The Great History of the Manor Bouchove Part 3: La Licorne and the Labyrinth

By Pith Schure

Having lived in a house the villagers of Bouchove sweetly call châtelet, I realised I have enjoyed a privileged life. This is also true for the place of my birth, Maastricht--the most beautiful town of the world, I shamelessly claim. I have grown up there in a good family with ten children. Eighteen years old, I started my study on Rural Development in Wageningen, which is the smallest university town of the Netherlands.

There, I had the luck to find my lifetime wife, who followed me to all the places in the world my ambitions reached for. She gave birth to our two daughters and a son--three children we raised together and who developed along different lines into worthy individuals.

Looking back on all this, I praise my luck and thank the Lord for it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: May 31, 2019
• ISBN: 9781528956178

Pith Schure

The author was born in Maastricht, Netherlands, before WW2. After secondary school, he moved to Wageningen to study at the Wageningen Agricultural University. That laid the basis for working in two dozen countries all over the world in the company of his wife, who gave him two girls and a boy. In 1968, he purchased a châtelet in the village of Bokhoven, that inspired him to take up local history, laying the basis for this historical novel. He stopped working in 2009 and sold the châtelet to move with his wife to a penthouse.

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About the Author

Born in the most beautiful town of the world, Maastricht, the author moved at age 18 to Wageningen to study rural development. In the company of his all-time wife, Mieke, he worked in two dozen – mostly tropical – countries all over the world. They have two girls and a son. Abroad, he worked on land and water use and improvement, the building of farmhouses, institutional development and project performance evaluation till into his seventies. While on his home base, he undertook to restore a chatelet. As from his sixties, he dug up the history of the noblesse in Europe, having been the masters of the chatelet and surrounding lands, and wrote the trilogy The Great History of the Manor Bouchove about it.

About the Book

Having lived in a house the villagers of Bouchove sweetly call châtelet, I realised I have enjoyed a privileged life. This is also true for the place of my birth, Maastricht—the most beautiful town of the world, I shamelessly claim. I have grown up there in a good family with ten children. Eighteen years old, I started my study on Rural Development in Wageningen, which is the smallest university town of the Netherlands.

There, I had the luck to find my lifetime wife, who followed me to all the places in the world my ambitions reached for. She gave birth to our two daughters and a son—three children we raised together and who developed along different lines into worthy individuals.

Looking back on all this, I praise my luck and thank the Lord for it.

Dedication

To my sole love and our children.

Copyright Information

Copyright © Pith Schure (2019)

The right of Pith Schure to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781788788151 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781528956178 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2019)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5LQ

Acknowledgement

With great thanks to AM Publishers’ Ms Janine and Mr Neal for their attentive guidance and speeding up of my publications.

Chapter 1

Hidden Gold

Bouchove, Sunday, July 14, 1850

Lord, thank you for these gifts. Pleased, Joannes looks at the well-dressed table. It had been the old lady Lalicorne who had invited him to join them for breakfast in De Toorn. A thoughtful gesture after the moving events of this morning. After all, everyone here at the table is part of the plot that has just been brought to a good end. She is now absent-minded in contrast to the other tablemates, but the young Madame Lalicorne is caring well for her; so, much is clear. The youth behaves unobtrusively, as always. Apparently, the Steward himself is currently pondering about something.

They are the very words you spoke an hour ago, Honourable. My thanks and compliments for this applicable prayer.

It’s my job to occasionally distract the attention from earthly matters to above. As he pronounces this, the Pastor heaves his eyes spiritually up to heaven.

How practical to remind us? Us laymen cannot listen to your wise advice often enough, which does not take away that the people will talk about the incident.

The more, the better!

Whilst the adults listen politely to the exchange between the Pastor and the Steward, the youth is talking about matter of their own liking.

You were lucky, guy!

That was not luck, but wisdom!

Ha, ha, hear him! You were too late man, just like you’re always late at school. The Pastor did not know how to keep the believers in control.

Nobody can enter anymore but for us.

Old and young, all of them are talking about the big blow, which scared the village during the High Mass.

Serve yourself once more, your honourable.

After you madame. Anna says I have to take it easy with the fruits of the earth.

Very wise, but remember that in this time of year the days are long.

Oh yes, that’s true enough.

A hearty breakfast makes for a healthy person. À propos, did you know that it’s not going well with the Count?

The casual addition of the Steward spells like the bomb of that morning in the casemate at the Castle grounds.

Athanase Gustave Charles Marie de Lévis

C’est affreux ça!

Athanase Gustave Charles Marie de Lévis, Duc de Mirepoix. The first H Mass I can give away, I will assign to the Count’s health.

The church does not have to give anything for free, Honourable. The Countess asks for extra H Masses with urgency. She has ordered me to… but I will come over to arrange it tomorrow.

The man hasn’t reached sixty yet! How’s that possible at that age?

Well, he loved to take in, Junior whispers towards Dominique and Andreas.

Expecting that Luc’s whispering is not respectful, his mother reminds him of the sorrow of Athanase.

Imagine how he lost his father at the age of two.

How then, Mum? Luc asks with interest.

Oh children, that’s too awkward to tell.

Head off, guillotine, he smiles at the little ones.

Madame Lalicorne does as if she hasn’t heard it and continues: Elle mourut, belle et charmante. I must clarify that for you Mr Pastor, Athanase and his wife Charlotte lost their seventeen-year-old daughter, Adrienne, at Château de Léran. Especially, she could never accept the loss.

The break that the Steward enters in order to accentuate the drama fills Luc by explaining: Aw, she fell from the horse.

Indeed, his father goes on to perish: Therefore, two years later, Charlotte donated her husband the possessions in Bouchove that she inherited from her wealthy father in 1837.

How can the stuff over here compensate for such a big loss? I really do not understand that at all, his son brutally brings in.

Before the Steward can show him his place, the Pastor takes the word: At this point I must agree with the young man. Money doesn’t make happy, even though it may be convenient from time to time.

Well, if you consider that he also inherited Château de Montigny-le-Gannelon… the Steward tries once more.

Oh yes, I almost forgot. Surprised, all of them look up at Larose, who has enjoyed the gathering so far, but now says: The coat of arms in ’t Zaaltje I have made from an example that came from there. Her voice falls as she continues: I have to go downstairs to see if there is anything left. They say it cannot get lost, but it may have melted by the hassle of this morning. I’ll need it soon. The murmur is hardly understandable, but alert children have overheard it all.

***

That morning, the village had been surprised by a burst of explosions that had shaken all the construction works on their foundations just after the High Mass sermon. The villagers had wondered what was going on, because only a small band of inmates knew that the access to the casemates around the Castle of Bouchove was being destroyed. Many were not aware of what had happened, but some healthy Bouchove guys and girls could not find their love nest anymore this afternoon.

***

As long as I make sure that the food is on the table, I am not being noticed. On that assumption, Larose decides to check her painting equipment after her afternoon nap. Carefully, she goes for the staircase, leaving the door to the living room on her left and descending to the basement.

Downstairs she does not go for the provisions but walks into the direction of a solid wall. That’s weird, and what is she doing now? With a few vague actions she opens a passage to the dark space behind. No worries. She ignites a candle and goes on with a self-confidence that points out that she has done it often.

What Larose is not aware of, is that she is followed by three shadows that watch her performances.

She takes the dead end, whispers the smallest.

Since this morning, all walkways are running into a dead-end, smart boy, giggles the girl.

Keep your mouths shut, commands the oldest.

Suddenly, the figure in front of them has disappeared, leaving only a gleam. At the end of the corridor leading to the cachot is a niche that gives access to a room. The space that had stored ammunition in former times has now shelves all around with all kinds of tools for painting. A Unicorn has been drawn on one of the walls.

Everything is still all right! Now that the Count is leaving us soon, I may need it. But let’s see, if the most precious of everything has not been damaged.

She seizes a box from the shelf and opens the lid. A stack of thin paper. That’s all… it seems. Carefully placing the box on an empty shelf, she removes the top sheet. A flatter thin face of eight to eight centimetres of 24-carat gold radiates into her eyes. It is pressed on thin paper of the kind like the empty leaf on top. She pulls a pin with pearl bud from her hair and makes a rectangle of four to six sheets. That’s right because she had only one leaf used from this last book. The result is enough to adjust the weapon in ’t Zaaltje.

She grabs the candle and holds it high above it. The gold begins to glow and comes to life. Shades become shapes. Dark figures with bright eyes against the glistening background. Figures that start to speak, in French! The French