pistol in his palm. ‘ Très amusant ,’ he sneered as he checked it was loaded.
‘And on that subject, as much as I admire your brave sartorial efforts,’ Nathan continued, indicating the chevalier’s waistcoat, ‘I have to point out that stripes are doing you no favours. They’re merciless with a frame such as yours.’
Isabella’s eyes went wide as the chevalier cocked his pistol and levelled it at Nathan. The boy’s reaction was so quick it was almost invisible: suddenly his rapier was drawn, there was a flash of steel – then the pistol was whipped out of the chevalier’s grasp; it flew up into the air and landed firmly in Nathan’s hand.
‘Let’s go!’ he shouted as he leaped onto his handsome black mare. He grabbed Isabella’s hand and pulled her up behind him.
‘ Arrêtez! Voleur !’ the chevalier bellowed as they tore off across the field. Within seconds he’d scrambled onto his own beast and was charging in pursuit.
‘Hold on tight!’ Nathan shouted back to his companion as he galloped along the narrow path that cut through the dense conifer wood.
A huge branch emerged out of the dawn mist right in front of them. ‘Nathan, watch out!’ Isabella yelled.
Nathan fired the pistol, and the offending branch was obliterated. They rode on at full speed. Nathan tossed away the gun, its cartridge spent.
The red-cheeked chevalier whipped his horse savagely until he was edging abreast of his prey. Nathan drew his sword again and checked his perfect white teeth in the glinting blade before turning to the chevalier. As both horses hurtled onwards, the two riders clashed swords, their blades flashing like lightning in the early morning sun. Isabella gasped , shielding herself from the whipping branches of the passing trees.
‘I should warn you,’ Nathan teased his adversary, ‘I haven’t lost a fencing bout since I was eight. And that was to the Chevalier d’Éon, considered by many to be the greatest swordsman in history. The odds are not on your side, my friend.’
With this, he delivered the decisive blow. Boucicault reeled, and there was an almighty clunk as his head collided with a thick branch. He flew through the air and landed with a thump on his derrière.
‘ Adieu, mon ami ,’ Nathan shouted, sheathing his sword. ‘And once more – it’s 1820, my friend: sleek is no longer a preference; it’s a requirement.’
Half an hour later they stopped on a rocky outcrop suspended above the sea, where a local man was waiting with a carriage. Nathan dismounted, helped Isabella down and went to speak to him. For a moment he chatted jovially in broken French, then handed over his horse and a number of gold coins and returned to Isabella.
‘Jacques here will take you back to your family in Milan. So this, as they say, is farewell.’
‘But, Nathan,’ Isabella pleaded, tears welling up in her eyes, ‘I don’t understand! Can’t I come with you?’
‘No can do, I’m afraid.’ The soft Charleston twang in Nathan’s voice was clearer now. ‘I start work in an hour.’
‘What is this silly job you do, anyway?’ Isabella pouted. ‘This big secret of yours …?’
Nathan took a deep breath, but chose not to reply. He kissed her on the forehead. ‘You’ll get over me sooner than you think,’ he said – and there was a hint of sadness in his eyes.
‘Nathan, I love you,’ Isabella told him.
‘And I love an adventure!’ he replied – then charged towards the cliff edge and dived, arms outstretched on either side, into the ocean.
Isabella watched in amazement, tears glistening on her cheeks, as he swam out into the mist.
The horizon was beginning to blush with dawn indigos and pinks when Jake awoke to the smell of freshly baked bread. A plate of croissants, still steaming, lay on the deck next to him.
‘No doubt you feel like death …?’ a voice commented.
It was Charlie. He was looking out to sea with a telescope. ‘Atomium leaves you groggy at the best of times,
‘And on that subject, as much as I admire your brave sartorial efforts,’ Nathan continued, indicating the chevalier’s waistcoat, ‘I have to point out that stripes are doing you no favours. They’re merciless with a frame such as yours.’
Isabella’s eyes went wide as the chevalier cocked his pistol and levelled it at Nathan. The boy’s reaction was so quick it was almost invisible: suddenly his rapier was drawn, there was a flash of steel – then the pistol was whipped out of the chevalier’s grasp; it flew up into the air and landed firmly in Nathan’s hand.
‘Let’s go!’ he shouted as he leaped onto his handsome black mare. He grabbed Isabella’s hand and pulled her up behind him.
‘ Arrêtez! Voleur !’ the chevalier bellowed as they tore off across the field. Within seconds he’d scrambled onto his own beast and was charging in pursuit.
‘Hold on tight!’ Nathan shouted back to his companion as he galloped along the narrow path that cut through the dense conifer wood.
A huge branch emerged out of the dawn mist right in front of them. ‘Nathan, watch out!’ Isabella yelled.
Nathan fired the pistol, and the offending branch was obliterated. They rode on at full speed. Nathan tossed away the gun, its cartridge spent.
The red-cheeked chevalier whipped his horse savagely until he was edging abreast of his prey. Nathan drew his sword again and checked his perfect white teeth in the glinting blade before turning to the chevalier. As both horses hurtled onwards, the two riders clashed swords, their blades flashing like lightning in the early morning sun. Isabella gasped , shielding herself from the whipping branches of the passing trees.
‘I should warn you,’ Nathan teased his adversary, ‘I haven’t lost a fencing bout since I was eight. And that was to the Chevalier d’Éon, considered by many to be the greatest swordsman in history. The odds are not on your side, my friend.’
With this, he delivered the decisive blow. Boucicault reeled, and there was an almighty clunk as his head collided with a thick branch. He flew through the air and landed with a thump on his derrière.
‘ Adieu, mon ami ,’ Nathan shouted, sheathing his sword. ‘And once more – it’s 1820, my friend: sleek is no longer a preference; it’s a requirement.’
Half an hour later they stopped on a rocky outcrop suspended above the sea, where a local man was waiting with a carriage. Nathan dismounted, helped Isabella down and went to speak to him. For a moment he chatted jovially in broken French, then handed over his horse and a number of gold coins and returned to Isabella.
‘Jacques here will take you back to your family in Milan. So this, as they say, is farewell.’
‘But, Nathan,’ Isabella pleaded, tears welling up in her eyes, ‘I don’t understand! Can’t I come with you?’
‘No can do, I’m afraid.’ The soft Charleston twang in Nathan’s voice was clearer now. ‘I start work in an hour.’
‘What is this silly job you do, anyway?’ Isabella pouted. ‘This big secret of yours …?’
Nathan took a deep breath, but chose not to reply. He kissed her on the forehead. ‘You’ll get over me sooner than you think,’ he said – and there was a hint of sadness in his eyes.
‘Nathan, I love you,’ Isabella told him.
‘And I love an adventure!’ he replied – then charged towards the cliff edge and dived, arms outstretched on either side, into the ocean.
Isabella watched in amazement, tears glistening on her cheeks, as he swam out into the mist.
The horizon was beginning to blush with dawn indigos and pinks when Jake awoke to the smell of freshly baked bread. A plate of croissants, still steaming, lay on the deck next to him.
‘No doubt you feel like death …?’ a voice commented.
It was Charlie. He was looking out to sea with a telescope. ‘Atomium leaves you groggy at the best of times,
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