Authors Note:
Dear readers. I began this chapter last year and due to one thing and another, I have only just got around to finishing it off. So, to recap, in Ghost Writer chapter 3, our two main characters Janneke and Kachina, in an effort to complete their mission for Odin, fell into a gap between worlds, tumbling through time and space. We know that they meet again in present day as Jan and Kasper, drawn together through the blood bond that was cast by Kachina. We will now see how the pair have been drawn to each other all the way through history as the lost souls freefall through time and space.
I have tried to keep this as close as possible to known historical characters, apart from Vivant and her family, alas she is fictional. Philippe, Louis, and the other named nobles did exist, and I have attempted to weave my tale around them.
Versailles
The year is 1676, Louis XIV resides in Versailles and France, together with its English and German allies has been at war with the Dutch Republic since 1672. France had been locking antlers with the Netherlands ever since the War of Devolution 1667, where they had been pressurised to return the lands gained, by the Triple Alliance of the Republic, England and Sweden. Louis XIV, angered by losing his claim to the Country of Burgundy, managed to break apart the alliance and forge one of his own to ravage the Dutch Republic.
While Louis was a charismatic leader, he was sadly, not a brilliant soldier and had relied heavily on his younger brother Philippe to lead his army. Philippe was a natural leader and soldier, and it was because of his success as a military commander in the War of Devolution, in which Philippe I, Duke of Orleans led the French armies against the Spanish Netherlands, he came to lead the French army against the Dutch forces of William III of Orange.
Our story begins here, in a field littered with the detritus of war, where a chance happening can bring two lost souls together. Philippe is about to lead the final charge against a beaten and demoralised force. His horse, an elegant white stallion, paws at the turf as it eagers for the run. If only it knew what lay ahead, it may not be so eager.
The accumulated reserves of cavalry pause, awaiting the order, as Phillippe signals for one last barrage.
A thunder clap of cannon chases across the scarred medow towards the cowering soldiers, who must know that defeat and death are imminent.
"For France."
Phillippe calls. His sabre glinting in the afternoon sunlight.
"For King Louis."
The sabre drops and three hundred men and horse launch towards victory, and in some cases, death.
The horse's hooves conjure further rumbles of thunder as they race down the hillside towards the cluster of foot soldiers gathered about an orange banner.
From the remaining handful of Ditch troops, puffs of smoke rise from muskets as a volley is hurled towards the charge.
The cavalry isn't heavily armoured. Their purpose is to run across the flanks of a troop and remove slices of a defensive force, as anyone else may remove the peel from an orange.
The rider to Philippe's left vanishes from his mount as he is struck by a heavy lead shot. The now rider less horse spooks sideways, cutting across the front of Phillippe's stallion. For a brief second the commander's horse is wrong footed and it swerves. A heartbeat later and instead of running across the Dutch flank, Phillippe and a small handful of his honour guard, crash headlong into the Dutch formation.
With the French commander in their midst the Dutch rally, knowing that if Phillippe falls then the day could be regained. Completely surrounded, Phillippe is dangerously vulnerable. He tries to stay mobile, urging his mount in to circles whilst he and his retinue fight for their lives.
Of the French cavalry that managed to ride on, a young chevalière riding a steel grey mare,
realizes the troop is without its commander and glances back.
A knot of Dutch troops surround a cluster of horses, their forward progress impeded by the defensive lines. In the middle of the cluster a tall white stallion, its hide stained pink. Atop the horse Phillippe lays about him, his blade no longer reflecting sunlight, but shedding drops of red rain, desperation etched on his face.
The chevalière circles across the front of the remaining French cavalry and leads a one-horse charge. Its rider screaming insults and obscenities as a sabre cuts across the rear of the Dutch footmen.
As I have already mentioned, the role of light cavalry isn't to make holes. It plays hit and run. Which is exactly what the chevalière did, cutting back and forth each pass in a different place, creating havoc and death.
With the Dutch hurled in to a state of confusion, Phillippe breaks free, the remaining handful of his guard following, and they join with the chevalière.
With the Duke once again leading the cavalry the Dutch force collapses and the battle is over barring the screams of the dying and bleeding of the yet to die.
***
Vivant Manco of Orleans was from a minor noble family. The rank that was only bestowed upon them from the fact that a forefather had served Marie De Medici. He had been a member of her escort from Italy to France when she married Henry IV, binding France and Italy as closely as the families of the House of Bourbon and Vivant's family, the Manco's of Tuscany.
Vivant's farther, Alessiandro, had served Louis XIII, and now Vivant served another Louis.
Through the years the Manco family had survived. They were richer than the poor, but a lot poorer than the rich. Vivant's fellow soldiers all had better armour, better horses. Some even had their own banners carried by their Retainers.
Vivant Manco had the armour and sword that had belonged to Alessiandro, and a horse that had been self-trained for battle. What Vivant did have that most others didn't, was skill in abundance. Alessiandro had been a natural swordsman, and that skill had been nurtured and had blossomed in Vivant.
Vivant also carried a secret. He was in reality, a she.
Alessiandro and his wife, Marie, had only one child, a sturdy dark haired girl. Marie had passed while Vivant was still a child, and was raised by her father in the only way he knew how. By the way of the blade.
When Vivant's father died, she had been left with a farm that was in ruin and no funds with which to repair it. Her mother's brother had tried to force her in to marriage with his son, a drunken good-for-nothing man she despised. So faced with that proposal, she had run away dressed in her father's armour and joined Phillippe's army. That in itself had been easy, she had caught up with the marching force and simply introduced herself to one of the cavalry officers as Chevalière Manco and shown her father's signet that she now wore. The ring in itself wasn't full proof of her nobility, but she had chosen carefully, and approached an officer who had served with her father. Safely invisible amongst the troops, Vivant hide her true nature by using linin wrapping to flatten her small breasts and keeping to herself.
Now with the Battle of Cassel over, and Vivant being heralded as a hero, the chevalière was trying to stay inconspicuous by tending to her horse, Sleet.
