A year later,somewhere in Macedonia
The heavy-bearded knight reared his mount over us on the steep ridge. March, you princesses, or the only Turkish blood you'll see will be at the end of a mop.
March...We had beenmarching for months now. Months so long and grueling, so lacking in all provision, I could mark them only by the sores oozin

THE MORNING OF THE DAY I was to leave was bright and clear. I rose early, even before the sun. The town had bid me godspeed with a festive roast the night before. All the toasts had been made and farewells said.
All but one.
In the doorway of the inn, Sophie handed me my pouch. In it was a change of clothes, bread to eat, a hazel

THAT TERRIBLE AFTERNOON changed my life. That night, as Sophie and I lay in bed, I couldn't hold back the truth from her. She and I had always shared everything, good and bad. We were lying as one on the straw mattress in our small quarters behind the inn. I gently stroked her long blond hair, which fell all the way down her back. Every time she

OUR POWERLESSNESS WAS SO OBVIOUS it was shameful to me. Norcross's sword jangled as he made his way to the frightened miller. On my word, miller. Norcross smiled. Only last week did you not have two sons?
My son Matt has gone to Vaucluse, Georges said, and looked toward me. To study the metal trade.
Themetal trade... Norcross nod

TWO DAYS LATER, other visitors came through our town.
There was a ground-shaking rumble from the west, followed by a cloud of gravel and dust. Horsemen were coming in at a full gallop! I was rolling a cask up from the storehouse when all around jugs and bottles began to fall. Panic clutched at my heart. What flashed through my mind was t

EVEN IN VEILLE DU PERE, word had reached us of the Pope's call. We had heard that masses of men were leaving their families, taking the Cross, as nearby as Avignon. And here they were... thearmy of Crusaders , marching through Veille du P?re!
Butwhat an army! More of a rabble, like one of those multitudes prophesied in Isaiah or John. Me

Veille du P?re,a village in southern France ,1096
The church bells were ringing.
Loud, quickening peals-echoing through town in the middle of the day.
Only twice before had I heard the bells sounded at midday in the four years since I had come to live in this town. Once, when word reached us that the King's son had died.

In 1933, the year Baba was born and the year Zahir Shah began his forty-year reign of Afghanistan, two brothers, young men from a wealthy and reputable family in Kabul, got behind the wheel of their father's Ford roadster. High on hashish and _mast_ on French wine, they struck and killed a Hazara husband and wife on the road to Paghman. The poli

Lore has it my father once wrestled a black bear in Baluchistan with his bare hands. If the story had been about anyone else, it would have been dismissed as _laaf_, that Afghan tendency to exaggerate--sadly, almost a national affliction; if someone bragged that his son was a doctor, chances were the kid had once passed a biology test in high sc

When we were children, Hassan and I used to climb the poplar trees in the driveway of my father's house and annoy our neighbors by reflecting sunlight into their Homes with a shard of mirror. We would sit across from each other on a pair of high branches, our naked feet dangling, our trouser pockets filled with dried mulberries and walnuts. We t

ONE
_December 2001_
I became what I am today at the age of twelve, on a frigid overcast day in the winter of 1975. I remember the precise moment, crouching behind a crumbling mud wall, peeking into the alley near the frozen creek. That was a long time ago, but it's wrong what they say about the past, I've learned, about how you c

Jennifer Aniston's reported new boyfriend has been identified as 36-year-old British model Paul Sculfor.
The actress was spotted holding hands with the heart-throb - who has appeared in campaigns for Christian Dior, Jean Paul Gaultier and Levi's - over dinner late last month.
And now People i