Most Unusual Charm

Margaret Coates

Description

A Most Unusual Charm is the first in the 'Barrecombe' series. It begins in the seventeenth century in Istanbul's Grand Bazaar, when a mother's love for her young daughter, causes her, in a moment of distraction, to let go of her hand. The consequence of the girl's disappearance sets up a chain of events destined to be played out, again and again through the ages, as history repeats itself. The story follows the journey of a silver bracelet, with a ten-pointed star charm, as it travels from the city of Istanbul to a small medieval manor, Barrecombe Hall, on the coast of Dorset, England.Those who come to possess the bracelet, either bask in its magic or cannot escape its curse, depending on how the bracelet came into their ownership: by right or by stealth. Those who become merely caretakers learn nothing ofthe bracelet'sbenevolent or deadly charm.The story begins when a servant girl escapes from certain death, with the bracelet, thinking it was hers to takeA Most Unusual Charm ends in the early twentieth century, when a mother, out of love for her dying daughter, makes her a promise - one she knows will be impossible to keep.The second book in the series, A Most Unusual Gift, continues in the twenty first century, when a dying mother, gives her daughter the silver bracelet with a ten-pointed star charm

Sujets

• Historical fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 07 mai 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781800465824
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 3 Mo

Extrait

Copyright © 2021 Margaret Coates

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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For my ever-growing family


Contents
1
Ayla
2
Mahlika
3
Boran
4
The House of Raschid
5
Bella
6
Josephine
7
Marianne
8
Francis
9
Istanbul Qitar
10
Barrecombe Josephine - Ten Years Later
11
The Half Brothers
12
Beatrice Seymour
13
Eliza Seymour
14
Nathaniel Drake.
15
The Turret Tower
16
Joseph Drake
17
The Drake Sisters


17th Century Istanbul
The House of Ephiram

Prince Ephiram
Princess Eres - his daughter
Raschid- a manservant
Ayla - a servant girl
Hamide - a housekeeper
Libken - heir to the House of Ephiram
Feyei - his son


The village of Oterak

Mahlika - Ayla’s cousin
Doruk - a young man in love with Mahlika
Ju - a travelling knife sharpener
Ihsam - a traveller
Nadir – her young son
Boran - her baby son


The House of Raschid

Raschid,
Serra - his daughter
Hussef, Tariq and Qitar- his sons
Neylan and Makmou - Hussef’s sons


1
Ayla
Long ago, in the Turkish city of Istanbul, it so happened that a mother’s love for her young daughter, Ayla, gave rise to an ever-repeating story of passion, greed and betrayal - a story that was destined to be played out, again and again, throughout centuries yet to be given thought.
The mother, whose dearest wish was to buy Ayla a trinket for her eighth birthday, was momentarily distracted by a pretty bauble in the city’s Grand Bazaar. Ayla, becoming detached from the hand which usually held her in a vice like grip, found herself unexpectedly free. She made the most of her opportunity to roam at will amongst the noise and bustle of the bazaar’s many displays and entertainments, wandering from stall to stall in what she thought was the most exciting of places.
Lingering at a confectionery stall, where she contemplated for some time which candy she needed the most, she finally reached up and grabbed a handful of multicoloured sherbets. Savouring the delicious explosion of lemon and honey flavours, she almost choked when the large hand of the vendor, who had been watching her closely, held on to her more roughly than he had any right. He demanded payment and Ayla, who had no understanding of his request, did what all small children do. She began to wail for her mother, who was desperately searching for her amongst the crowds. Ayla became all the more distressed when a group of tradesmen from nearby stalls gathered round and loudly debated how to stem her tears.
Hearing the commotion, a manservant from the House of Ephiram strolled over to see what was amiss. He gently removed Ayla from her captor but kept her tightly bound to him. A heated exchange ensued between the manservant and the trader. Ferocious glares were exchanged, arms were waved, sleeves were tugged, but the sticky sweets, snatched away from the child, were soon returned to her when the vendor looked at his hand with disgust.
Realising she was being held against her will, Ayla panicked and did her best to free herself. She struggled and kicked, much to the amusement of the gathering crowd, and finding no release, bit Raschid, the manservant of the House of Ephiram, on the hand that held her, drawing his blood. The traders gasped, fully aware of the punishment that would befall her. The manservant licked his wound and swore at the child whilst tightening his hold. Nobody moved as the crowd held their breath, waiting expectantly to see what he would do next.
To everyone’s amazement, he reached for his purse in the layers of his robe and selected a number of coins, which he pushed into the hand of the stallholder, whose own fate was, at that very moment, precarious. For the first time in living memory, the stallholder made no attempt to haggle. The House of Ephiram was respected throughout the city. It would do no good to offend its manservant. There was no telling what Prince Ephiram would do if he discovered a member of his household had been so publicly disregarded. To be barred from trading would be a blessing compared to other calamities that could befall him. He took the offered coins and bowed respectfully. Raschid lifted the wriggling child onto his shoulder, turned on his heel and strode out of the bazaar to where he had tethered his horse.
Perhaps it was Ayla’s short hair and skinny body, or because she did not utter one coherent word, that Raschid took her for a street urchin. He slung her across his horse and made for home, rather than stopping to search for whoever she belonged to.
The journey to the Palace of Ephiram was long and hot. Ayla, exhausted by her attempt to free herself, soon gave up her futile struggle and was eventually lulled to sleep by the horse’s steady gait. When they arrived at the palace gates, Raschid lowered her, none too gently, to the ground and called for someone to see to his horse.
Wide awake, her fear momentarily forgotten, Ayla stared in awe at her surroundings. She had never seen such splendour. The forecourt was laid out in coloured tiles of all shapes and sizes, making pretty patterns. Tall trees, their thick branches bearing white and pink flowers, with leaves wider than platters, grew in prettily decorated pots. Streams of water shot into the air before cascading down into a fountain that never overflowed. Stone carvings of frogs and ducks were placed along its sides, intermingling with unusual, brightly coloured plants. She pinched herself to see if she was awake.
The man suddenly swept her up into his arms and carried her across a covered courtyard. There were even more pots containing even more beautiful flowers Ayla had never seen before. Some were tall with spiky flames of red and orange. Others were smaller, round and curvy, of softer pinks and purples. There were bluey green colours that shone and sparkled for which Ayla had no name.
It was so quiet. All Ayla could hear was the clack of the man’s footsteps as he carried her towards a large entrance and into the dark. A piercing shriek made her jump and, in her terror, she buried her face in her captor’s neck.
‘It’s only the bird,’ he told her.
The great moment of fear passed when Ayla saw long shutters keeping out the sun and the heat, making the room dark. An enormous, red headed parrot, with a green body, was hopping on its perch, still shrieking and calling out names. The man shouted at it to be quiet.
He nodded to a group of women as he walked past them. They were clustered around a little girl who was crying and they were gabbling words at her.
‘Tell the princess I have a gift for when she stops her crying,’ the man called to them.
A princess? Ayla began to think she was in a fairy story. She had read such things do happen.
As she was carried under an arch into a huge room, she glanced above at the coloured stone, studded with carved birds and twirling stems. Everywhere she looked was so like a grand palace.
A king was sitting at a desk and she was pushed in front of him. He was dressed in a fine robe with golden threads and wore a turban of red and gold, studded with bright jewels - like pictures of kings she had seen in her story books. Two black giants were fanning him with large paddles. She trembled when he frowned at her.
‘Who have we here?’ he asked in a loud voice. She tried to speak but no words came and she curled up her toes as she looked down at her feet.
‘The wretch was caught stealing in the bazaar,’ the man said. ‘I thought he would do better here than suffer a whipping. We can surely find work for him in the stables.’
The kin