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| The gatehouse at Chepstow Castle built by William Marshal. |
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| Chepstow Castle on the River Wye. |
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| Marshal's Tower at Chepstow Castle. |
Sunday 27 October 2013
Capture The Castle
Sunday 20 October 2013
Quote Me
“You pierce my soul.
I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious
feelings are gone forever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more
your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not
say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I
have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have
been, but never inconstant.”
Jane Austen, Persuasion
“I would sooner let
my beard grow to my waist and eat potatoes in Siberia.”
Tsar Alexander I
“Her mother was pecked
to death by pigeons.”
“That happens,”
Alexei said with a nod.
Both Harry and
Sebastian looked over at him in shock.
“It is not
accidental,” Alexei demurred.
“I may need to
revisit my desire to see Russia,” Sebastian said.
“Swift justice,”
Alexei stated. “It is the only way.”
Harry couldn’t
believe he was asking, but it had to be said. “Pigeons are swift?”
Alexi shrugged, quite
possibly the least clipped and precise gesture Harry had seen him make. “Justice is swift. The punishment, not so much.”
Julia Quinn, What Happens in London
“Do you think,
because I am poor, obscure, plain and little, I am soulless and heartless? You
think wrong! - I have as much soul as you, - and full as much heart! And if God
had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard
for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you!”
Charlotte Bronte, Jane Eyre
“Hello Eyeore,” said Christopher
Robin, as he opened the door and came out. “How are you?”
“It’s snowing still,”
said Eyeore gloomily.
“So it is.”
“And freezing.”
“Is it?”
“Yes,” said Eyeore. “However,”
he said brightening up a little, “We haven’t had an earthquake lately.”
A.A. Milne, The House at Pooh Corner
Sunday 13 October 2013
Morning Shadows III...
And oh look there’s
some more.
With her witness stowed in the back of a black-and-white with a couple of uniforms as his babysitters, Isobel was finally able to walk onto her crime scene. She strode past the privacy screens with a calm confidence that belied her earlier fragility. Whilst Thorne had pried into territory she considered deeply personal, she recognised that she had been the one to screw up. And she hated screwing up. Still, she wasn’t going to have a hissy fit about it. She would do her job, which is what she really should have been doing before.
“What do we have Nicole?” Her voice was brisk and level as she addressed the medical examiner. With her gaze steady she nodded an acknowledgement at Thorne.
“What happened to you? I didn’t know you were wrestling tigers as well as thieves and murderers now.” Isobel touched an absentminded finger to the scratch that decorated her jaw-line.
“The guy’s a possible witness. He looked more upset when I told him that he fights like a girl than when I charged him for assaulting an officer.”
“Huh. Men.” The doctor gave an amused snort as she wrote something on her clipboard. To Isobel Dr Nicole Allen was not only the most meticulous medical examiner in the city, she was also a good friend. Of a similar age they shared the same ambition that had driven their professional success. They had also shared many shots of tequila after shift whilst discussing mayhem, murder and men. On the surface, however, they couldn’t have been more different. Nicole flaunted her femininity and then proceeded to knock a man senseless with it. Despite the early hour her cosmetics were still applied with precision. She wore one of her typically short and bold suits, the matching skirt and jacket in an eye-popping red. Her hair was pulled back into a high sleek tail that swung as she spoke.
“This one’s pretty straight forward and neat as far as deaths go. Our victim is a white female in her mid twenties. She was strangled, I’d say probably by a man just from eyeballing the size of the marks around her neck. Time of death is between 1am and 3am. Apart from the cause of death this was a pretty and healthy young woman. There are no obvious defensive marks on the body and her fingernails are clean.”
“She knew him.” Isobel stated the unspoken conclusion as she crouched beside the prone body to get a closer look. “She’d been on a date – probably a second or third date – so she felt comfortable enough that she wouldn’t think twice about turning her back on him.” Her shoulders tightened as she felt Thorne’s watchful assessment. She swallowed back her irritation and endeavoured to verbalise her instinctive reasoning. “She’s wearing fuck-me heels. They’re the kind of shoe that a woman wears if she knows she’ll be shimmying out of that dress at some point during the evening. A first date is about impressions and she’d already decided what she thought of him and was going to act on it.”
“And since when were you such an authority on shoes?” Nicole glanced at Isobel’s battered and ugly boots with wry amusement.
“I interviewed this guy once on an old case. He had an outrageous collection of shoes that he’d ‘borrowed’ from women. It was quite an education.”
Ghoulish banter was an accepted part of crime scene procedure, a necessary tool to keep any kind of perspective. Thorne was, however, uncharacteristically subdued as he addressed the gathered personnel.
“She’s the daughter of a senator. There’s going to be a lot of pressure to solve this one fast and the media will be sure to get in our faces about it.” Stern and charismatic he made sure everyone heard and understood him. “I don’t want any leaks. There are always concerns about sensitive information in cases such as these. I don’t want to give them any rope with which to hang us. We will do our jobs efficiently and with due consideration.”
Isobel stood, stepping forward to speak. Usually the first to protest against the interference of politics in an investigation, she surprised them both by presenting a united front.
“Whatever we might think about these measures, a young woman is dead. It is for her that we stand now and we owe it to her to do a good job and find justice.” Isobel’s eyes met Thorne’s fleetingly as they stood shrouded in the morning shadows and together kept guard over the dead.
With her witness stowed in the back of a black-and-white with a couple of uniforms as his babysitters, Isobel was finally able to walk onto her crime scene. She strode past the privacy screens with a calm confidence that belied her earlier fragility. Whilst Thorne had pried into territory she considered deeply personal, she recognised that she had been the one to screw up. And she hated screwing up. Still, she wasn’t going to have a hissy fit about it. She would do her job, which is what she really should have been doing before.
“What do we have Nicole?” Her voice was brisk and level as she addressed the medical examiner. With her gaze steady she nodded an acknowledgement at Thorne.
“What happened to you? I didn’t know you were wrestling tigers as well as thieves and murderers now.” Isobel touched an absentminded finger to the scratch that decorated her jaw-line.
“The guy’s a possible witness. He looked more upset when I told him that he fights like a girl than when I charged him for assaulting an officer.”
“Huh. Men.” The doctor gave an amused snort as she wrote something on her clipboard. To Isobel Dr Nicole Allen was not only the most meticulous medical examiner in the city, she was also a good friend. Of a similar age they shared the same ambition that had driven their professional success. They had also shared many shots of tequila after shift whilst discussing mayhem, murder and men. On the surface, however, they couldn’t have been more different. Nicole flaunted her femininity and then proceeded to knock a man senseless with it. Despite the early hour her cosmetics were still applied with precision. She wore one of her typically short and bold suits, the matching skirt and jacket in an eye-popping red. Her hair was pulled back into a high sleek tail that swung as she spoke.
“This one’s pretty straight forward and neat as far as deaths go. Our victim is a white female in her mid twenties. She was strangled, I’d say probably by a man just from eyeballing the size of the marks around her neck. Time of death is between 1am and 3am. Apart from the cause of death this was a pretty and healthy young woman. There are no obvious defensive marks on the body and her fingernails are clean.”
“She knew him.” Isobel stated the unspoken conclusion as she crouched beside the prone body to get a closer look. “She’d been on a date – probably a second or third date – so she felt comfortable enough that she wouldn’t think twice about turning her back on him.” Her shoulders tightened as she felt Thorne’s watchful assessment. She swallowed back her irritation and endeavoured to verbalise her instinctive reasoning. “She’s wearing fuck-me heels. They’re the kind of shoe that a woman wears if she knows she’ll be shimmying out of that dress at some point during the evening. A first date is about impressions and she’d already decided what she thought of him and was going to act on it.”
“And since when were you such an authority on shoes?” Nicole glanced at Isobel’s battered and ugly boots with wry amusement.
“I interviewed this guy once on an old case. He had an outrageous collection of shoes that he’d ‘borrowed’ from women. It was quite an education.”
Ghoulish banter was an accepted part of crime scene procedure, a necessary tool to keep any kind of perspective. Thorne was, however, uncharacteristically subdued as he addressed the gathered personnel.
“She’s the daughter of a senator. There’s going to be a lot of pressure to solve this one fast and the media will be sure to get in our faces about it.” Stern and charismatic he made sure everyone heard and understood him. “I don’t want any leaks. There are always concerns about sensitive information in cases such as these. I don’t want to give them any rope with which to hang us. We will do our jobs efficiently and with due consideration.”
Isobel stood, stepping forward to speak. Usually the first to protest against the interference of politics in an investigation, she surprised them both by presenting a united front.
“Whatever we might think about these measures, a young woman is dead. It is for her that we stand now and we owe it to her to do a good job and find justice.” Isobel’s eyes met Thorne’s fleetingly as they stood shrouded in the morning shadows and together kept guard over the dead.
Sunday 6 October 2013
Morning Shadows II...
There wasn’t supposed
to be a continuation of this story as the first part seemed to me to form a neat
unit on its own. Yet I found myself writing more and so more there will be.
Isobel was kneeling over the suspect and securing the cuffs around his wrists by the time she heard Thorne’s hand-made Italian shoes beating a path towards them. The expensive leather was scuffed and soiled, and knowing how much this would bother him she felt mildly appeased. Though she hadn’t welcomed his interference, she grudgingly admitted to herself that his timely intervention had prevented her from losing the suspect. As she yanked the man none too gently to his feet she shot a conciliatory smile in Thorne’s direction. She was surprised to see an answering bite of temper hardening his features.
“What the fuck was that?” She fought hard not to recoil from the sharp edge of his anger. “What the fuck was that Isobel? You hare off after a suspect – who could have been armed – without alerting your partner. You put not only your own life at risk, but also the security of this case, through your recklessness.”
This was why getting entangled with another cop was a mistake, she reminded herself, it made every damn thing sticky by association.
“Back off Thorne. Just because we did the naked tango once it doesn’t give you the right to –”
“This has nothing to do with any personal feelings I may have held for you and everything to do with your ability as a cop.” Panic hit her like a bucket of frozen water. Mind blank she released her grip on the witness and swallowed back the bile that scratched at her throat. The reprimand was a threat to her very identity. If they took her badge then she didn’t know what would be left. “The Brass considered pulling you off this case, you know. They’ve heard about your erratic behaviour these past weeks. You’re not doing the job anymore. You’re jumpy and unfocused. Reckless. You hesitate before walking onto a crime scene.” Her ears were buzzing and she found herself unable to form a defence. “Your last big case was tough, I get it. But if you continue to refuse to see the department shrink and then go out there and mess it up, then you’re just asking to be pulled off active duty.”
“Thorne, I –” She hated the tremble in her voice that came from desperation. He had pulled the rug from under her feet by giving her a dressing down in front of a suspect and at a crime scene. Yet she felt the impact of his words more because she knew that he was right.
“The Captain and I, we went to bat for you Isobel. Don’t make me regret my decision.” There was nothing easygoing or charming about him now as he pinned her with a hard stare. He rarely flaunted his position and authority, but now she felt the full weight of it. “For now we’ll just pretend that we’re so in tune that I saw your signal to back you up. But if you pull a stunt like that again I’m not going to bother protecting your ass. Understood?”
He didn’t even bother to wait for her answer, turning abruptly on a smart heel and striding away, confident that he had made his point. For a moment she could only watch his back impotently. She felt shaken and vulnerable after having her weakness laid out before her. She wanted to ball her hands into fists and curse him in fury, but she felt only the empty ache of being in the wrong.
She was a cop first and foremost though, so she would pull it together and bring in her witness.
“Son of a bitch.” She huffed a weary sigh as she noticed that the witness had taken advantage of Thorne’s lecture and was creeping slowly away in an attempt at escape. “Take another step moron and I’ll shoot you in the leg and it’ll be the last painless step you take for quite a while. I’m in a real pisser of a mood right now, so don’t doubt that I’ll do it.” That made him pause. Marching over she secured him in a strong grip.
“Your boyfriend slapped you around good and proper back there.” He tried for sympathy, his smile marred by blood stained teeth. “My mama always said that’s no way to talk to a lady.” He had conveniently forgotten his own choice words for her several minutes before.
“Save it Romeo.” She managed to muster up a sneer, despite the dull throb in her leg that was beginning to make itself known. Pride was the only thing that stopped her limping away from the dirty alley and after Thorne.
Isobel was kneeling over the suspect and securing the cuffs around his wrists by the time she heard Thorne’s hand-made Italian shoes beating a path towards them. The expensive leather was scuffed and soiled, and knowing how much this would bother him she felt mildly appeased. Though she hadn’t welcomed his interference, she grudgingly admitted to herself that his timely intervention had prevented her from losing the suspect. As she yanked the man none too gently to his feet she shot a conciliatory smile in Thorne’s direction. She was surprised to see an answering bite of temper hardening his features.
“What the fuck was that?” She fought hard not to recoil from the sharp edge of his anger. “What the fuck was that Isobel? You hare off after a suspect – who could have been armed – without alerting your partner. You put not only your own life at risk, but also the security of this case, through your recklessness.”
This was why getting entangled with another cop was a mistake, she reminded herself, it made every damn thing sticky by association.
“Back off Thorne. Just because we did the naked tango once it doesn’t give you the right to –”
“This has nothing to do with any personal feelings I may have held for you and everything to do with your ability as a cop.” Panic hit her like a bucket of frozen water. Mind blank she released her grip on the witness and swallowed back the bile that scratched at her throat. The reprimand was a threat to her very identity. If they took her badge then she didn’t know what would be left. “The Brass considered pulling you off this case, you know. They’ve heard about your erratic behaviour these past weeks. You’re not doing the job anymore. You’re jumpy and unfocused. Reckless. You hesitate before walking onto a crime scene.” Her ears were buzzing and she found herself unable to form a defence. “Your last big case was tough, I get it. But if you continue to refuse to see the department shrink and then go out there and mess it up, then you’re just asking to be pulled off active duty.”
“Thorne, I –” She hated the tremble in her voice that came from desperation. He had pulled the rug from under her feet by giving her a dressing down in front of a suspect and at a crime scene. Yet she felt the impact of his words more because she knew that he was right.
“The Captain and I, we went to bat for you Isobel. Don’t make me regret my decision.” There was nothing easygoing or charming about him now as he pinned her with a hard stare. He rarely flaunted his position and authority, but now she felt the full weight of it. “For now we’ll just pretend that we’re so in tune that I saw your signal to back you up. But if you pull a stunt like that again I’m not going to bother protecting your ass. Understood?”
He didn’t even bother to wait for her answer, turning abruptly on a smart heel and striding away, confident that he had made his point. For a moment she could only watch his back impotently. She felt shaken and vulnerable after having her weakness laid out before her. She wanted to ball her hands into fists and curse him in fury, but she felt only the empty ache of being in the wrong.
She was a cop first and foremost though, so she would pull it together and bring in her witness.
“Son of a bitch.” She huffed a weary sigh as she noticed that the witness had taken advantage of Thorne’s lecture and was creeping slowly away in an attempt at escape. “Take another step moron and I’ll shoot you in the leg and it’ll be the last painless step you take for quite a while. I’m in a real pisser of a mood right now, so don’t doubt that I’ll do it.” That made him pause. Marching over she secured him in a strong grip.
“Your boyfriend slapped you around good and proper back there.” He tried for sympathy, his smile marred by blood stained teeth. “My mama always said that’s no way to talk to a lady.” He had conveniently forgotten his own choice words for her several minutes before.
“Save it Romeo.” She managed to muster up a sneer, despite the dull throb in her leg that was beginning to make itself known. Pride was the only thing that stopped her limping away from the dirty alley and after Thorne.
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