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containing the translated prophecy from Ian’s hands and read it for himself. He paused only once, to look up at Argos, still seated next to Theo, holding her hand and trying to take it all in.
    Finally, the earl passed the prophecy back to Ian and crossed his arms over his chest. “It will be a very harrowing journey,” he told them. “The admiral has instructed all commercial and luxury vessels not to leave port, as there have been a few German U-boat sightings of late.”
    “We’ll have to risk it,” Ian said firmly. “My lord, we cannot leave the Lafittes to the Germans!”
    The earl nodded. “I agree, Ian. Especially not as it now appears to be critical to fulfilling Laodamia’s prophecy.” He then eyed Argos again uncertainly. “And what of our guest?” he asked.
    Theo answered right away. “He must come,” she said firmly. “Otherwise, he wouldn’t be in the prophecy above the rescue of the Lafittes. He must have some purpose to fulfill with us in France.”
    The earl addressed his next question to Argos. “Will you journey with us across the water, my good man?”
    “Of course,” Argos said easily. “I’m perfectly comfortable on the water.”
    “Then it’s settled,” Ian said. “Shall we leave in the morning?”
    The earl pulled at his beard. “There are many details to work out first, Ian. And supplies to be gathered.” Ian looked at his patriarch expectantly. “And I gather by that look onyour face, my good young man, that you expect to work out much of that this evening?”
    “No time like the present,” Ian replied with a grateful smile.
    The earl grunted. “Very well. Why don’t you four and our dear guest, Mr.… er … Argos, accompany me back to Castle Dover and we can at the very least get him some clothing that fits him a bit better, hmmm?”

THE WITCH’S DILEMMA
An alley in the city of Versailles, France, the same day
.
    A haggard-looking woman dressed in little more than rags shuffled quickly down the smelly cobblestones to her flat. In her gnarled hand she clutched a train ticket, and she cursed herself anew while she hurried along, anxious to pack and be on her way. The ticket had come at a dreadfully high price and had used up almost all her savings, but she’d not argued with the collector, lest he would deny her the passage she so desperately needed.
    All about her, people were rushing to pack and flee the city. The Germans were heading straight for Paris—of that there was no doubt—and those close to the capital city were certain to be caught up in the net of French defeat.
    She’d heard that Germans had no stomach for those who were different, and the Witch of Versailles was
most definitely
different.
    With a sigh of relief the witch reached her front door and inserted her key, mumbling reproachfully to herself asshe stepped across the threshold, leaving the door open to make as hasty a departure as possible.
    She’d seen this coming. Many a night she’d peered into her crystal and seen the certainty of France’s downfall, but the thought was so unfathomable that she had doubted the visions and convinced herself that it was only her fear reflected in the fissures of the crystal.
    Soon the streets would be overrun with German invaders, and those who did not fit the Führer’s idea of what a “proper” citizen should look like were certain to find no safe haven within the newly occupied land.
    The witch had heard rumors of what the Nazis were capable of. Her own visions had confirmed that they could commit unspeakable acts of torture and inhumanity. She’d seen things in her crystal ball that had frightened her straight down to her toes, and the Witch of Versailles wasn’t easily frightened.
    At least she had a plan, she reasoned as she gathered various odds and ends. She had a niece in Bayonne, and the witch thought that if that small city was not far enough south for her to disappear into, then she could easily slip over the border into Spain. She