. “When I last spoke to him, he said he’d uncovered something linked to black masses. But he didn’t share his findings with me.”

“But you think the black masses are linked to the missing children?”

“It makes sense. But it has to be a fairly important person to demand such a risky sacrifice. I’d imagine a high price.”

“Like courtiers.”

Jacques nodded. “Yes.”

“But no names came up?”

“No. I’ve heard of several persons having visited herbalists, or whatever they like to call themselves, but they’re very secretive, often sending servants in their place. That reminds me, how goes the search for the Marquise de Brinvilliers? Rumour has it she is in the Spanish Netherlands.”

A sly smile played on La Reynie’s lips. “She might be. Or in England. We are on her trail, although she tries to trick us by moving around various nunneries.”

“The news should send some people in the quartiers scurrying into their dens,” Jacques mused.

“And that’s why you, Jacques, are best placed to discover who these rats are that are going into hiding.”

Jacques didn’t like the smug look on La Reynie’s face, his thin smile and challenging glance. Everything the Lieutenant General did served a purpose. He did not waste time. “What would you like me to do?”

“There is a specific priest Desgrez has been watching, but he might be aware of it. Abbé Guibourg. There is something about him, but we have no proof of wrongdoing so far. Here is the address.” La Reynie handed Jacques a note, and he slid it into his inner coat pocket. “Keep your ears open to any gossip!”

“I shall. And what about the stolen babies?”

“Yes, keep digging. I want to discover who organises those black masses – and who attends them. People would pay a lot of money for them.” De la Reynie returned to his seat and leaned forward, elbows on his large desk. “Who knows – these incidences are likely linked.”

“That’s what I think, sir. Is that all?”

“It is, for today. Report back to me by next Monday if you can.” The Lieutenant General gave him a sharp nod, then picked up a file on his right.

Jacques stood and took his leave. As he opened the door, La Reynie said, “And Jacques?”

He turned, pulling his hood up. “Sir?”

“Be careful!”

Cathie Dunn

Author Bio:

Cathie Dunn writes historical fiction, mystery, and romance.

Cathie has been writing for over twenty years. She studied Creative Writing, with a focus on novel writing, which she now teaches in the south of France. She loves researching for her novels, delving into history books, and visiting castles and historic sites.

Her stories have garnered awards and praise from reviewers and readers for their authentic description of the past.

Cathie is a member of the Historical Novel Society and the Alliance of Independent Authors.

After nearly two decades in Scotland, she now lives in the historic city of Carcassonne in the south of France with her husband, two cats and a rescue dog.

Connect with Cathie Dunn:

Website ✔ Twitter ✔ Facebook ✔ Instagram ✔ Pinterest ✔
BookBub ✔ Amazon Author Page ✔ Goodreads ✔

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[Blog Tour] 'Beneath Black Clouds and White' By Virginia Crow #HistoricalFiction

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The Book:

Beneath Black Clouds and White 

By Virginia Crow

• Publication Date: 11th April 2019
• Publisher: Crowvus
• Print Length: 637 Pages
• Genre: Historical Fiction/Military Fiction/Family Saga

The Blurb:

Despite adoring his family and enjoying frequenting gaming tables, Captain Josiah Tenterchilt’s true love is the British Army and he is committed to his duty. As such, he does not hesitate to answer the army’s call when King Louis XVI of France is executed.

Accompanied by his wife to Flanders, Josiah finds his path crosses with a man who could not be more different from him: an apprentice surgeon named Henry Fotherby. As these two men pursue their own actions, fate and the careful connivance of a mysterious individual will push them together for the rest of their lives.

But it is a tumultuous time, and the French revolutionaries are not the only ones who pose a threat. The two gentlemen must find their place in a world where the constraints of social class are inescapable, and ‘slavery or abolition’ are the words on everyone’s lips.

• Beneath Black Clouds and White is the prequel to Day's Dying Glory, which was published by Crowvus in April 2017.

'Beneath Black Clouds and White' By Virginia Crow - Front Cover

Beneath Black Clouds and White - Excerpt:

Major Tenterchilt nodded and walked into his study and, pulling open the top drawer, he looked down at the pistol that rested there. He lifted it up and studied it with a fascination but set it down quickly as the door opened and his wife walked in.

“Good lord, Josiah! What are you doing with that?”

“Sparing you from terrible news.”

“Surely you mean robbing me,” she continued, her usual measured approach returning to her tone. “Robbing me of an explanation.”

“Robbing you of your inheritance, my dear.”

“Major Tenterchilt,” she began, pushing the pistol beyond his reach and kneeling down beside where he sat on the chair. “You have claimed all that was mine since that day we met. Do you recall it? Meeting on the roadside. I still wonder what made me talk to you. It was most out of character.”

“You would have been better if you had not done.”

“What has happened?” she asked fearfully. “For I cannot imagine life without you.”

“You were wearing a yellow gown and wide brimmed bonnet,” he whispered, smiling sadly across at her. “I was more nervous than I had ever been in my life.”

“Thomas was horrified,” she replied as she leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “For a lady to talk to a soldier without introduction? It was unheard of. But I knew. I knew even then.”

“And you shared all that you had with me, and I have lost it.”

“Lost it?” she whispered as she leaned away from him and stared hard at his guilty face. “What have you lost?”

“Our home, my dear. I have lost it all to a man who, I am certain, sat at the table with the sole intention of humiliating me.”

“You gambled Chanter’s House?” she hissed, rising to her feet. “How could you?”

“And the estate. I had a certainty of winning,” he responded as he dropped his head into his hands. “I could not lose.”

“And yet you did.”

“Every day for the past fifteen years I have thanked God that your carriage wheel splintered. Until now. This night I lament it.” He reached across the table and picked up the pistol. “As you can see, my dear, it would have been better if you had left the door unopened and me with this.”

Mrs Tenterchilt stared at her husband, willing herself to hate him for taking this house and the land that had been her only gift from the mother she had lost so many years ago. But, as she watched him lift the pistol, she tried to imagine her life without him and she felt an emptiness seize her. She snatched the gun from him and threw it across the room.

“I cannot believe that you have lost the house and estate, and I cannot bear to consider what is to become of us and our daughters. But nor can I bear to face it alone. Do not leave me, Major Tenterchilt, for I do not think I shall survive without you.”

Rising to his feet, Major Tenterchilt embraced his wife, trying to find the strength to support her but feeling that, in truth, she was by far the stronger half of the couple. For her own part, she needed her husband and loved him far more than she could admit at this moment.

The following day Mrs Tenterchilt rose early and ensured that she had time to discuss matters with her husband before he departed for Horse Guards. She sat at the dressing table and watched his reflection as he came to stand behind her.

“I shall visit Mr Dermot today,” she said flatly. “He will be able to advise us on what is the correct course of action.”

“Thank you, my dear.” He leaned forward and kissed her hair.

“There is something more, Josiah,” she said sternly, turning to face him. “I cannot bear that this might ever be repeated. Therefore, you must make me a promise.”

“What is it?”

“I will not tolerate gambling of any kind. For I have lost greatly to it and gained so little. And know this,” she added, steeling herself to speak the words that she had tried to contrive through the sleepless hours. “If you should fail in this promise, I shall take our daughters and begin a new life for us, for I shall not have you lose all that is theirs as well as my own.”

Major Tenterchilt stared down at her, his face becoming hard and stern.

“I mean it, Josiah,” she continued. “I will not compromise my children for a roll of a dice or a turn of a card.”

• Buy Links: Amazon UK • Amazon US • Smashwords • Kobo • Barnes and Noble

Virginia Crow

Author Bio:

Virginia Crow grew up in Orkney, using the breath-taking scenery to fuel her imagination and the writing fire within her. Her favourite genres to write are fantasy and historical fiction, sometimes mixing the two together such as her newly-published book "Caledon". She enjoys swashbuckling stories such as the Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas and is still waiting for a screen adaption that lives up to the book! When she's not writing, Virginia is usually to be found teaching music, and obtained her MLitt in "History of the Highlands and Islands" last year. She believes wholeheartedly in the power of music, especially as a tool of inspiration. She also helps out with the John O'Groats Book Festival which is celebrating its 3rd year this April. She now lives in the far flung corner of Scotland, soaking in inspiration from the rugged cliffs and miles of sandy beaches. She loves cheese, music and films, but hates mushrooms. 

• Connect with Virginia:  Website • Twitter • Facebook • Instagram • Publisher

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MHz Networks Announces Premiere Dates for International Emmy Award Winning Series ‘Spiral’ ('Engrenages') Seasons 7 & 8

MHz Networks Announces Premiere Dates for International Emmy Award Winning Series ‘Spiral’ ('Engrenages') Seasons 7 & 8 (image via MHz Networks)

MHz Networks announces its premiere dates for the final two seasons of the French television police procedural and legal drama, Spiral. 

• The first two of twelve episodes of the penultimate Season 7 will premiere on November 17 on MHz Choice, followed by a weekly release of two episodes. 
• Spiral: Season 8 will premiere on January 5, 2021 and will follow the same release format.

Created by Alexandra Clert and Guy-Patrick Sainderichin and originally released in France in 2005 as Engrenages, Spiral became a sensation across Europe and Australia, winning awards and commendations from TV France and The Royal Television Society in the UK, among others, and won the International Emmy Award for Best Drama Series. 

The series features an all-star cast including Audrey Fleurot (A French Village) as attorney Joséphine Karlsson, who often finds herself at odds with Police Captain Laure Berthaud, played by Caroline Proust (The Tunnel), and Police Lieutenant Gilou Escoffier, played by Thierry Godard (A French Village, The Chalet).

Caroline Proust (Laure Berthaud) in Spiral Season 7 on MHz Choice.

"Spiral has been part of the MHz Choice DNA since our creation so it will be a bittersweet event for us when the series comes to an end," said MHz Networks president and CEO Frederick Thomas. "It's remarkable how large of a fan base Spiral has garnered throughout the years. Our audience will not be disappointed with these final two seasons."

Thierry Godard (Gilou Escoffier) and Caroline Proust (Laure Berthaud) in Spiral Season 7 on MHz Choice.

More About 'Spiral':

(Via Wikipedia)

Spiral is a French television police procedural and legal drama series following the work and the private lives of Paris police officers and lawyers and judges at the Palais de Justice, Paris.

• The first series of eight episodes started broadcast on Canal+ in France in December 2005. The series was shown in the UK on BBC Four during the summer of 2006. It was the channel's first French-language drama series, attracting a modest but loyal audience (around 200,000) and firm critical approval.
• The second series, also with eight episodes, was broadcast in France starting in May 2008, and in the UK on BBC Four starting in September 2009.
• The third series consisted of 12 episodes and was shown from April 2011.
• The fourth series was broadcast in February 2013.
• The fifth series was broadcast in France in late 2014 and in the UK on BBC Four from January 2015. 
• The sixth series was broadcast in 2017.
• The seventh series was broadcast in France in February 2019.

[....]

The original French title is Engrenages. This word carries various meanings in French. Although it literally translates as either "gears" or "gearing", it is also used in various idioms and the official translation of the title picks up the phrase "a spiral of violence" (engrenage de violence), though it also carries overtones of "getting caught up in the works" (mettre un doigt dans l'engrenage), "getting some grit in the works" (un grain de sable dans l'engrenage) and even "the cycle of drug abuse" (l'engrenage de la drogue), or "gearing" in the sense of "intensification".

(Click here to read more...)

Caroline Proust (Laure Berthaud) in Spiral Season 7 on MHz Choice.

• In addition to Spiral: Season 7, MHz Networks will also premiere new seasons of audience favorites Magellan and Murder In…, as well as the two-part police thriller The Informer.

About MHz Networks:

MHz Networks offers viewers access to a library of the best television mysteries, dramas, comedies and documentaries subtitled in English through its subscription streaming service, MHz Choice. Select MHz Networks content is also available on DVD and on its free ad-supported service MHz Now available on Samsung TV Plus.

• New MHz Choice customers receive a free 7-Day Trial. For more information, go to mhzchoice.com.

SOURCE: MHz Networks

Related Story:

• MHz Networks Announces The Release Of 'Spiral' ('Engrenages') Season 6

Knights Templar: Still Loved By Conspiracy Theorists 900 Years On

Conny Skogberg via Shutterstock 

On Christmas Day, 1119, the king of Jerusalem, Baldwin II persuaded a group of French knights led by Hugh de Payne II to save their souls by protecting pilgrims travelling the Holy Land. And so the Order of the Knights Templar was formed.

This revolutionary order of knights lived as monks and took vows of poverty and chastity, but these were monks with a difference – they would take up arms as knights to protect the civilians using the dangerous roads of the newly conquered Kingdom of Jerusalem. From these humble beginnings, the order would grow to become one of the premier Christian military forces of the Crusades.

Over the next 900 years, these warrior monks would become associated with the Holy Grail, the Freemasons and the occult. But are any of these associations true, or are they just baseless myth?

The Crusades ended in 1291 after the Christian capital of Acre fell to the Mameluke forces of Egypt and the Templars found themselves redundant. Despite their wealth and European holdings, their reason for existence had been to wage war in defence of the Holy Land.

But the French king Philip IV was in debt to the Templar order and, with the Holy land lost, he capitalised on their vulnerability and had the Templars arrested in France on Friday October 13, 1307 in a dawn raid on their Paris Temple and residences. In 1312, the order was abolished by papal decree and in 1314 the last grand-master, Jacque de Molay, was burned at the stake in Paris with three other Templars. With the order destroyed, any surviving former members joined other orders or monasteries. 

Execution of Jacques de Molay in Paris, March 1314. Giovanni Villani, Nuova Cronica - ms. Chigiano L VIII 296 - Biblioteca Vaticana

Despite the arrests and charges of heresy being laid against the order, a document known as the Chinon Parchment was found in 2001 in the Vatican’s archives which documents that the Templars were, in fact, exonerated by the Catholic Church in 1312. But, despite clearing them of heresy, Pope Clement ordered that they be disbanded. 

Appropriation of a legend

The suppression of the Templars meant that there was nobody to safeguard their legacy. Since then, the order has been appropriated by other organisations – most notably as ancestors to the Masonic order in the 18th century and, more recently, by right-wing extremist groups such as the Knights Templar-UK and mass-murdering terrorist Anders Behring Breivik.

The Knights Templar’s association with Freemasonry is not so much a myth as it was a marketing campaign by 18th-century Freemasons to appeal to the aristocracy. Historian Frank Sanello explained in his 2003 book, The Knights Templars: God’s Warriors, the Devil’s Bankers, that initially it was Andrew Ramsey, a senior French Freemason of the era, who first made the link between the Freemasons and the Crusader knights.

But he originally claimed the Freemasons were descended from the crusading Order of the Knight Hospitaller. Of course, the Hospitallers were still operational, unlike the Knight Templar, so Ramsey quickly changed his claim to the Templars being the Freemasons’ crusading ancestry.

The Knights Templar had actually been mythologised in popular culture as early as the 13th century in the Grail epic Parzival by German knight and poet Wolfram von Eschenbach. In this Grail epic, the Knights Templar were included in the story as the guardians of the Grail. After the order’s sudden fall, these warrior monks became associated with conspiracies and the occult.

For some, a mystery still surrounds the fate of the Templar fortune (which was in reality seized by Phillip IV, with the majority of their property redistributed to the Hospitallers) and the Templar confessions (extracted under torture) to worshipping an idol dubbed Baphomet. The link between the Templars and the occult would resurface again in the 16th century in Henry Agrippa’s book De Occulta Philosophia.

Modern-day myth

Modern fiction continues to draw upon the widespread mysteries and fanciful theories. These mythical associations are key themes for many popular works of fiction, such as Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code in which the Templars guard the Grail. The Templar myth has also found its way into the digital gaming format in the globally successful Assassin’s Creed franchise, in which the player must assassinate a villainous Templar.

Nine centuries after they were formed, the Templars remain the most iconic and infamous order of knights from the Crusades. The Templar legacy has grown beyond their medieval military role and the name has become synonymous with the occult, conspiracies, the Holy Grail and the Freemasons. But these are all false narratives – fantastical, but misleading.

The real legacy of the Templars remains with the Portuguese Order of Knights, Ordem dos Cavaleiros de Nosso Senhor Jesus Cristo (Order of the Knights of Jesus Christ). This order was created by King Diniz in 1319 with Papal permission due to the prominent role the Templars played in establishing the kingdom of Portugal. The new knighthood even moved into the Templars’ former headquarters at Tomar.

For historian Micheal Haag, this new order “was the Templars under another name” – but it pledged obedience to the king of Portugal and not the Pope like their Templar predecessors.

And so the essence of the Templar’s successors still exists today as a Portuguese order of merit for outstanding service – and the Templar myth continues to provide a rich source of inspiration for artistic endeavours.

About Today's Contributor:

Patrick Masters, Lecturer in Film Studies, University of Portsmouth

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license.