...to see his crooked nose once more....

New transitional paragraphs added this evening. This speaks of the woman slain in an earlier post. The entire civil war was triggered by the assassination of her husband, who had, in his time, been a torturer and thorough villain. At this point y'all know that she too was assassinated. Perversely, his death with its immense political consequences, was a purely individual vendetta while hers, which does not change all that much except for adding more chaos, was a pointedly political act.

She missed him, even as she knew many ... rejoiced to see him gone. A widow’s life is lonely. There was Š., her joy and delight, but no prince to hold her in his arms at night, to kiss her neck or stroke her hair. She longed to see his crooked nose once more or look into his troubled green eyes but he was with [the Queen of the Dead] now and there was no coming back.

...

In the long summer afternoons P. stitched with ladies in waiting or strolled, with guards nearby, in the garden—never by herself yet always solitary.

I feel terribly sorry for her. If only she had lived at some other time (or been married to some other man). In the category of recurring themes that I write unconsciously, she manages to save her daughter even as she perishes. Her mother-in-law had done the same before her. I had not thought about that until just now. (Of course, there are only so many relationships and events for a storyteller to choose from. There will be items that recur, even if the subconscious is not busy. Had I planned this I would feel very clever, but instead of planning it I noticed it after the fact.)

Well, I learned today at jury duty orientation that I can take my laptop with me to jury duty. I will have to pay attention if being impaneled or during a trial, of course, but if I am just waiting around I can work on the novel. Tempting.

It's Friday Eve!

Sweet dreams, my frizzy little frittilaries!

--the BB