“How many dawns had she witnessed during the nineteen years she had spent incarcerated in this grim fortress in the foothills of the Pyrenees? It must be thousands. She had been a young woman in her early thirties when first brought here by her husband’s guards. Now she had turned fifty. The summer of her life was long gone, with only autumn and the winter of her days left to enjoy. A deep sadness enveloped her at the thought. Was she to spend her final seasons on this isolated rocky outcrop whe...re the damp gave her rheumatic pains, and her only solace the correspondence of old friends? How she had depended upon those. Were it not for the generosity of Mesdames de Nevers and Retz, not forgetting her beloved sister-in-law, Elizabeth of Austria, now sadly demised, Margot thought she might well have starved in this ancient Cathar stronghold. She had been married against her will, incarcerated twice, first in the Louvre following the Massacre of Saint Bartholomew, which had taken place within days of her wedding, and later here, in Usson.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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