Sample Pages: Defying the Setting Sun (Historical Fiction)

[Ben Henderson]

The sample pages include a brief foreword and the opening scene, which introduces the protagonist, primary conflict, tone, and setting. It also foreshadows the pending conflict with the antagonist.

Foreword:

Ida Pfeiffer should not require any introduction, but sadly, this intrepid explorer’s legacy has been lost. In a time when unaccompanied women did not travel, Frau Pfeiffer became the first woman to circumnavigate the world alone, not once but twice, by 1855. 

Very few figures in the entire history of mankind can claim to have squeezed more from life than Ida managed in just 15 years. Her travels spanned 170,000 miles during an era where vast frontiers still lay hidden away from the unstoppable force of the Industrial Revolution. Her work identifying and collecting thousands of specimens and artifacts from all over the world won acclaim amongst the highest circles of the scientific community. Not only was Ida the first female inducted into the Berlin and Paris Geographical Societies, but her story inspired fans from San Francisco to Rome and from Cape Town to London. Even royalty vied to meet the Viennese housewife who rewrote her own destiny to become something extraordinary. But her star did not always burn so brightly. Ida began in 1842 with a simple dream and a burning desire that held little hope of ever coming true. 

 

Chapter 1: Out of Darkness 

11 March 1858

Mauritius, Africa 

My fever has broken, but it will be back. It always comes back. Each time, its torments are more difficult to endure. I feel the exhaustion of Job, even closing my fingers around the pen. However, I still have so much to confess, and it is unlikely that I will survive the malaria long enough to return to Vienna.

I cannot help but marvel at how far this once naïve housewife has come since setting sail down the Danube sixteen years ago. I had already lived a lifetime before I boarded the Maria Anna, yet had no inkling of the dormant power coiled within my breast. Now, at sixty, I am still exploring the extent of that serpent’s reach, which has catapulted me around the world, not once but twice. I have convinced cannibals that my flesh is too old and tough to eat, sailed through cannon fire in the Orient, and challenged the murderous Queen Ranavalona of Madagascar. 

Not that I can take credit for this fantastic journey. It is apparent to me that I unknowingly tapped into the energy of the Infinite when I fled Vienna on that freezing spring night in 1842, and I thank God for showing me the purpose of my existence and for giving me the courage to pursue it. 

 

****

 

The heavy tavern door barely missed my face as it banged open, and two brawling men careened into the darkness. Their heaving mass swept me off my feet and sent me sprawling over the icy cobblestones. Everything was a tumult of limbs, beer, and body odor. A shoulder smashed into my chin with enough force to make my teeth clack, leaving me dazed as we struggled to disentangle ourselves. 

My son, Alfred, hauled me to my feet. “Geht es dir gut?” 

I worked my jaw and gently shook my head to clear it. “Ja, danke.”

From the firelight spilling out of the doorway, I saw that I had scuffed my hands while breaking my fall, but nothing felt seriously injured. I smoothed down my petticoats and did my best to tuck in a few loosened strands of hair. The tumble had snapped the two men out of their altercation, and each was now similarly preoccupied with conducting their own triage. 

Alfred grimaced. “This is a mistake, Mutter.” 

I was of half a mind to agree with him. This very well might be a mistake. An odyssey to the Ottoman Empire could be deadly for the heartiest men, let alone for a middle-aged mother of two. But I had no choice. I had waited for this chance for forty years. If I didn’t go now, I never would.

“You’re sure Johann will be out late?” I asked.

“I told you. He’s at the lawyer’s club tonight.”

Johann was always at the lawyer’s club, which was part of the problem. It was an expense we could not afford, but Johann, like his father, believed in keeping up appearances. 

Johann was my stepson through my marriage to Anton—even though he was actually a year older than I was—which made for a somewhat awkward mother-son relationship. When Anton moved back to Lviv in a final attempt to revive his legal practice, Johann became the head of the house in his father’s absence. He managed the monthly stipend Anton sent back, as well as the small earnings I made by giving piano lessons. My sons were finally old enough to make their own livings and were becoming increasingly independent. I, however, would be forever subservient to the authority of my financial custodian. 

Until now.

I touched the little pouch hanging around my neck, safely tucked beneath my bodice. It contained the meager inheritance my mother had left me. But I could not keep her death a secret for long. Johann would find out sooner or later and come sniffing. That’s why I had to leave. Tonight.

I mustered my courage. The Lord is my shepherd. I will fear no evil. I repeated the prayer for good measure and stepped into the tavern.

As I did, I was nearly bowled over again, this time by the smell. Despite the cold outside, two blazing fireplaces and a raucous mob of sweaty Bavarian rivermen turned the place into a sauna. The dive was a favorite among the traders who sailed down the Danube to sell their wares in Vienna. They lined the rough-hewn benches and pounded the beer-soaked tables roaring with laughter over the fight that had nearly stolen my front teeth.

“Wait here,” Alfred shouted into my ear. “I’ll ask around for a captain willing to take on passengers.”

I was about to accept when I noticed a burly, red-bearded man leering at me. “You lost, meine frau? I could take you home, if you like,” he said with a sloppy grin.

Alfred stepped in front of me, but I put a hand on him. The last thing I needed was my eldest getting into a duel over my honor. I had one chance to get this right. I didn't have the luxury to worry about honor tonight. 

“I’m looking for passage downriver,” I said, raising my voice to be heard above the noise.

The business proposition drained some of the drunken lechery from the boatman’s eyes, and he lurched forward clapping a beefy hand over my son’s shoulder.

“Relax, puppy,” he slurred as he used Alfred to steady himself while he turned to scrutinize the tavern. After a moment, he pointed to a dour-looking figure sitting alone at a table against the far wall. “That’s Captain Erba. He has passenger cabins on the Maria Anna.”

I liked the look of Captain Erba even less than I liked the drunk who recommended him, but it was a start. “Danke, mein herr.” 

The boatman winked and raised his stein in a prost as I dragged Alfred after me. 

“Father will be livid,” Alfred hissed.

I ignored him. Alfred had already made his opinion clear in the way that grown children often do, as though their parents have not already lived a lifetime before being graced with the wisdom of their offspring. I knew exactly what my husband would think of me traveling through the Ottoman Empire alone, which was why I hadn’t told him yet. Besides, Anton lived almost 500 miles away, and I hadn’t seen him in over a year. I might have even returned before he found out I was gone. Except that he would find out because Johann would make sure of it.

I squeezed between the ripe-smelling throng and the wall. As I made my way, I watched the captain. He was short and spare but had a shrewd look about him. Erba sounded like an Italian name. So did the Maria Anna. I tried to gin up my confidence as I recalled my rusty language lessons from the recesses of my memory and stepped in front of him.

“Buona sera. My name is Ida Pfeiffer. This is my son Alfred. Are you Captain Erba?”

“I am.” He answered in German.

Relieved, I slipped back into my native tongue. “I’m looking for passage to Constantinople.”

Erba leaned back in his chair. “I’m afraid no one here can take you as far as Constantinople, Frau Pfeiffer. River boats are too shallow-keeled for the sea.” 

I knew that, of course, and had I been a man he might have just informed me of the furthest destination to which he could deliver me in that direction. I brushed off the condescension. “What about as far as the Black Sea?” I asked.

“Ja, I sail for Galați on the morrow. You’d likely find a serviceable ship to Constantinople from there.”

Galați was a small town but an important one since it sat at the mouth of the Danube, where the great river entered the Black Sea. The town was technically in Russia, but its unique position made it a principal trading hub between the Austrian, Ottoman, and Russian Empires. 

“How much?” I asked.

“For two?” 

I shook my head. “For one.”

The captain’s gaze flicked to Alfred, whose beard and broad shoulders marked him as old enough to bargain for his own passage, and then back to me. 

It was unimaginable for a woman to travel so far alone. Not only would a woman have to endure all the usual risks of travel: disease, storms, bandits, wars, and the general misfortune that all travelers must risk from inclement weather, poor diet, foul beasts, and reliance upon the grace of strangers, but she had the added danger of being the prime target for any thief, con-artist, rapist, murderer, misogynist, or opportunist. 

Captain Erba seemed to consider all this and finally asked, “For whom?”

“For him,” I lied, guessing that the shrewd man might refuse to look after a lone woman on a ship full of men.

“A hundred fifty.”

My throat constricted. It was an extravagant sum. A skilled laborer might earn only twice as much all year.

“A hundred fifty!” Alfred exploded. “That’s outrageous!”

Erba just sipped his beer. 

“Do you perhaps have a second-class fare?” I asked.

“If he’s willing to go without some comforts, we have a shared berth for a hundred thirty.”

Alfred snorted. “Let’s find someone else, Mutter. It can’t possibly be that expensive.”

The problem was I had no idea what a reasonable price was for such a voyage. I knew travel was expensive in a general sense, but there had been no time to research specifics. Once Johann found out my mother had left me an inheritance, he would find a way to get his hands on it. I could not deposit the money in a bank because the account had to be in my husband’s name, and Johann was my financial custodian in Anton’s stead. If I did that, I would be effectively giving it to him. I could not hide the money in the house because Johann lived there too and would eventually ferret it out. I could bury it, but then I would worry that someone would see me.

It felt wrong to flee before my mother was even in the ground. I had not even had time to mourn. I should have stayed for a few weeks at least and put her affairs in order. But my circumstances did not allow that. I had to go. This was my one chance to live out the dream that had sustained me while the bellies of my children rumbled and the stiff wind blew down the Alps, piling snowdrifts as deep as a man against the door. Since I was a little girl watching Napoleon’s Grenadiers de la Garde Impériale parade triumphantly through Vienna, the drumbeat of my heart kept a steady rhythm of desire for faraway lands beyond the majesty of the Austrian Empire. As I matured, those dreams took the shape of men. I imagined climbing the volcanic peaks of Cotopaxi alongside Alexander von Humboldt and sailing to the Galapagos in the wake of Darwin’s HMS Beagle. Most of all, though, I ached to walk in the footsteps of the Lord and to witness the sacred walls of Jerusalem. Even if I died in pursuit of this dream, which my sons had impressed upon me as a more than likely conclusion to my folly, I would have done what, to me, has felt impossible. 

“A hundred,” I countered, figuring it was better to lose a little coin to this man than all of it to Johann. “Due upon arrival.” 

“A hundred twenty. Half now and the rest on arrival,” Erba said, sitting forward and finally showing some interest.

I was dubious of giving up the money before I was on board, but I had no other choice if my plan was to work. 

“Can he board tonight?” I asked.

Erba narrowed his eyes. “I’m not in the business of smuggling wanted men.”

“Nein! Alfred is a commissioned officer in the local tax authority. But my other son is home tonight and can help with the trunks.” 

This was true. Alfred was a tax collector, and Oscar was home and could help with the trunks, although that was not why I wanted to board tonight. I needed to leave before Johann returned from the lawyer’s club. It would be impossible to sneak out of our tiny house with my trunk in the morning, no matter how hungover Johann was. Plus, if I was already on board, Captain Erba might not find out I had lied to him until we were already downriver. 

Erba assessed my son, judging Alfred’s character for himself. Undoubtedly, he had considerable experience doing so in his line of work. What he didn’t know was that it wasn’t Alfred’s character he should be judging; it was mine. Finally, he gave a curt nod. “Fine. The Maria Anna is the only steamer at Ferdinandbrücke. You can’t miss her. A man named Pavie will be on watch. Tell him I sent you, and he’ll direct you to a berth.”

I tried not to show my elation. We did it! I had passage to the Black Sea, and with a bit of luck, I would make it all the way to Constantinople. From there, it was only a short hop through the war-torn Levant to my secret destination: Jerusalem. 

If anyone knew my true ambition, they would barricade me in the Fool’s Tower. But I had dedicated my life to being a wife and a mother. With my boys grown and my marriage to Anton withered into a stalemate, the only thing left for me was to wait for death in an armchair as my mother had. I needed more than that. I needed to find out who I was. I had to do this one thing for myself and for God. If I met death along the road, at least I would do so standing. All I had to do now was hurry home to pack my bags, escape before Johann could stop me, and hope Captain Erba cast off before discovering he had a woman aboard the Maria Anna. 

 

Thank you,

Ben Henderson

BenLewisHenderson@gmail.com