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The Journey Continues

The Hidden Will of the Dragon

Excerpts from the sequel to Dandelions In The Garden

Chapters 13-15

Wicked as the Wind

I am not sure what compelled me to do so, but I dropped to my knees.  Small flakes of snow began to fall and were wetting my hair and cheeks.  I blinked, clearing the snow from my lashes.  I begged for a miracle.  I dared something to intervene and release us from this life.  I cursed God and all that was holy for my suffering.  From my teachings I knew this was unwise, but my anger was such that I did not care.  I had been good, and I had been bad.  I doubted either course was punishable or rewarded by God, rather I had the nagging suspicion fate was determined by man.  Yet, I prayed.   

What is Done, Cannot be Undone
At first I did not understand why Anna did not protest, why she agreed to the arranged marriage, but after hearing Count Thurzo’s orders and seeing Elizabeth’s state, I realized Anna was smarter and more mature than I originally gave her credit.  She had not been consumed by the romantic notion of freedom nor blind to duty.  I believe she was mindful of her father’s intentions and knew not even death would allow her to escape Fate.  Yes, she was more aware than her mother that arms reached from the grave.  Besides, in the case of Anna marriage provided benefit, a change of scenery.  Existence at Cachtice was difficult and solitary.  If she could not be the custodian of her own future, she’d settle for a crumb of happiness.  A fine dress, a grand party, a chamber of ladies for company and if Fortune blessed, a tolerable husband.  After all, this was the very best our sex could do.  It was an accomplishment and prized above all else.  I thought of the prostitutes working the Turkish soldier tents.  They were mere objects of pleasure to be used on whim or whipped.  Then there was the servant girl strung up in a cage for attempting escape.  Her crime was trading information for promise of bread and a few coins.  All this scraping, clawing and plotting was good for what—a glimpse of a better life?  What did the risk get you, but a few moments of security until the next threat entered the scene?  Not even a queen was safe.  If she did not produce a male heir, or if a younger woman took her place in the marriage bed she’d be exiled, or worse lose her head.  Women were a disposal bag of flesh and bones – hallow wombs placed on Earth to serve a purpose and when all was done, it was undone.


A Soul's End
I took a deep breath.  Indeed, it reeked terribly sweet.  The smell of fortune changing piqued my senses sending them tingling with delight.  The wicked current pushed at the rear of the carriage encouraging our small travel party onward to Vienna.  Let Draco worry about Protestant rebels.  It was better for us if he remained occupied with duty rather than domesticity.  For once I was pleased to hear of conflict; in this case, a religious conflict provided a timely distraction.  It gave a cloak for us to brew a much more sinister uprising – the Blood Countess, as Elizabeth would later become known, was about to descend on the city.

The Journey Continues

The Hidden Will Of The Dragon

Excerpts from the sequel to Dandelions In The Garden

Chapters 10-12

The Dinner Guest

Among the last of the trespassers was the man who sought to rape me.  I walked slowly toward him, my eyes narrowing as I approached.  I wanted to see his fear, wanted to smell it seeping from his dingy pores.  I knew he would not beg for his life, he was a soldier after all, but I hoped in the face of certain death his eyes would give away all I needed to know.  I hungered to witness his powerlessness.


A House Condemned

I shut the door.  I hesitated for a moment listening to the sound of my own blood pumping through my veins.  My mind pictured the gypsy man sewn in the gutted horse, and then I saw the dead girl’s arm twitching between the iron bars.  Anna had seen something she was not ready to witness.  Like Elizabeth so long ago, Anna snuck from her bedchamber to spy.  Tonight Anna got her slaughtered beast. 

I rubbed my temples as I walked through the twilight of the night to my chamber.  I knew Anna would never be the same, this would change her, but I did not yet know how.  Upon entering my room, I poured a glass of water.  The cool liquid washed the smelly dungeon dust from my throat.  I thought about Anna’s request for the servant girl, that she be given a proper Christian burial, it was a way to repent the sin.  I drew back the velvet curtain from my window and gazed upon the thick crescent moon overhead.  No clouds floated by giving depth to the vast universe.  I let the drapes fall.  I could not bear looking at the world.  I did not fully understand just how serious Anna’s request would become.  Like Elizabeth, I assumed granting her wish was the least we could do if it'd make her happy.  Elizabeth was the strongest woman I knew, her only weakness was pleasing her children.  Unfortunately, it was this weakness, this very act of kindness, which would lend to her demise. 


The Night, He Is A Vampire 

The weather was brisk and the sun shone as if it were on the other side of the world.  Its thin rays reached through the overcast to brighten my remote existence for a mere few hours.  The warming clashed with the dampness hanging between the trees creating a backdrop upon which I could see all the impurity in the air.  My skirt stirred pollen from the nestled centers of withering blooms.  The stale fragrances tickled my nose as I went by and a butterfly unremarkable in color and variety flirted with the pedals of a nearby flower.  I’d been told the brilliant colors of its species belonged to the males.  I thought this a defect in creation until it was explained the advantage was for survival.  What I viewed as ornamental vanity was really camouflaged armor.  I watched the female butterfly flutter about touching pedals, then zipping to the next before settling on the leaf of a bush.  Her dull color in sharp contrast to the deep fleshy greens and vibrant pinks of the blooms.  How vulnerable she looked resting in Eden.  This was no place for the likes of her; this was a place for the advantaged.  She belonged in the gray areas of the world where she’d be safe from preying beaks wishing to devour her.  With a wave of my hand I sent her flying upward and over the hedge. 

I revealed in my rescue.  I bent down to sniff the scent of a rose bush.  The edges of the blooms were brackish and the heads drooping as if in prayer.  A hint of perfume remained but was tainted by the overpowering smell of decay.  How short the vibrant life!  It was then, as I was trying to pluck the last beauty of the red roses that something hidden near the path distracted me.  My skin tingled with the eerie sensation I was being stalked.  I glanced upward at the windows to see if I were being watched from above, but they stood empty and draped.  I released my grasp on the flower and took a turn scrutinizing the scenery.  I moved subtly giving nothing away in order to protect my susceptible position amidst the garden.  I resisted the urge to call out.  Instead, I assessed the distance from where I stood to the garden doors.  It was at the very least a hundred footsteps, if not more.  I took another turn, this time looking beyond the immediate to discover in the recesses a glint of bronze.  As I moved, so did my pursuer.  The rustling of leaves matched the crunching of stone beneath my slippers.  He had the advantage of cover, but I was clever.  I was drawing him towards a weak spot where early frost damaged the foliage.  Just a few more steps and I’d snare him, but to my dismay the rustling stopped short.  True to my kind I pursued the danger and went straight to where I thought he’d quit.  As I neared I saw him.  The glint was the reflection of brass fastens caught in the sunlight.  I was impressed at how his ginger hair blended with the turning leaves and the embroidery of his uniform patterned with the natural landscape.  He did not retreat upon discovery; instead, he once again matched my movements mirroring them along the pathway. 

The Journey Continues

The Hidden Will Of The Dragon

Excerpts from the sequel to Dandelions In The Garden

Chapters 7-9

Indebted Web Of Fortune

Elizabeth’s skin was cool to the touch and I worried she was ill.  I squeezed her hands tight to relieve the trembling.  Her bones quivered, her lips taunt and something in her eyes pleaded for this nightmare to end.  I saw it clearly; I saw the blackness and betrayal filling her up, consuming her right in front of me.  What was most frightening was I did not know how to prevent it from happening – I was helpless to act.  In that moment I thought all was lost, everything was about to be undone.   She was breaking apart, her sanity cracking.  She was slipping away.  I tried coaxing her toward the door, but she remained stiffly in place.  I begged her to come forth, but she did not response to my voice.  I clutched her hand harder hoping the pain would summons a reaction, but when there was no change in her constitution, I tried another method.  I flung open the window.  A rush of sea air filled the room smacking us like a slap.  The biting chill did not shake her from the awful catatonic state. 

Amour Cast Upon the Fateful Heart

We huddled under our hoods, which were snuggly tied over our heads.  I shook uncontrollably in the brisk air on the upper deck of the fishing vessel.  The fog was so dense that we could barely see a few feet in front of the bow.  A tiny light appeared in the distance.  It was a lantern hanging from a dock signaling through the thick haze we were nearing the shores of Venice.  Nicholas called to the fishmonger asking him to avoid the Grand Canal and take the entrance leading through the Rio di Battelo in the Cannaregio District.  The route took us into the heart of the Jewish Ghetto where we’d disembark from the boat and make the last leg of the journey on foot.  The monger hesitated, he was suspicious of Elizabeth but the extra money rattling in his pocket was enough to turn a blind eye.

Once the ropes were secured, we hurried down the ramp.  We followed Nicholas along alleyways bending around corners and over bridges, taking special care to avoid the smelling slop from chamber pots splattered over the stone paths and bumping our noggins on cross beams.  Even though I spent time exploring the city, I still did not know my way around.  We rounded sharp left, went up a set of stairs and down the next and through a tunnel, across a campo before veering down two more alleys, which intersected.  It was there that I got my first glance at the familiar.  I recognized the doorways and the tiny faded sign rocking over a local shop window. 

Nicholas rapped on the door.  Through the greasy window lighted candles radiated.  Someone inside was on deathwatch.  An elderly man with a beard whiting from age appeared from the bedchamber and shuffled toward the door.

Dandelions In The Garden

1628:  Present Day Vienna

The intense honesty from which she spoke was familiar; I’d seen it before.  It was an essence that spoke through the eyes and came from somewhere deep within a woman’s belly.  I regretted it was only expressed in the presence of one another and never surfaced in its full glory while in the company of the stronger sex.  I detested how many times I’d witnessed this intensity suppressed, caged in the gut, and forced to retreat until another day, perhaps another year.  Men might wager they’d seen a woman’s scorn, been burned by a hateful glare or taken back by a foreign determination, but I assure none have seen the pure vitality, or experienced a glimpse of the true feminine soul.  A silver tray piled with confectionary delights was thrust beneath our noses.  It completely interrupted my thoughts. 

Kate removed her glove placing it across her lap.  She chose a seashell shaped biscuit with a hardened coat of chocolate sauce.  “You know what I enjoy even more than this scrumptious delight?” she said.  “I’d very much like for you to tell another one of your stories.”

The Journey Continues

The Hidden Will Of The Dragon

Excerpts from the sequel to Dandelions In The Garden

Chapters 4-6

The Detour

Most people believed that San Marco was where the city’s pulse began, but I disagreed.  For me, the mystery of Venice hid in a deeper, seedier place where raw passion fed the people who claimed it as home.  I thought to myself, this is what Raphael should paint.  He should sketch the hanging lines of laundry and debris littering the ground.  He should bring to life the cracks in the cobblestone and the apple rotting on a weathered crate.  It was from this very alley that Venice breathed, and it was from here that Elizabeth’s path took a fateful turn.

The Mastery Of Artful Play

Elizabeth was flaming with enthusiasm at the young gentleman’s winning streak.  She waved at a tab holder authorizing another draw from her account.  She nodded to the dealer to place the gentleman’s bet explaining if he lost the hand, she’d cover the debt.  Three gentlemen dropped out leaving Elizabeth’s beau and an Englishman to battle for the pot.  She was on edge and could taste the winnings.  They were so close to taking it all!  She playfully winked at the Englishman who was twiddling with the ratty fray of his mustache.  Distractingly, she touched her gloved finger to her bare chest.  The Englishman tried to ignore the flirtation but the mannerism was obviously breaking his concentration.  She wet her lips as she slowly moved her finger in tiny circles over her skin just above the neckline of her bodice.

Fruit From The Tree

I did the unthinkable!  I failed my duty as a confidante – I committed a terrible act of treachery, a practice that was becoming altogether too easy for me.

“Where is she now?” he asked.

I had my hand over my mouth trying to prevent anything else from spilling out. 

“You must tell me, Amara.  Francis is on his way to Venice to see his wife.”

I refused to say another word.

“Very well, if you won’t tell me then you must go on your own to warn her.”

The Journey Continues

The Hidden Will Of The Dragon

Excerpts from the sequel to Dandelions In The Garden

Chapters 1-3

Rose Hill Sanitarium

When she [nurse] was appropriately postured, I spoke.  I began to tell her my story.  Not the story I was writing for Count Drugeth about his grandmother, but my story.  I told her about my mother falling ill and how I went to serve as a lady in waiting to the Countess Bathory.  I spoke of my love for George and how it was not meant to be.  She was saddened by the news, but brightened when I introduced Draco Lorant to the conversation.  In a way, I shared Elizabeth’s story while I shared my own because it was impossible to tell one without telling the other.  I found it refreshing to talk and have someone listen.  At the time, I didn’t know if I’d ever leave Rose Hill, or if I’d fulfill my promise to Count Drugeth, but I was going to try.  I wasn’t ready to die, not yet.

Home Sweet Home

I waved her [maid] off.  I was already lost in my own thoughts and didn't want to be bothered with formalities.  Besides, there lingered my half finished book.  The truth was staring at me as the past spilled out line-by-line and permanently soaked in the parchment.  I could burn it, bury it or even hide it away, but I could never erase it.  I just wished the others had come to the same epiphany before their deaths.  Since I was the last, I was going to purge it all upon the page and give it to Count Drugeth.  He could do with it as he pleased.  Perhaps, set it a fire or drown it six feet under.  Even conceal it in a tomb, but whatever precaution taken it could never be destroyed.  I knew that now.  Why...why couldn't the past just be forgotten?  For the basic reason that it happened.  Whether we liked it or not, evidence of our lives was in every little crack.  Superstitions were embedded in the stone and crumpled in the dirt.  I could sense it.  It was the uneasy feeling I got when a strong wind blew, or the tingle I felt when my hair stood on end.  It's that little something that nags.

Uncovering Issacher

After the last trunk was secure, Nicholas led us to a giant crate that had ropes tied to all four corners.  He opened a hinged door on the side.  Reluctantly, I stepped in.  The deckhands hoisted the box making sure first to clear the railing of the ship before lowering it down toward the boats.  The box swung viciously as the deckhands tugged, maneuvering the box over the side of the ship.  I shut my eyes fearing the box would plunge into the canal, but not seeing added to my disorientation and only made me feel more nauseous.  I tightened my grip as we swayed like bait suspended above the water.  The motion from the ship churned the water into thick gravy making the clear blue look more like sewage.  It was utterly distasteful, and I could taste the wine and fruit I just consumed push up into my throat. 

Reviews for Dandelions In The Garden by Charlie Courtland

Barnes & Noble and Goodreads Customer Reviews

Reader Rating 5 stars

"You will love and hate the characters. Each chapter draws you in further waiting to see what happens. Wanting, wishing, hoping, can not wait to read on. The seamy side of the 1600, to the intrigue of upper class life style. A hard to put down book of love and lust and living. Best read in a long time."

"Great Read !!! Set back in 1600 Vienna. Amara Borbala in her own words tells of her adventures with the infamous Countess Elizabeth Bathory. As the story unfolds, you are privy to the thoughts of Amara as an impressionable girl: traveling back and forth through time with Amara as an aging, lonely women. Amara: knowing she is at the end of her life, has a personal need that the truth be told, so she sets about the task of penning her story. Funny, exciting, mysterious. I could not put this book down. From start to finish a page turner."

"Wonderful new writer!! Loved every page. Amara and Elizabeth come to life as true characters. Can not wait for the next book in this series "The Hidden Will of the Dragon."

"Great Read. Best historical fiction I have read in a long time. This new writer has the gift. Gripping tale of Amara and Elizabeth set in 1600 Vienna. Story of love, lust, sorrow, cruelty, some vivid sexual encounters and bloody battle scenes. Definitely for the mature reader. Keeps you wanting more... Amara returns to finish her tale in the sequel "The Hidden Will of the Dragon" I can't Wait...."

"Loved the lust, intrigue, and boldness.... Great character strong willed Elizabeth: Amara is the perfect companion and story teller. I have always been fascinated with Bram Stokers Dracula. This is a new twist to the events of that area. Appreciated having females as the dark characters in a story. Truly enjoyed evey page."

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