Horatio heard his stomach grumble as he scuffed down the corridor, followed by two drunken soldiers speaking of their relationships with local mademoiselles. These men were impervious to the fact about his fluency in French, not having witnessed his argument with Marquis de Muzillac at dinner. He had excused himself to stifle his temper, pacing the vandalized corridors where giggles emitted from dark corners. This exercise had only increased his hunger, doing nothing to calm him as he desired to taste fresh bread and fruits again.

Instead of dining on leftovers, he was being led to confer with the Marquis. He was reluctant to be in the court of the exiled noble, but there were no excuses for insubordination in the military and navy. He could not disgrace himself, not to mention his Captain and his shipmates, burdened with his personal fallibilities. He must endure whatever punishment was meted to him, even if it meant apologizing to the man which Archie had been correct to judge as more than daft.

Finally, he entered into the marble chamber, his escort slamming the scorched double doors. Into the chamber he inched, measuring the efforts to conceal dilapidated luxury. Tapestries concealed empty walls where masterpieces once hung, but he made no effort to imagine what grandeur had been lost to the flames of hatred. Many of these hangings were crimson and violet, but they were stained and slashed. The bases of marble statues surrounded the carpet with their nakedness stark against faded scarlet. These ruins preceded to lead him to the feather-stuffed monstrosity on which lay the Marquis in his dressing gown, his hair unbound.

The man spoke, his English snarled, �Ah, how kind of you to answer my invitation, Mister Hornblower. I believe you�ve had a bit of what you�d call a misunderstanding.�

Horatio trembled, the Marquis too apparent with his intentions as pudgy fingers curled around his matted tendrils. Did this man perceive him to be some toy with the youthful naivety? Yes, his understanding of human nature was wanting, but Archie had instructed him with his playful approach to life. His lover and beloved had suspected others may seek him for pleasure games, but he had been taught how to decline civil Englishmen who preferred to bed their own.

French aristocrats were another game, one in which submission was absolute whether one consented or not.

The Marquis giggled, lines cracking his painted face, �Are you speechless, Mister Hornblower? You had plenty to say earlier, but do you need something to open your mouth with now?�

Horatio paled, if that was possible for someone of his complexion, �My Lord, I, uh, apologize for my earlier insubordination and I, uh, will not permit it to happen again.�

The Marquis grinned as he creeped to the edge of the bed, �Why, I�m sure you could give a better verbal apology than that. Now, come closer and sit.�

Horatio swallowed as the Marquis arose, his gown swaying to the sides of his plum duff body to reveal his pointed tenderloin.

�Now, Mister Hornblower,� he continued. �Do you swallow of spit?�

Horatio could do little but drop his jaw as the Marquis removed his dressing gown, revealing the pox-marked ravage upon him.

�No doubt you�ve been called beautiful,� the Marquis giggled as he swayed nearer. �You�re a little scrawny, but you have some fight like a hyena!�

Onto Horatio came the Marquis, his feline smile exposed as he clawed his prey. One sleeve tore on his jacket, but Horatio resisted as any good Englishman should to the advances of the French. As his own desire to wrestle with Archie in the grass overwhelmed him, he felt sweaty palms upon his manhood. He raised his knobby right knee, debilitating the Marquis and his fearsome loin amid the grey forest. The Marquis buckled from the palatable hit, his face grotesque as he winced.

Horatio did not remain to be seduced by the madness of nobility. He stalked out of the marble chamber of horror, into the decrepit corridor where some rogue encrusted mademoiselles awaited with raised skirts in shadows. He winced at their toothless smiles, their insane laughter that chased him down the hallway. He bounded down the staircase, his mind focused on the beauty of Archie with his halo glinting in the sun.

Sweat trickled down his forehead as he descended the stairs, and it felt as though it seeped into the neck and armpits of his blue coat. His licked his dry lips as his heart throbbed in his head, not comprehending how battles did not distraught his body so. He may have moral dilemmas, but it had never manifested itself with the likes of trembling hands with clammy palms. He shook his head with this unfathomable situation he had plummeted into, only to be greeted by the brandy flecked eyes of the Major.

The Major leaned against the barren wall, his relaxed posture filled with military perfection. He eyebrows arched slightly as did the corners of his mouth, but nothing was overt by his expression. Archie had mentioned how this man must embrace the philosophy that in order to be master of one�s domain, one must master himself first. That was among worthwhile ideals, but it was not logical to Horatio when he must deceive the world about who fulfilled him in the void of night.

Finally, the Major spoke, his eyes cast toward the torn sleeve, �How has your evening fared, Mister Hornblower?�

Horatio was nervous, the feline eyes observing him, �I am well, My Lordship. Thank you. I, uh, I hope the said, uh, the same can be said for you, sir, My Lord.�

The Major spoke, his voice edged with haughtiness, �I find there�re are no diversions from our attack plans since the conversation is dull among the nobles here.�

Horatio contemplated, but could only think of jokes that his Captain told, �Well, better it�s Frenchmen than Englishmen who are such bad company, uh, pardon the saying, My Lord.�

The Major smiled, his eyes squintier, �There is great truth in that saying, Mister Hornblower.�

Within one eye blink, Horatio believed that triumph glinted in the eyes across from him as if the general was before his moment of glory. He grimaced at this thought, presuming to think of such ungentlemanly behavior in his steadfast superior! This man was thoroughly military, and noble to boot. Why would he bother with this unpolished clod who appeared as though he had just endured battle?

What was he thinking? He knew nothing of the Major, not even his first name. How could he presume he was being seduced by the man? He was exaggeration the exchange of pleasantries as the repression of lust! It was definite with the wanton Marquis, but never with the likes of the war-waging Major. He must not assume such things, and it would be best to forget them.

But now he needed to escape from the Major without insulting him, �Pardon me, My Lord, but I have business to attend to.�

The Major was nonchalant in his dismissal, only nodding to acknowledge his understanding as his eyes marched across Horatio.

Horatio sighed as he departed, desiring the safety of Archie, the comfort of combing his fingers through silken hair. But Archie must remain at the Bridge, securing it in the company of men who must not suspect the nature of their relationship. Here, amidst strangers, he needed to conceal his changeable offenses that felt exposed after the attentions of the Marquis and his affections for the Major. What solution existed to conceal and comfort his inevitable hardness?

He was desperate, knowing despicable action was required of him that Archie and him had employed for appearances. He had no money, considering it was invested in his current, now ruined, uniform. Without capital, what could he confer with? Certainly not with the strumpets who lingered in the square for soldiers under any flag, but he may find his security in the schoolhouse. He would be safe in her presence, seducing her with his sympathies that made it necessary to protect her from the soldiers. Perhaps she would have thread and needle to repair his coat in gratitude, but he must go to her first.

He must go to Mariette.