The Master's Touch

By Gloria Fifield

Two violins, made to be a complete compliment of each other, wind their way through history in totally different directions. This is the story of those two beautiful instruments, their journey, and of all the people whose lives they they touch along the way. In the end, they come together again, become an inspiration to yet another generation, and we discover the truth about these violins and the Master who made them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gloria Fifield
• Release date: Dec 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9780463418086

Gloria Fifield

I've always loved books. Even as a kid, that was my favorite pastime, escaping into the fantasy world of whatever book I was reading. Sorry to say, I started writing a bit late in life, but once I started, I couldn't stop. So far, I've tried writing what is sometimes called chic lit, family sagas, mystery, and sci-fi. My latest, is a real epic tale that is a historical fiction novel. Now, that was a challenge. I tackled it because my late partner was fond of telling me not to sell myself short. He said that if my mind could think it, I could write it and he was so right. At the moment, I'm living in sunny Florida with my two feline companions and enjoying working on a brand new collaboration with my brother Dean Fifield (who is also a writer.) Hopefully, we'll be presenting it to you for your reading pleasure real soon.

Book preview

Chapter one

1665, Cremona, Italy

Antonio hunched over his work table, totally focused on what he was doing. He'd painstakingly chosen the perfect woods, the right tools and applied deft pressure as Master Niccolo trained him. This was the first of two since the master liked making them in pairs. The two would not be identical, but each of the pair would complement the other like two halves of one soul. These soulmates would unite beautifully in the music drawn from them. At times, Antonio could hear them in his heart as if they were brought to life by the virtuosos they were intended for.

Sweat beaded on his brow and a satisfied smile played on his lips as the violin slowly took shape in his capable hands. He traced the pattern pieces and carefully cut them then worked them into the perfect curvature and thickness at just the right spots. He was patient and did not rush the work.

Antonio was naturally proud of his work. Although Niccolo taught him well, he learned equally well from the wood itself. It seemed to speak to him. The young man caressed it as one would a lover and it responded to his touch, yielding exquisite beauty to his hands.

As Antonio worked, he dismissed all thoughts of the outside world. All that mattered was the music these instruments were destined to make. To this end, he devoted long hours, occasionally forgetting meals and even sleep, but for tonight, he had no choice but to bow to the lateness of the hour. Antonio needed rest if his work at this critical stage would be good enough to prove to his master he was ready to work on his own. He was determined these instruments would be as perfect as he could possibly make them. Reluctantly, the tired young man stood, stretched, then put his tools in their proper places. He then locked away his handiwork to keep it from prying eyes. Niccolo would see them soon enough, but not until they were completed. Only then would he properly introduce them in all their glory to his illustrious master.

That night, Antonio dreamed of the beautiful violins he was creating, of being his own master, but most of all, he finally dared to dream of raven hair and a sweet smile. The lovely Francesca would soon be his for the asking. Surely her family would not refuse him, not once he became his own master.

Chapter two

So, Antonio, what is this big surprise you have for me? You have been so secretive lately. I wager it has something to do with the young widow you are courting.

Well, yes sir, in a manner of speaking. What I mean is ... Antonio fumbled with the lock on the trunk where he kept his ladies. They were complete at last and as perfect as he could make them. He ached to show them off proudly to his teacher, but patiently held them back until he was satisfied it was his very best work.

Come now boy, speak up. Whatever it is, let me see it. Niccolo watched as Antonio lifted first one then the other of his precious instruments out of their hiding place. Gently, Antonio handed his mentor the first of the pair. Niccolo carefully inspected the instrument, noting the beautiful workmanship. The boy has learned well. He is a credit to all I taught him … and more. Speechless, Niccolo ran his fingers slowly over the body of the instrument. He too, could almost hear the music waiting inside it. May I? Niccolo couldn't hide his eagerness to be the first to play it.

Of course, Master Niccolo. I waited for this moment so you could be the first to try them. Antonio handed his teacher a bow then closed his eyes while Niccolo tested each string to be sure of the tuning. When he was satisfied, Niccolo took a deep breath, lifted the violin to his chin, and drew the bow. Slowly, gently, he released the first notes from the depths of the instrument. He played a simple melody. The notes floated on air, resting softly on their ears. He played for several minutes, unwilling to let it end.

After a short while, they noticed the small crowd gathered outside their open door. The listeners were held spellbound. Niccolo continued playing for a few minutes more then switched to the second violin. Again, he was captured by its beauty and sweetness of tone.

He was so engrossed in the music that he failed to notice Antonio pick up the first one until he began playing in concert with him. Niccolo was awed by the way the two complimented each other, each adding its own special tone, becoming something truly amazing when blended. Together they created the illusion of lovers entwined exactly as Antonio intended. Once the two were finished, their audience applauded, praising Niccolo and Antonio, calling them Maestro.

Niccolo reluctantly handed the violin back to its maker. There were tears in his eyes as he thanked Antonio. You have truly done well, my boy! Bellissimo! Niccolo embraced his former apprentice, knowing what it was he must do. The old master knew the time had come. Antonio, you are no longer my student. You could probably teach me a few things. We must go to the printer tomorrow and have your name put on a label of your own. I would be proud to have you work with me here, but I suppose ... well ... you will most likely want to have your own place. Still, I want you to know you are most welcome to stay and work here a while to get started.

I don't know what to say, Master ... Niccolo interrupted him before he could finish.

"You should call me master no longer, Antonio. You are a master in your own right." He clapped Antonio on the back, man to man, letting him know he meant what he said. Antonio basked in the warm light of his former master's praise.

Mas … I mean Signore Niccolo, would you please excuse me from working today? I need to ...

A master need not ask, but yes, Antonio, go ask for her. Francesca will make you a fine wife. She already has children, so she will be able to give you sons to train. Niccolo laughed at his discomfort as the young man blushed.

Thank you, Signore, oh thank you! Antonio started to rush out of the shop then remembered what in his haste he'd almost forgotten. He turned back to put the violins away safely in their trunk.

Niccolo waved him on saying, Go, Antonio, I will put these beauties away for you. He laughed again as the young man took off at full tilt, this time heading for the home of the widow Capra to see her brother about arranging a marriage.

Chapter three

I have some good news for you, Antonio. Niccolo greeted his former student as he entered the shop to begin the day's work. I have just received a letter from a messenger. My patrons, the Medici, want to see our best pieces. They will choose among them ones to send as gifts to the king of France for his son’s wedding. I would like your permission to show them yours along with mine. That beautiful matched pair you made is as good ... no, better than many of the ones I have.

Why, Mas … um … Signore Niccolo, I'd be honored! By all means, show them if you think they are worthy of their exalted consideration. Antonio's heart fluttered for a moment. His work would be brought to the attention of the great family Medici! The Medici were patrons of Niccolo's family for three generations and if all went well, could easily become his as well.

We must pack them carefully, for I am to bring them tomorrow to the castle for the presentation. Come, help me get a few others ready as well. We must show them only our best.

Only the best, Signore. Of that you can be sure. He put aside the newest piece he was working on. Gladly, he helped Niccolo pack the ones he wanted to take with him very carefully in sturdy trunks to keep them safe on their journey.

Niccolo watched as Antonio lovingly wrapped his two violins, placing them in a separate trunk. Antonio took one last, long look at them then closed the lid and locked it. Niccolo sighed. If only my own son, Girolamo showed a tenth of the promise Antonio does, I would die a happy man. Niccolo turned his attention back to preparing for the journey. It would be a real feather in their caps if they made this sale. Perhaps if his work does well, Antonio will use the money to marry that girl of his. I will probably lose him for sure then … Ah well, it is the way it has always been. Every bird must someday learn to fly and find a place to build his own nest …

Chapter four

Niccolo was pleased. The sale went well and he was returning with a substantial sum as well as a commission to create another matched set for the Duke's court musicians. Antonio's work impressed them tremendously. More so even than mine … If only he were my son … Niccolo sighed. He tried to teach Girolamo the craft, but no matter how hard the boy tried, he just didn't have it in him. The spark that passed to Niccolo through his grandfather missed his son all together. The boy could build a decent instrument sure, but there was always something lacking.

The special magic that was not in him to produce, found itself in young Antonio's work instead. It was all too evident that Antonio would far surpass his old teacher. Niccolo understandably looked upon Antonio's accomplishment and prowess with a father's pride.

Later that day, as Niccolo recounted to Antonio the comments that were made by his patrons about the presentation and how well their work was received, he found himself wishing once more that Antonio were his son and not only his former student. Still there was one thing he needed to tell Antonio. I hope you will not despise me for doing this, Antonio. I know how excited you were to have your work presented along with my own, but I wanted to give them the best chance of being chosen. As beautifully made as they are, they were made by a new master with only the beginnings of a reputation. I was afraid they might be rejected for that reason, so I represented them as my own. Since you had no label on them, they accepted them as such. I'd like to think they would have been accepted on their own merits, but the fact of the matter is, the Duke has little appreciation for music. He would only have chosen ones with a well known master's mark. Then, he accepted them falsely.

Yes, but the important thing is, he accepted them. He not only purchased them for the intended gift, he commissioned us to make him another set for his own court.

Which you will also represent as your own? The frown on Antonio's face told Niccolo he was not at all happy.

Only with your permission this time. I know it was unfair of me, but I did not want you to be rejected by that buffoon. Niccolo glanced around nervously to make sure he wasn't overheard. If he refused your work, word would have spread that your work was not good enough. It could have kept you from becoming the true master you are meant to be.

Antonio's face softened a little, Yes, you have my permission … this time. I understand why you did this, but wish you were able to ask me first. He turned away from Niccolo so his mentor would not see the disappointment he felt. Antonio knew in his heart the time had come. After his marriage to Francesca, he would move out of this shop and start his own. No one will ever claim my work as theirs again. He managed a slight smile when he remembered that he had indeed put his mark on them. He’d put an inscription in each of them and signed his name, Antonio Stradivari. He did this very carefully on the inside of both violins where no one was likely to ever see it.

Chapter five

Now, that was an easy haul, Henri. Wish they were all that easy! Gerard Broussard slowed the horses a little. He thought for sure now that no one was following. He and his brother, Henri, waylaid this cart full of cargo just a few miles out of Marseilles, leaving the driver bound and gagged in the bushes along the way.

They had no idea what was in the crates on the cart, but it had to be something worth a fortune. The cart had the king's crest on it. With all the loads of gifts being sent for the royal wedding, Gerard figured these few would never be missed. He mumbled under his breath, The hell with them if they do. Those royal bastards have all too much as it is. It's time they shared the wealth!

Don't slow down just yet, Gerard. We won't be safe until we reach the caves, not with this cart with a royal crest on it. We need to get it out of sight as quick as we can! Henri spurred his horse on as Gerard picked up the pace once more.

They managed to reach their hideout without being seen, get the cargo unloaded, then stowed the cart further back in the cave out of sight. Once they were absolutely sure they hadn't been followed, Henri started to inventory their booty. Inside the chests, they found all kinds of finery. There were fine clothes and linens in one, a cloak studded with jewels in another. A smaller chest contained newly minted gold coins to commemorate the king's wedding. In the last chest, they were puzzled at what looked like velvet draperies.

Henri was about to rip it out of the chest to see if anything else was hidden underneath, when Gerard stopped him. Wait! There something wrapped in it. Henri looked again, this time more carefully. He pulled out one of the pair of violins enveloped in the folds of the velvet cloth.

What have we here? Gerard pulled out the second one and held it up to the first one. It was plain to see they were crafted as a matched pair. Well, they may be pretty, but I have no use for them.

Henri quipped, If they were sent as a gift for the king, they must be valuable. We'll never be able to sell them around here. Someone might trace them back to that shipment from Florence and from there to us. Henri put them both back in the chest, making sure to wrap them as carefully as they were originally.

You know, Henri, we can take most of this stuff to the smuggler's market where they won't ask too many questions about how we came by it, but I don't imagine the violins will bring us much there. It won't matter how valuable they are. No one there will appreciate them.

You're probably right. It might better to sell them to one of the ship's Masters in the harbor. They've been known to appreciate quality goods like these at a bargain price.

It's settled then. I think you should try to sell them one at a time. It would arouse less suspicion that way.

Me? Why me? You take them, Gerard. You seem to know more about this sort of thing. Henri knew if he were to try, he'd probably get caught and hung. Someone could have seen him driving away with the goods. He didn't want to take the chance of being recognized.

All right then, I will, but don't get angry if I don't get the best price for them. You are much better at selling merchandise than I am. Gerard shrugged his shoulders and prepared to start a fire to cook their evening meal consisting of a rasher of smoked bacon he'd lifted from a smokehouse earlier that day and a loaf of crusty bread he'd actually paid the penny for. He never could resist a pretty girl. The new little miss working in Sollier's bakery was certainly that. Henri and Gerard enjoyed their food and thoughts of all the beautiful girls in the world they hadn't sampled … yet.

The next morning, Henri and Gerard each prepared to sell their part of the stolen goods. Gerard took one of the beautiful violins and headed for the harbor with it. Wrapped in a piece of the velvet cloth, he strapped it to his back. He whistled a light-hearted little ditty as he rode, thinking how easy his lot in life was, and how profitable as well.

Henri made short work of removing the royal crest from the cart the goods were in when he liberated them. It wouldn't be prudent to let it be seen by anyone hereabouts. It could point the finger at them as the thieves that drove off with the loaded cart in broad daylight when its driver stopped at an inn for a midday meal … and a pint or two. A smile played on his lips as he thought of the money these rich garments would fetch at the smuggler's market. The cart and horses would too after he altered the branding marks. It was early, so Henri took his time. The thought that he and his brother could actually die for what they were doing was a fleeting one. Chapter

Gerard wasn't having much luck trying to find a buyer for the violin strapped to his back. Twice, he'd been run off before he could even say what he'd come for. Another time, he was threatened with being pressed into service if he didn't move on. At last, thirst got the better of him so he decided to visit The Ship's Mast, a waterfront dive, as good a place as any to toss back a pint … or three.

While he was trying to impress the owner's daughter, Gerard spotted the captain of the Celeste drinking at a corner table with his first mate, Mr. Tibbits. Both had a reputation of less than trustworthy nature. Gerard thought about approaching them, but nearly changed his mind. It's not worth the trouble of messing with those two. Still, it is what I've come for and they just might be interested. Trick is, to approach them in a way that I get paid and not wind up with a knife in the back.

Yo there, my fine Captain! Let me stand you gents a round while we discuss a little business. Gerard warily motioned for the barmaid to come over to their table as he pulled a chair around to join them. I have on my person a fine example of workmanship that would be at home in the finest drawing room … or a ship captain's quarters.

The Captain wasn’t easily impressed, I don't see any business you could possibly have to do with us, be gone! He slammed his mug down on the table for the offered refill before the offer could be withdrawn. A free pint was a free pint after all.

Girard winked at the barmaid then continued trying to interest the man in buying the instrument. Ah, but Captain, I'll wager you've never seen such fine detail, such excellent workmanship! He gently unwrapped the masterpiece and laid it on the table before them. The look on Captain Rollins' face told him the fish was on the hook. Now came the tricky part, negotiating a decent price.

When the captain was able to tear his eyes away from it, he tried to make out that he was disinterested, but Gerard knew he had him. A smile crept across Gerard's face as he pretended not to notice Rollins tenderly run his fingers across the body of the violin without realizing it. Tibbets leaned over to whisper something in the captain's ear, received a nod in reply, then left tavern quickly. Rollins turned to Gerard, So, how did the likes of you come by an instrument so fine? Surely, you aren't a wealthy gentleman trying to sell family heirlooms here on the waterfront.

Gerard smiled and answered him with a flourish, Surely a man of distinction such as you must acquaint himself with entrepreneurs like me from time to time. Let's just say, I would be willing to let you have this lovely masterpiece for such a bargain, that any questioning of how it came into my hand will no longer be necessary. Gerard waited for the captain to take the bait. Come on now, Captain, you know you want it …

Rollins smiled, Well my friend, let's see if we can come to an equitable agreement. Come now, finish your ale and I'll stand you the next. I'm due to sail on the morning tide and I don't mind telling you, I'd like this little beauty to sail with me. The captain averted his eyes, not wanting Gerard to see the treachery hidden there.

He shouted to the serving girl, Girl! We need another ale for me and my new friend here. Make it quick now, we're thirsty! Gerard heard the word friend, and felt a shiver go up his spine. This was one friend he knew better than to trust. He was certainly not someone he'd ever want to turn his back on. Still, that was the way things always were in this business.

After several rounds, Gerard lost some of his wariness and was enjoying the warmth and camaraderie. He'd already agreed to a reasonable price for the violin and received the captain's gold, but stayed to enjoy the ale … and the tavern owner's daughter. He was not very observant, because he failed to notice when Rollins nodded to someone standing in the doorway leading out to the back alley.

The tavern owner came over to whisper to them, Messieurs! quickly … the king's men … they are coming!

Even as full of ale as he was, Gerard immediately rose from the table. My dear captain, I must bid you adieu and wish you a bon voyage! He felt for his purse, felt the gold coins it contained, and quickly headed out the back. He never saw the man that came at him from the shadows. He felt the knife as it was thrust in his chest, saw the blood that poured out, and the evil look on the face of his killer. The sound of his killer mocking him was the last thing Gerard ever heard.

As Tibbets re-entered the tavern, he exchanged a knowing glance with the owner then sat down again at his captain's table. Another ale, quickly! He felt he'd earned his keep this day. As he waited impatiently for the ale, Tibbets reached over to set a purse on the table in front of his captain. It contained what little money Gerard had before as well as two of the three gold coins that Rollins paid him. The third one he'd kept … for his trouble.

Chapter six

The sun was setting and Henri shivered as a chilled breeze blew in from the sea. I wish Gerard would get back here. He's probably spending what little he got for that violin on some cheap whore! Damn him … He poured out the dregs of coffee from his cup into the fire then turned his back and stomped off into the cave.

Using a torch for light, he rummaged through the goods stockpiled there until he found what he was looking for, a pistol with its bag of powder and shot. As he rode off Henri mumbled, Well I guess I'll just have to go find him and remind him of what he was sent there for. Henri rode toward the harbor carefully lest he lose his way in the growing darkness.

The pounding of his horse's hooves made an unnerving, eerie sound that echoed through the woods. By the time Henri reached the waterfront, he was not only chilled by the night air, but filled with an apprehension he couldn't explain. I need a drink. I suppose I'd have a better chance of finding my dear brother if I drop in at The Ship's Mast anyway.

Henri tied his horse out in front then jauntily stepped into the bar. He suddenly got that apprehensive feeling again, instantly putting him on guard. All eyes in the room watched as he cautiously sat at a table with his back to the wall, warily eying the door. A buxom brunette timidly came over to his table, looking at him as if he were an apparition. And what would be your pleasure Monsieur?

Henri tried to show a bravado he didn't feel, Besides you? I think I'll have a pint of dark ale and whatever meal your good employer has ready ... and hurry girl, I'm starved!

The nervous barmaid drew him a mug of ale and brought it to him straight away. She picked up the silver rial he laid on the table then moved off to the kitchen to fetch his food. Henri sipped the frothy brew. He felt as if there were a hundred eyes watching his every move. He waited for whatever it was they expected to happen.

It was hardly any time at all, before a man in a greasy stained apron came out of the kitchen carrying a tray full of the simple but hearty fare they served here. Dark crusty bread, a roast of beef with a bowl of broth and a rind of hard cheese to soften in it. He spoke not a word until he was finished placing the food on the table then took Henri's empty tankard and refilled it at the bar. As he set it in front of Henri, the man tossed the silver rial back to him, No charge sir. I want no more trouble in here. Eat then go.

Fear gripped Henri, but he tried not to show it. Gerard must have been here today. Why else would the owner seem so afraid of me? It would be hard not to notice the resemblance between me and my brother. He tore off a piece of the bread and dipped it in the broth. Although hungry, Henri's nerves wouldn't let him finish his meal. He placed the rial on the table with the remnants as he rose to leave. From the tension I feel in here, whatever happened when Gerard came in, must have ended badly … very badly.

Henri left the tavern with a sinking feeling that something terrible happened to his brother. He wasn't far from the doorway when he heard a small voice and saw a girl motioning him to the alleyway behind the building. Wary now, he turned into the alley, aware that whoever was there must be afraid to be seen talking to him.

Monsieur … quickly, this way! It was the serving girl, hiding in the shadows.

"What is it, girl? Come now, I won't hurt you. What is it you wish to tell me?

My father is the owner here and he saw Gerard flirting with me today as I served him. He was angry and made a deal with that man Tibbets to teach him a lesson he'd never forget. He was only supposed to give Gerard a beating, you know, as an example of what he could expect if he persisted in his attentions to me. The girl was sobbing now, overcome with grief, and something else … fear.

Henri put his hands on the girl's shoulders, shaking her slightly. Tell me, tell me what happened! What did he do to my brother! He needed to know but feared what she would tell him just the same.

Monsieur, my father … he would kill me if he knew ...

No one will hurt you, I'll see to that. I promise.

He … he killed him! Gerard made a deal with Capt. Rollins for something he wanted to sell, and the captain got him drunk. When Gerard left out the back, Tibbets was waiting for him. He killed him! I'm so sorry, Monsieur. It's all my fault! She was sobbing uncontrollably again, obviously blaming herself for what happened. Henri, put his arm around her trying to console her.

Shhh … don't cry now. I'm sure you couldn't have stopped my brother from flirting even if you tried. He has … er … had quite an eye for the ladies ...

I'm so sorry Monsieur … I didn't mean ... her voice faltered as she trembled in Henri's arms. He began to be aware of another presence in the alleyway, an ominous one.

Thank you … um … I don't even know your name …

It's Yvette, Yvette Mereaux. My father is Jacques Mereaux.

Yes well, you'd better go back in now. I don't want your father to suspect you came to tell me this. Henri didn't want her father to suspect that he knew. A plan for revenge was forming in his brain that would depend on his not knowing. He released the girl and watched as she stealthily crept back inside.

So, Monsieur Mereaux had Gerard killed. Did he not think someone would come looking for him? Well, he may have thought he got away with murder, but we'll just see about that. I will exact retribution, but first, I need to find out about this man called Tibbets. What was the connection between him and Mereaux? Tibbets must know Mereaux pretty well to kill for him. Even though Yvette believes Tibbets went too far and that her father only wanted Gerard beaten, I'm not so sure. Men like this Tibbets don't kill by mistake … or for free.

Henri needed information, but at the moment he felt he needed to find a safe route of escape. He was pretty sure he'd need one before this night was through. He rode toward the docks wondering if he could even dare stay in the country, let alone Marseilles.

It didn't take Henri long to find out who Tibbets was. In another grog shop, he got into a game of chance with the proprietor who was fount of information. Henri learned Tibbets was first mate on the Celeste under Captain Rollins and a more ruthless pair of rouges could be found nowhere. He also learned that the Celeste was due to sail in the morning with a cargo for the New World. I wonder …

Chapter seven

Henri leaned over the side retching, though the contents of his stomach were already long gone. He came out on deck hoping the fresh sea air would clear the stench from his nostrils and allow his belly some respite from the seasickness. It was a lost cause. Nearly a week out of port, he was still unwillingly giving his meals to the fishes.

The decision to leave Marseilles was made for him by circumstance, that of being found standing over a dead body with a knife in his hand. Sticking around for the constabulary seemed foolish, considering the fact the dead man was none other than Jacques Mereaux, the man who arranged his brother's murder.

Henri went to the Tavern to confront Mereaux, but was too late. Another hand did what he came to do. He found Jacques lying behind the kitchen door in a pool of blood. As Henri bent over Mereaux, knife in hand, he knew the sorry excuse for a man was dead. Yvette suddenly let out a terrible cry when she saw him standing over her father's body. Henri could only think she assumed the worst.

It would be mere minutes before her screams would bring help, so he ran. Henri dodged the patrols out looking for him and rode back to the cave by a roundabout way to make sure he wasn't followed. The sun was just breaking above the horizon as he fed and watered his weary horse.

Caring for the animal helped Henri relieve some of the tension he'd felt since riding into town. Until this moment, he couldn't give in to the grief. In the silence of the new dawn, Henri cried for his brother. Release came with the tears. It left him drained, empty of all emotion. He was alone in the world. It was only him and his brother for nearly as long as he could remember.

Gerard was the older brother, the one that always looked out for him. Their mother died when Henri was just a babe and their father was a drunkard that walked away one day and never came back. After that, Gerard was all Henri had.

Taking stock of his situation, Henri decided that staying to prove his innocence would be folly, so he searched out another ship destined for the New World. He felt certain that was the only place he could escape the gallows. He sold nearly all of the goods at the smuggler's market, keeping only some of the fine clothing and personal items.

Keeping the finery turned out to be a wise decision because traveling as a gentleman of means would be much preferable to buying passage in steerage. Henri hoped he still had enough gold left after paying his passage to get him a new start when the ship docked at its destination ... somewhere in the Virginia colony called James Towne.

Henri gave a false name to the ship's master and had the remainder of his things brought aboard, including an oblong chest containing the second of the pair of violins. Henri briefly wondared what happened to the one Gerard had. It's a shame they've been separated, but what's done is done. No use worrying about it now.

Henri Broussard, or as he was now known, Charles Rivierre, looked out over the swiftly moving water. He watched a group of dolphins run alongside the ship, as if they were bidding him farewell. Thinking of how he'd left behind all he knew when he stepped aboard this ship, he became homesick. Such as it was, Marseilles was the only home he'd ever known, and he knew he'd most likely never see that home again.

Chapter eight

The tide was fast returning. It would soon be time for the Celeste to leave its moorings and head out to sea. The cargo was squared away, all the crew was aboard, all but one. Tibbets was still ashore. He said he had some unfinished business to take care of in town last night, but it was getting late. They couldn't wait much longer.

Captain Rollins almost gave up on being able to sail with his first mate on board, until he spotted his shadowy figure coming out of an alleyway, heading straight for the ship. About blasted time! Get aboard, Mr. Tibbets We'll not be waitin' fer ye any longer!

Tibbets was as shady a character as could be found in any port, but he was one of the best first mates Rollins ever sailed with. He hated the idea of replacing the man, but causing the Celeste not to sail on time would have forced him to do just that. One thing he prided himself on was that once he posted a sailing time, he never delayed that sailing.

Captain Rollins thought back on the events of the last few days and shuddared at the callous way Tibbets waited for that young man then killed him in cold blood with no more remorse that if he'd been some animal being slaughtered. That's one man I'll warrant needs watching. He could be real trouble if he ever took in his mind to want my place as ship's master. Yes indeed, he'll bear watching closely. Rollins put those thoughts aside for the moment as he busied himself with overseeing the departure of the Celeste.

Tibbets was anxious to leave port as well. The high sea was the one place the authorities couldn't question him. He smiled knowing that he most likely would never be held accountable for this week's work. That tavern keeper's daughter nearly caught him taking care of his unfinished business. He didn't go there intent on killing Mereaux, but found it necessary just the same. It also made it necessary to go into hiding until it came time for the Celeste's departure.

He only went to collect his fee for taking care of that fool that was admiring Mereaux's daughter. If it'd been me, I'd 'ave done more than just admire that little vixen. Blimey! I wouldn't mind a bit o' that sweet little piece meself … O' course, now I'll 'ave to forgo that bit o' pleasure. Foolish old man. If 'e 'adn't started shoutin' at me for killin' that sewer rat, 'e might still be alive. I'll 'ave to be more careful in future. I was lucky … this time.

Tibbets shook off the thoughts of his close call with the hangman's noose and laid into a sailor he thought wasn't jumping fast enough to the captain's orders. Move yer bloomin' arse! Raise the mains’ils! He smiled knowing it would be a long time if ever before he'd be back in this port and by that time, the murder of Jacques Mereaux would be nothing but a vague memory.

Chapter nine

In the year of our Lord, 1701

Williamsburg, Virginia

Now Charles, you know you would be the ideal candidate! Nathan Hawthorne couldn't understand why his friend Charles was so reluctant to be elected to the House of Burgesses. To any land owner of his standing, it should seem an honor.

I've told you this many times my friend. I have no desire to be a public servant … or a private one for that matter! His face showed none of the concern he felt. As a private citizen, a land owner, and head of a fast growing business empire, he was content with the new life he carved for himself here in the colonies. The years had been kind to him, allowing him to build a good new life in place of the old one he left behind years ago in Marseilles.

Charles arrived here with very little, but soon was master of his own estate and married to one of the prettiest women in James Towne, Amanda Travers. Together they produced two strapping sons, Gerald and Charles. Two more handsome boys could not be found in all of Virginia.

He and Amanda also had a vivacious young daughter, Vivienne. She studied music and especially loved the beautiful violin her father gave her for her sixteenth birthday. She could be heard practicing in the parlor as Charles chided his friend once more about the folly of leaving his home for long periods to sit in the House's chambers, deciding weighty matters of state.

Nathan, you have my answer. Now, can we discuss something else before the ladies call us in to dinner? He laughed good naturedly at Nathan's discomfort, knowing Nathan knew what something he was referring to. Nathan was enamored of Charles daughter but couldn't bring himself to speak about it. Nathan was a good ten years older than Vivienne.

For what it was worth, Charles approved. He thought it would take an older, more experienced man to protect his lovely Vivienne in the years to come. This was still a young colony with troubles breaking out from time to time. Since the capital was moved to Williamsburg, formerly Middle Plantation, there were still those who protested. Then there was always the danger of Indian uprisings this close to the frontier. True, the danger was lessening every year, but was still ever present. It would set his mind at ease knowing Vivienne was well cared for.

Amanda shyly entered the room. Charles, Mary tells me dinner is ready.

We'll be in momentarily my dear. When you call Vivienne for dinner, tell her I think her playing has improved greatly.

It has, hasn't it dear? She practices constantly with that old violin you gave her.

"It was only gathering dust up in the attic.