Podcasts about Buckingham

***This show is brought to you by Quince. Go to ⁠⁠http://quince.com/playonpod ⁠⁠for free shipping on your order and 365-day returns.*** Next Chapter Podcasts presents the complete Play On Podcast series, RICHARD III, in its entirety. The PLAY ON PODCAST SERIES, “RICHARD THE THIRD”, was written by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE and translated into modern English verse by MIGDALIA CRUZ. All episodes were directed by LISA ROTHE. Radio play by CATHERINE EATON.   This podcast was recorded under a SAG-AFTRA AGREEMENT.   The cast is as follows:   MATT FRASER                  as    RICHARD THE THIRD MIA KATIGBAK                 as    QUEEN MARGARET, CITIZEN and BLUNT HIRAM DELGADO             as    CLARENCE, DORSET, ELY and MESSENGER NANCY RODRIGUEZ        as    LADY ANNE, OXFORD, RIVERS and A MURDERER RACHEL CROWL              as    QUEEN ELIZABETH, NORFOLK, and MESSENGER SANJIT DE SILVA             as    NESS AQUINO, BUCKINGHAM, and A CITIZEN CHARLES DUMAS            as    EDWARD, HENRY the SIXTH, STANLEY & CARDINAL ANDY LUCIEN       as    HASTINGS, SCRIVENER, a MESSENGER and A MURDERER GABRIELA SAKER           as    CATESBY, DUKE OF YORK and A MESSENGER DANAYA ESPERANZA as BRAKENBURY, RATCLIFFE, LORD MAYOR, TYRREL, and  RICHMOND ALMA CUERVO              as    DUCHESS OF YORK, SHERIFF & A MESSENGER ELIJAH GOODFRIEND  as    PRINCE EDWARD, A PAGE, and A BOY   Casting by THE TELSEY OFFICE: KARYN CASL, CSA.   Voice and Text Coach: JULIE FOH   Original music composition, Mix and Sound Design by LINDSAY JONES. Composer, Producer, Guitars, Bass, Lead Vocals, Recording and Mix Engineer, DAVID MOLINA. EDWIN AYALA on Drums. Backup Vocals by MANUEL TRUJILLO. Sound engineering and mixing by SADAHARU YAGI. Mix Engineer and Dialogue Editor: LARRY WALSH. Podcast Mastering by GREG CORTEZ at New Monkey Studio. Coordinating Producer: TRANSCEND STREAMING (KYRA BOWIE and LEANNA KEYES). Executive Producer: MICHAEL GOODFRIEND.   The Play On Podcast Series “RICHARD THE THIRD” is produced by NEXT CHAPTER PODCASTS and is made possible by the generous support of THE HITZ FOUNDATION. Visit NEXTCHAPTERPODCASTS.COM for more about the Play On Podcast Series. Visit PLAYONSHAKESPEARE.ORG for more about Play On Shakespeare.   Subscribe to Play On Premium for ad-free episodes and join our Patreon for exclusive merchandise and early commercial-free releases. Go to nextchapterpodcasts.com for our Bonus Content, where you'll find interviews with the artists, producers and engineers who brought it all to life. And remember: “We are not safe”. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The Time Riders: Part 5 A Labyrinth Palace. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. The non-descript carriage had indeed made its way through Paris' winding streets, taking well over an hour to finally stop in front of the palace and allowing Mark to get out of the cramped cab before it rattled off. The sun had set some time ago, and night hung over the city heavily, the cloying air of Paris carrying the city's growing pains to his ears. Even at night, the city was not silent. Mark adjusted his outfit and marched toward the outermost gate of the vast palace, its arms spread wide and encompassing a massive courtyard. Two men wearing ornate red uniforms and holding pikes crossed their weapons at his approach, barring his entry. One of them gruffly asked him to state his business. Trusting to the plan, Mark said nothing, but merely held out one of his sealed letters, this one bearing the emblem of Richelieu. The guard examined it for several seconds, consulting with the other guard before handing it back and then opening the gate. Mark shot them both a dirty look for holding him up in his errand and then swept inside, doing his best to look haughty and full of bravado, which is what the Musketeers were apparently renowned for. He couldn't help but reflect that they seemed a lot less heroic than history let on and were more dickbags than anything else. Oh well. Faking being a dickbag was probably significantly easier than pretending to be a hero. He passed through another gate that got him closer to the palace, this one also manned by the Swiss Guard. He arrogantly presented them with the Richelieu missive, which once again satisfied their scrutiny and he was allowed to pass. He forced himself to not look around in wonder at his surroundings, instead heading straight to the great doors that would give him admittance to the palace. Alex once again presented his letter, but this time the guards squinted at him suspiciously. "Qui es tou?" demanded one of them. His throat was dry, but he answered as readily as he could, trying to sound authoritative and even haughty. "J'mappelle Benat de Ferres, of Soule, Second Company of the King's Musketeers under Monsieur de Treville. Let me through." "Fucking Basques and Gascons," muttered one of the guards in irritation. "Why would a musketeer be bringing a missive to his excellency, the Cardinal?" he demanded to know. Mark concealed his anxiety by looking pissed and rattling off one of the phrases Alexandra had given him, hoping it had the desired effect. "I have an idea, why don't we all go ask the Cardinal and you can fucking explain to him why you held up his envoy on an important errand? Does that sound good to you?" The two men looked at one another warily; the visitor was certainly obnoxious enough to be a Musketeer and a Gascon. Sighing and shaking his head in defeat, the one man handed the sealed letter back to Mark and they opened the doors, allowing him entrance. He swept by them, calling them shitheads in Spanish before the doors closed behind him. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help Gawking as he stared at the palace around him; its splendor was beyond anything he had imagined. Walls of white plaster, carved in exquisite shapes and edged in royal purple, along with gold filigree, and incredible paintings and artifacts lined the walls. Endless numbers of servants scurried by, hardly noticing him. He shut his eyes for a moment and composed himself, remembering the details Alexandra had shown him, the way through the palace. He turned and began his search for his teacher. Lisette walked primly through the halls of the palace, bowing her head deferentially to just about everyone who passed her. Wearing an elegant gown, she seemed to almost glide along the hallway, walking with a practiced ease that her mistress had taught her. She had, in three years, only been in the royal presence twice before, in attendance to Lady Alexandra. The king had barely noticed her, but Lisette didn't mind one bit, because this was far more of a life than she ever could have hoped for. She had, of course, spent much more time in the presence of the queen, because her mistress served Anne directly. Anne of Austria seemed mostly amused by Lady Alexandra's quirky servant, but she was kind to Lisette, often sending her home with gifts of chocolate. Her devotion to the queen, while not equal to her fanatic love for Lady Alexandra, meant she would die in Anne's name if necessary. She hoped it wouldn't come to that tonight, but she had made her peace with God and the Lady Mary all the same. Alexandra had set her with the task of removing or distracting every guard she could from the route Mark would take through the palace. She was not to kill anyone, nor was she to be seen in the mayhem, if at all possible. If things went wrong, she was to retreat to the queen's quarters and be seen protecting her. It was the best alibi she could hope for. A guard up ahead. He was a sullen-looking brute, not carrying the long pikes of the gate guards, but a much more practical halberd, along with a short rapier on his belt. She knew he'd be trouble. She ducked into an alcove and pulled a small phial out of her cleavage, drinking the strong red wine from it and sloshing it around in her mouth, to make sure the aroma was on her breath. Replacing the phial, she lurched back out into the hallway and sauntered toward him lazily. "Hello, beautiful," she said drunkenly, giving him a lopsided smile. "You must' be off-duty by now." "No, I am not," he grunted, not looking at her. "Go away, slut." "C'mon," Lisette persisted, leering at him as she leaned against the wall to his left. "We could be having fun. Don' you like fun?" "Duty is not meant to be fun." "But these are fun," she drawled, as she stepped in front of him and leaned forward, using her hands to pull down the front of her bodice and exposing her perky tits to the man, whose eyes went wide at the sight. "These are all the fun you'll need;” He didn't stop her as she sidled up to him, stood on her tip-toes and put her arms around his neck. Her breath was sweet with wine, her dark eyes glassy with the lack of inhibition it brought on. Her tits pressed to his chest, her hips flat to his crotch. "Take me into that room and fuck me;” she breathed huskily, her lips no more than an inch from his. "I want to feel you inside me;” The man was rather pale at her suggestion, but nodded readily and turned around to open the door. The parlor behind was empty, the perfect place for a rendezvous with this slattern. She took him by the hand and led him inside, closing the door behind them. Mark walked down the hallway, trying to not look like he was hurrying, and staying alert. He was entering a difficult part of the operation, because he was no longer in an area of the palace that led to either the king's quarters or those of Cardinal Richelieu. If anyone stopped him now, he would probably be redirected rather forcefully, and he had precious little time to waste. He walked by a door, from which he heard a moaning noise. Then he heard a familiar woman's voice, gasping and urging someone on. His translator bud wasn't close enough to hear what was being said, but he was fairly certain he knew what was happening. He subtly pushed the door open and peered inside. Mark gaped as he watched Lisette, leaning over a small table, panting while a member of the House Guard fucked her from behind, her layered skirt bunched over her ass as he pushed in and out of her. The guard remained oblivious, but she noticed the door open and flicked a glance his way. She gave him an annoyed look and jerked her head, indicating that she had this covered and he needed to keep moving. He nodded and pulled the door shut quietly before heading down the hall again. He turned a corner and then headed up some stairs, leading up to the next floor, which was apparently where Becky was being kept. He was so busy thinking about what he needed to do next that he blundered right into two guards, who grunted and then glared at him angrily. "Stupid shit!" the one man he had smacked into spat. "Watch where you are; who are you?" Mark went wide-eyed, not having expected them. His mouth seemed to work, but no sounds came forth. They blocked his ascent and continued to glare at him. "Who; are; you?" the man demanded again. Mark regained control of his voice and tried to speak. "My name is; my name is Benat;” Fuck, he'd forgotten his last name. "My name is Benat DeFlepard," he managed to say. "I am from Sully and I have' "What sort of name is DeFlepard?" snarled the one guard. "I have sealed orders," Mark interrupted, not liking where this was going. "From the Cardinal!" "Is that so?" sneered the man. "Let's see them!" Mark handed him the sealed missive scroll. The man examined it and frowned. "This is the king's seal," he growled. "What is the meaning of this?” Before the man could finish his query, Mark punched him in the face and then pulled his crème-colored tabard over his head and threw him down the stairs. The guard cursed loudly as he rolled at least two floors. Mark was too late to stop the other man from drawing his short rapier, but managed to grapple onto him, keeping himself from being run through. Mark might have been taller, but the guard was a veteran of many wars, strong and cunning. It wasn't long before he had Mark's back pressed against the wall, both men fighting for balance on the stairs. "Little shit!" he shouted, trying to press the edge of his blade against Mark's throat and slit it. They tussled, and Mark managed to wedge his arm between his neck and the rapier, feeling the sickening cold pain of the keen edge creasing his forearm. His free hand, however, snaked down to the pistol on his belt, twisting the leather until the muzzle pointed down; The stairwell echoed with a thunderous crack as Mark pulled the trigger and discharged the weapon, the iron ball punching a hole in the guard's boot and then his foot. The man groaned and staggered, releasing Mark. His ears ringing, Mark managed to shove the man down the stairs, following his comrade. He shook his head and began sprinting up the stairs, knowing the whole palace would be coming down on his head any second now. Alexandra was concealed in a secret closet in a parlor not far from the queen's quarters, listening carefully. She was wearing the red uniform of the Cardinal's personal guard, her impressive bust flattened and pulled tight with linen straps. Her golden hair was held in a ponytail while a black mask concealed her facial features. Her rapier sat on her hip and three customized pistols were concealed around her person, along with several knives balanced for throwing. She heard the discharge of a firearm, followed by shouts of alarm and fright. She hung her head and sighed. She'd been hoping it wouldn't come to this, but there seemed to be nothing for it. She would see her obligation met. Alexandra crossed herself and exited the hidden space, heading toward the Cardinal's quarters, determined to cause a distraction for Mark as he went in the opposite direction to rescue Rebecca. It was all in God's hands now. All she could hope was that Mark had remembered what his name was. Mark raced down the hallway, ignoring people who poked their heads out of various rooms and parlors to see what all the commotion was, before closing their doors and locking them in panic at the sight of him. He had his sword in one hand, his pistol in the other. Having discharged his shot already and having no idea how to readily and safely reload the damn thing, the pistol was mostly for intimidation purposes at this point. Thankfully, if he pointed it at people, they tended to make themselves scarce. A guard rushed around the corner, his halberd in hand, but Mark smashed the ornate swept hilt of his rapier into his mouth, which dissolved in a welter of blood, lips and gum before he burbled and fell over. Mark kept running. He shoulder-blocked his way past another guard, but then found himself confronted by a small group of angry servant girls, who kept swearing in French and throwing bread rolls and potatoes at him. Covering his head, he sprinted past them, resisting the urge to take a swipe at the uppity wenches. There was the room! He raced up to it and tried to open the door, but it was locked. Given the amount of noise and commotion he was causing, he shouldn't have been surprised. He stepped back and then slammed the heel of his sturdy boot into the door with all his might, knocking it out of its frame and falling to the floor. He rushed inside, looking around for his teacher, but she was nowhere in sight. That's when the heavy vase smashed into the back of his head. He was on his face on the floor, reality swimming around him. He heard someone hissing at him as he was handled roughly by his neck and his tunic. He was turned onto his back and someone was straddling him now, their supple legs on either side of his throat and their heavy skirt bunched up between their legs, allowing him to goggle up at his assaulter. "Becky! Stop! Stop, I; Ow! Jesus! Quit Hitting Me! It's Me, Mark!" The flurry of fists halted and then there was a pause thick with confusion. He felt his cheeks being gripped tightly, immobilizing his face and then his neck pulled up so that whoever was sitting on him could look at him. "Mark?" Becky exclaimed in disbelief. "Mark! Oh my God!" She began smothering him with feverish kisses, still straddling him. Still dizzy, he was in no particular shape to stop her, in spite of the fact the whole palace was on its way to kill him. His eyes finally managed to focus, and he looked up at her. "I've missed you too, Becks, but can you let me up, please?" Becky blinked and then jumped off him hastily, helping him to his feet. She still seemed stunned to see him, not that he blamed her. "How?" she asked, her eyes wide with disbelief and wet with emotion. "You; you were." "Dead? Yeah, kinda." "The how are you here?" she asked, trembling. He shrugged. "To quote Neil De Grasse-Tyson, science, bitches." "Oh, it doesn't matter," she exhaled, crushing herself to him and hugging tight, her body shaking with raw emotion. "You're back, Mark. You came back for me;” He smiled and hugged her back, his hand on the back of her head. "Well sure I did. You're my time-travelling partner, aren't you? Can't leave you here with these smelly savages." She laugh-choked back a sob and look up at him, her eyes leaking tears onto her scarlet cheeks. "And we're gonna get out of here and; Becks, are you, like, really drunk?" Her expression of delight warped into a scowl at his query and she pushed herself away from him. "Well what do you expect? I only spent the past month trying to kill myself with alcohol while you were taking your unscheduled nap, you jerk!" "I'm sorry," he faltered, knowing that this couldn't possibly be the right time to make her angry, on so many levels. "Let me get you out of here and then I'll explain everything." "Hang on;” she huffed, stomping over to a table and grabbing her bottle of wine, tilting her head back and taking a stiff pull from it gulping loudly. Mark made a wan face and fidgeted, acutely aware of the time they were losing. "Becks, no offense, but I'm pretty sure every guard in Paris is looking for me right now, and I' "Sounds like more of a you problem than a me problem," she grunted, attempting to drain the bottle with several loud glucks. "Nobody was trying to kill me while I was here." "No, you seem to have that covered;” he said dryly. She shot him a nasty look, but didn't stop drinking. "Look, we need to go," he insisted. "Pretty sure Alexandra's risking her neck to make sure I can' "Alexandra?" Becky interrupted, stopping drinking to look at him pointedly. "The gorgeous blonde I want to fuck?" "I; sure," Mark replied, trying to keep up. "Pretty sure she and Lisette are' "Who's Lisette?" Becky asked suspiciously, lurching toward him. She was quite a bit drunker than he'd initially thought. "It doesn't matter," he declared, determined to get moving before Richelieu arrested and shot his ass again. "We need to get' Mark winced in fear as she surged toward him, the bottle raised over her head. She flew by him and smashed the bottle down on the head of a guard who had barged into the room. His eyes rolled up into his head and he went to sleep. "Weren't you drunk moments ago?" Mark asked in disbelief. "Looks like you're the one who need rescuing." Becky shot back. "You were half a second away from having an exit wound the size of an airport runway in your chest just now." Another guard sprang around the corner. Becky, who was closest to the door, kicked him savagely between the legs. The man staggered to a stop and stiffened, but didn't fall over, the impact of her foot cushioned by the many layers of baroque skirt she was wearing, not to mention the dainty, padded slipper. As the man gaped at her, she kicked him between the legs again, but her skirt interfered, softening the blow to the place where he merely doubled over from the ache. Becky snarled angrily, lunged in, grabbed him by the neck and DDT him, almost as smoothly as ‘Jake the Snake' did to fellow pro wrestlers. This time he stayed down. "Jerk!" she muttered, glaring at the man. Without a second thought, she used a knife on the man's belt to tear layers of skirt away, leaving herself clad only in the bodice and skimpy underwear, with garters holding up the silk stockings she wore. She knelt on the unconscious man's back and pulled his boots off, replacing her slippers with the sturdier footwear. She then stripped his rapier and pistol from his person before turning to look at Mark. "You ready now?" she asked pointedly, standing there in what basically amounted to negligee and musketeer boots, while holding a rapier and a wheellock pistol. He gaped at her for a moment, unable to say anything. "You have no idea how stupidly sexy you look right now, Becks." Mark managed to say. "I'll believe it when Alexandra says it to me," she sniffed, turning and heading out the door. "Let's go, hero." Mark sighed and trotted after her, leaving the two men lying on the floor in a spreading pool of wine and broken shards of glass. Lisette made sure the guard was arranged comfortably in the plush chair, snoring, his breeches still around his ankles, his soft cock oozing cum all over his balls. She shook her head in exasperation as she rearranged her skirts; no sooner had the man cum than he yawned and began to fall asleep. She'd been nowhere close to climaxing when he'd finished. Typical male. At least the boy from the future liked to make sure she came first, even if he was a naïve school boy. She left the door open, to make sure his shame was on display and then hurried down the hallway, holding her skirt up and allowing herself to run. The palace was ringing with shouts of alarm, anger and panic. Everything seemed to be going as planned, whatever that entailed. She just trusted that Mistress knew what she was doing. Guards from various regiments were racing around now, getting one another's way and shouting orders angrily. She passed through them virtually unnoticed, merely a servant girl looking for shelter. She made a beeline right for the queen's royal apartments, and she was stopped by no one, since she was known to the guards and stuff. She nodded hastily as she passed two guards outside the ornate doors and headed inside the boudoir. Anne of Austria looked up from a book to see Lisette scurry in, closing the door behind herself and then pressing her ear to the door, ignoring everyone else in the room. She then saw the queen, blinked, curtseyed hastily, and went back to eavesdropping on the frenzy of activity outside. The monarch shook her head wearily and went back to reading her book. "You may not pass through here!" shouted the house guard, blocking Alexandra's passage forward. She had identified herself as a member of the Cardinal's guard, using her well-practiced man's voice to give credit to her guise. Thought he believed her, the man remained unmoved, barring her way. "I told you, I need to reach the Cardinal!" she insisted, knowing full well he would not let her through. "That is no concern of mine," he said coldly, glaring at her, his hand on his sword, ready to draw it. "Find another way to reach your Cardinal, because if you come another step closer, I will run you through." "So be it!" she growled as she lunged in, her own rapier flashing in her hand. The man drew his weapon and thrust at her, but she parried and then drove the point of her blade through the shoulder of his sword arm, pinning him against the wall. He groaned as his sword fell to the ground, but then her foot slammed into his face while she pulled her rapier from his shoulder. He was unconscious, but he would live. She had no cause to kill these men. She ran down the hallway, listening all the while to the commotion that echoed through the Louvre. A young guard barred her progress at a juncture in the hallways, and before he was even ready, she struck him across the head with the basket of her rapier, knocking him out. Alexandra continued along the corridor, but then saw several guards rushing into the other end of the hall, outside of an ornate door that led to the king's royal apartments. Upon seeing her, the six men pointed their muskets at her, three kneeling while the other three stood behind. A series of barks shook the area as she ducked around a corner hastily, avoiding their barrage. She could hear them shouting orders to reload. She leaned her head back against the wall and sighed. Idiots. Before they had reloaded, she had pulled a small device made of two pieces of flint out of her pocket, along with a tiny clay pot out of the other. From the hole in the top of the pot hung a thin strip of rigid paper. She held the pot by its flat bottom and snapped the flint pieces against one another, producing sparks that caught on the paper and began to burn. As the flame made its way down the paper wick, she counted slowly and calmly before leaning around the corner, tossing the pot, which skated on its flat bottom along the floor toward the guards who opposed her. She then ducked back, waiting grimly. There were shouts and the sound of boots stampeding, but then an unreal hissing shriek and a bright, flaring white light as the magnesium powder inside the container ignited. Cries of pain followed. Ten seconds later, the light died, and she rounded the corner and strode down the hallway. Four of the six guards had fled before the grenade went off, while two were writhing on the ground, clutching at their eyes from the flash blindness. She stepped between them and kicked in the door toward the king's apartments before turning around and walking away, knowing that this would create additional confusion as they sought to find the assassin in the red tabard who sought to slay the Sun King. There was more chaos to sow. Mark and Becky sprinted down the hall, ignoring the pell-mell going on around them. Inevitably, though, they were confronted by a soldier of the Cardinal, one that Mark recognized. It was the captain who had shot him. Marks teeth clenched as he rushed forward, ready to run the sonofabitch through, but Becky was faster. She threw herself into a skid, sliding along the polished floor, hurtling straight toward the man. He gaped at her in disbelief, but by then, she had slammed her foot into his crotch, doubling him over with a grunt of unreal pain. With a roar, she surged to her feet, grabbed the man around the middle from behind and yanked him over backwards, suplexing his family jewels with zest. Mark had by now skidded to a halt and watched in disbelief while his teacher stood over the supine officer and kicked him in the ribs. "Bastard!" she raged. "Teach you to kill my students!" She knelt and yanked his head up, making sure his eyes were open as she pointed at Mark, her voice dripping with vitriol. "See that? He's alive! You can't even kill something right! Your life means nothing! Nothing!" She smacked his head off the tile floor and gathered up her weapons before looking at Mark, composing herself now. "Sorry," she said with a flush of embarrassment. "You probably wanted him, didn't you? I thought you were dead, so if I ever saw him again, I'd have to avenge you." Mark shrugged. "No harm done. Except to him, and I don't really' Mark stopped talking and stared down the hallway behind Becky. Three men in flamboyant uniforms, trimmed in blue and white like himself were now approaching them. One had a grim, patrician air and about him, the second a handsome boyish charm, while the third towered over the others by a head and shoulders, a contemptuous smirk on his face. "That can't be good;” he thought. Becky didn't even blink. Without turning around, she pointed her pistol backwards over her shoulder and pulled the trigger. The bark of the shot echoed around the palace and the giant staggered backward, eyes wide in shock, before he fell over like a redwood. The other two gaped at her in astonishment as she turned around to glower at them. They hastily took hold of their downed friend and hauled him out of sight, their duty to the king forgotten. "That's right, ladies, run!" Becky called out, her chest heaving. "How's it feel to get beat up by a girl?" "You are so sexy right now, Becks." Mark chuckled, approaching her. She turned back to face him; covered with gunpowder smudges, scratches and the occasional bruise, she'd never looked more attractive to him. Heedless of their surroundings, she threw herself against him and kissed him shamelessly. His hands found her ass and squeezed as he returned the kiss and she moaned into his mouth. If there'd been a rhino horn on his crotch, he'd have been impaled on it. She broke the kiss and looked at him hungrily, her eyes shouldering with desire. "I'm so glad you're not dead, Mark," she breathed. "I can't wait to prove it to you when we get the fuck out of here." Mark took her hand and pulled her down the hallway, breaking into a run. They weren't out of danger yet. "What're you laughing about?" she asked, scowling while she allowed him to lead her through the palace. "I think that was Porthos you shot," he said almost cheerfully. "Becks, you ganked Porthos." "Oh, I did not," she hissed, trying to not feel disgust at her student's lack of historical knowledge and basic temporal mechanics. "Porthos doesn't die until 1670. So if that guy dies, it wasn't Porthos. If it was Porthos, he isn't dead. Read a book, Mark." "Ha, you said bookmark!" he laughed as he pulled her around a corner and down another hallway, trying to reach the point Alexandra had designated. "Uh!" Becky groused. "Why was I so damn happy that you lived? I swear, Mark, I; Ack!" They both whirled in panic and threw themselves back around the corner as a withering hail of musket fire peppered the plaster of the walls where they'd been standing mere seconds before. They scrambled to their feet and began running back the way they'd come, determined to not die in some baroque version of Bullet Hell from the Matrix. "Fucking shit!" Mark yelped, yanking her around another corner as more soldiers appeared and filled the hall with musket balls. "This sucks!" "Ya' think?" she hissed as they kept running, their options becoming increasingly limited. "I'm in this too, Mister Spotlight!" "Yeah, well at least you don't have the Goblin City Battle music from the Labyrinth soundtrack stuck in your head while they chase us around and try to kill us!" "I do now, you fucker! Thanks a lot!" Becky raged. A lone house guard skidded to a stop near them and prepared to fire. Mark flung his pistol at the man, striking him in the head before knocking him aside as they continued down the corridor. "What did you throw your gun away for, dumbass?" she exclaimed, wondering if blood loss after getting shot had permanently damaged Mark's brain. She hoped he could still get it up, if they made it out of here. "It had no ammo in it." Mark grunted, trying to get his bearings, thinking back to the plans of the palace Alexandra had shown him. "Why were you carrying around an empty pistol?" Becky asked in disbelief. "Intimidation purposes? Were you gonna hold it sideways when you pointed it at people, hope you looked all gangster?" "I plugged a guy on my way to find you, okay?" he sighed as they kept running. "The first shot fired that started this whole mess, it was me shooting some jackoff in the foot as I tried to find you." Becky skidded to a stop, halting Mark's flight as well. She looked into his eyes and then hugged him in relief. "Thank you, Mark," she said quietly. "You came for me, after you nearly died, and we both could today. You're very brave." When she ended the hug, Mark found she had put her own pistol in his hands. He frowned in confusion. "Why'd you give me your pistol?" he asked. "Because let's face it, I'm a lot more likely to snag another one than you are," she sighed. "Let's go, I'm done with the Sun King's France." Out of breath, they settled for trotting down a hallway, surrounded by the echoing sounds of chaos. Things had gotten so confused that the guards were all fighting one another now, thinking the enemy in their midst. Panting, the pair stopped suddenly as they came to a major intersection of hallways. Not far away, a confused brawl consisting of house guard and the Cardinal's guard blocked their passage. Upon their appearance, though, both sides paused in their fight and stared at them. Then a captain raised a call to kill them. Without even thinking, Mark pointed his pistol at the huge iron chandelier over the soldier's heads and fired. The plaster ceiling broke as the iron ball struck at and the chandelier plummeted, crashing into the dozens of men before while clouds of plaster dust filled the hall. "I can't believe that worked!" Mark laughed as they ran down another venue. "Yes, it was very impressive, Gene Kelly," Becky sighed, shaking her head. "Next, you'll be swinging from the damn chandeliers or using your knife to ride down tapestries." Soldiers surged around the corner, charging into the couple. Mark shouted in fury as they tried to skewer him while they attempted to wrestle Becky to the ground. He dodged a blade and slashed his foe across the arm before leaping back to try and give himself room. He looked around in a panic and saw Becky kicking a soldier in the nuts before punching another in the face, her eyes flashing with fury. Someone slammed into him from behind and he tumbled forward, scrambling to gain his feet. More bodies joined the fracas and he realized that they were not only trying to kill him but fighting one another as well. It was difficult to breathe. There were too many bodies smothering him. He gasped in panic and strained to find room for himself. His shaking hand gripped a sword and she shoved it forward indiscriminately, feeling something soft give before him. He focused all his effort on crawling forward, finally emerging from the churning pile of men, locked in combat. He dragged himself along the floor but then grunted in pain as something speared into his thigh from above and behind. He turned to look, his eyes watering in pain, seeing a man in red, glaring at him, raising his rapier for another strike. Then a sword point burst through the man's chest from behind. His eyes widened, and he dropped his sword and crumpled to the ground. The man who had killed him was already moving on to another target. Exhausted and dull with pain, Mark dragged himself to a wall and slumped against it, looking around for Becky, but she was nowhere to be seen. No. Not again. He ignored the maelstrom of violence and pushed himself to his feet, limping down a hallway, sword held loosely in his hand as he went to find his teacher. Alexandra strode down the hall with purpose, her senses keen for trouble. She had caused as much trouble as she could, all the while keeping the fray well away from the queen's quarters. She regretted that men would die today, due to their poor judgement, but she understood that the girl Rebecca could not remain here in Paris. A deep foreboding warned her that almost any price was worth paying to see her safely away. Sparring with D'Artagnan. She stopped as a lone figure came into view, blocking her way down the corridor. He wore the blue of the king's mousquetaires, his young face etched with determination. His hand rested on the hilt of his rapier while he observed her. "So," he began, tilting his head. "You must be the cause of all this mayhem, oui?" "I am not who you seek." Alexandra said plainly. "I do not truck with liars and I do not appreciate being lied to!" the young man snapped. "I would have your name before I run you through in the king's. Are you an agent of Buckingham?" "No." "Charles of Spain?" "I have no time for this," Alexandra said testily, putting her hand on the hilt of her blade. "Move aside and let me complete my task, musketeer!" "Then it is death you crave!" he hissed, his rapier flashing in his hand now. "I shall happily give it to you in the queen's honor!" Alexandra drew her blade as her foe rushed forward. She parried his initial thrust and then counter-thrust, which he swatted aside. A flurry of thrusts and ripostes followed, the two warriors measuring one another, vying for advantage in the narrow hallway. Steel rang and flashed. Alexandra's sword point tore a vent in one of her foe's sleeves, and she followed up with a swipe at his eyes, but he dodged away nimbly. He lunged in with the speed of a striking serpent and she caught his blade on hers before it pierced her stomach, turning it aside. They pressed blade-to-blade, moving around one another in a slow, deadly circle, their eyes locked. He danced away again as a main-gauche flashed in her hand, nearly shearing his throat open. He spun around her next attack, and when he was facing her again, a pistol had appeared in his free hand. At point blank range, he pulled the trigger. The thunderous bark of the firearm rattled her teeth as she bent backwards, the bullet passing harmlessly overhead. Alexandra somersaulted backward gracefully, coming to her feet with her rapier guarding against a follow-up attack. A lot of bemusement crossed his face. "Very pretty, good sir," he said. "But it will not save you." He darted in again and another furious exchange of swordplay followed. His blade kissed the top of her thigh, leaving a shining crimson thread on her skin. She paid him in kind with a nick across his cheek, followed by cutting the red plume from his hat. He was nearly as fast as she was, and his recklessness made him dangerously unpredictable, even to one as skilled and experienced as Alexandra. Their blades grated as they strained against one another, teeth clenched and eyes flashing in fury. With a cry of effort, she shoved with all her might and threw him back. He kept his feet and remained on guard, irritated by his foe's grit and skill. "D'Artagnan!" shouted Athos as he and Aramis dragged the unconscious Porthos across the hallway behind the combatants, disappearing from sight. This distracted the Musketeer, who turned to look behind himself in confusion and then disbelief. He glanced back at his foe and then sighed, sheathing his blade. "Until next time, enemy mine;” he said, before darting around the corner to catch up with his comrades. Alexandra waited some seconds after he was gone and then sagged against the wall, sighing heavily. She rubbed her face for a moment before returning her rapier to its sheathe and continuing on. She had to find Mark and Rebecca. The door to the room swung open and Mark staggered inside, panting in pain. His entire leg felt like it was on fire, and it was maddeningly sticky. He had lost his sword while searching for Becky, but it mattered little if he couldn't find her. He tumbled into a sitting position, propping himself up on his hands and trying to breathe. Everything hurt now, and it was getting to the place where he couldn't move. His head throbbed and he was getting dizzy. With extreme effort, he managed to tear one of his sleeves off, and tied it around his leg, hoping it would act as a tourniquet and perhaps staunch the bleeding. It stung like fucking Hell and to his distress did nothing ease his pain. He sat there panting, when a solemn figure in red moved slowly by the door. There was a pause and then the person came back into view, peering at Mark quizzically. Clad in red robes and a little red skull cap, his tight, lemony features creased in recognition and then disbelief. "I know you," the Cardinal murmured, his eyes never leaving Mark. "Yes, you are the boy from the field, the one who claimed to be a Spanish noble and had the pretty girl with him." He stepped closer, still scrutinizing Mark, who tried to move backwards, his body screaming in protest. "But you died," the elderly man stated. "My captain shot you. You died in that field. What witchcraft is this?" Annoyance flashed in the Cardinal's eyes now. "So, you are the cause of all this tumult. The girl I was to give to the queen, she is missing and now I know why." He pulled a pistol from within the voluminous folds of his red robes and cocked it before pointing the muzzle down at Mark's face. "I think it is time I dealt with this problem myself, once and for all." Too hurt and exhausted to fight back, Mark squeezed his eyes shut; "I Kick You In The Nuts, Richelieu!" shrilled a voice from the doorway behind the Cardinal, the shout followed by a sickening thump as a musketeer's boot appeared beneath Richelieu's groin. The man stiffened for a moment in confusion, but then his eyes crossed, and he bit his lower lip as his skin turned a sickly shade of green. While Richelieu slumped forward and then fell on his side, trembling and holding the family jewels, Mark goggled up at Becky, who stood indignantly in the doorway with her hands on her hips, glaring down at His Eminence. "Asshole;” she muttered as she stepped over the Cardinal and came over to Mark, who was shaking with the effort of holding himself up. Her eyes welled with emotion as she knelt next to him. "Oh, Mark," she said in a gentle voice. "Look at you, you got stabbed, baby. I'm so sorry;” "I'll be alright," he managed to say as she hugged him to her. "At least you still look amazing, no matter how badly your ass has been kicked." Becky's laugh choked back her sob and she smiled at him, tears in her eyes. "Smart-ass," she murmured. "C'mon, let me bind your boo-boo properly and then we'll get out of here, before everyone in Paris is dead." She fixed his makeshift tourniquet and then helped him stand. Once he was upright, he took a deep breath and smiled at her. "I think I can walk, I was just in need of a breather, ya' know?" She giggled. "How the Hell are we gonna explain a rapier wound through your thigh when you get home?" "With any luck, Chester will have a little something' to fix me right up." Mark replied. "Let's go. If we are where I think we are, then our ride isn't that far away." They walked cautiously down several smaller hallways, avoiding any and all encounters. They chaos seemed to have abated, at least for now. Alexandra had predicted that if fighting broke out, there was be lots of confused violence, followed by the various guard companies withdrawing to their assigned wings of the palace, to directly protect their charges, such as the king, queen and cardinal. "Bet the Cardinal's guards are gonna be upset," Mark chuckled. "He's nowhere near his quarters, and they let him get kicked in the freaking balls." Becky giggled as she walked alongside him, her arm through his. "You have no idea how good that felt, Mark. A girl could get used to that. Maybe we should visit Berlin, see if I can kick Hitler in the nuts." "One grand adventure at a time, teach;” he said wearily, causing her to laugh. But her mirth was brought up short when a solitary figure appeared in front of them, wearing red and clad in a black mask, a rapier and several pistols on their belt. Becky scowled, getting ready to step in front of her student, when Mark seemed to sigh in relief. "I am glad to see you are both well," said the person, walking forward, pulling their golden hair out of its ponytail and removing the mask. Becky's heart leapt as she came face-to-face with Lady Alexandra once more. "Thank the Lord." She stepped in and embraced them both, all three of them trembling at being reunited. Alexandra finally smiled at her friends and nodded. "We must still get you out of here, before the guards return to some sense of normalcy. Mark, do you still have the place name I gave to you?" Mark smiled wearily. "I; it's in the little pocket in my pants here, but it's probably pretty red and unreadable by now." "It's a good thing, then, that I wrote a copy, non?" Alexandra lilted, pulling a small piece of vellum out from beneath the sash she wore and handing it to Becky. "Go to this place," the noblewoman instructed. "By carriage, it should not take more than three days. It is a sanctum I use on occasion and it will be safe. Lisette and I will find you there a day or two after you arrive." She then handed two small, round jars into Becky's palm as well. "Use these to salve your wounds, until I arrive. I promise you, they will work." "How can we thank you?" Becky asked, staring at Alexandra, enchanted. The French woman smiled and then pulled Becky to her, kissing her deeply and passionately. Becky shuddered and moaned, her arms wrapping around Alexandra and returning the kiss passionately. Mark smiled as he watched the blondes make out for almost a minute before Alexandra reluctantly pulled away. "We need to stop, or we will be fucking right here in the halls of the palace," she breathed, wiping at the corner of her mouth with a finger. "We will see one another soon, and celebrate then." She turned to Mark and smiled before leaning in and kissing him gently. "You are a brave man, my friend. Never doubt it, no matter what travails Heaven provides." She walked them through several secret passages now, until they emerged into a small courtyard, under the cover of night. Standing nearby, a non-descript carriage awaited them. Alexandra wrapped Becky in a cloak and then spoke to the driver while the clambered inside. His instructions were clear, and he would not deviate from them. Becky and Mark looked out a small window, smiling and waving at Alexandra, who held up her hand to bid them farewell. The carriage exited the Louvre via a small gate where the guards asked no questions, and then they were on their way through Paris. Mark sank back into the surprisingly plush seat and sighed heavily. "Try not to get kidnapped again, Becks," he said lazily. "I'm not sure how much more of this my body can take." "But being rescued by you is one of my favorite reasons to use tawdry sex as a thank you," she protested, turning to smile at him and tracing a fingernail up and down his chest. "You wouldn't deprive me of that joy, would you, hero?" "Perish the thought, teach;” he chuckled tiredly. A time to recuperate. Mark had Lisette pinned beneath him and rocked back and forth on top of her, his cock plunging in and out of her molten cunt, while she groaned in pleasure. It felt so good to have this boy's tool inside her again. Her legs were wrapped around his strong waist and her hips moved in time with his, taking him in as deep as she could. Lisette rarely kissed anyone who wasn't her mistress, but in this case, she was making a willing exception. Their tongues tangled wetly as they fucked, exploring one another. The tingling heat was overtaking her, and she knew it would not be long now. She crossed her ankles behind him and she bit at the skin of his chest, shuddering in delight. Mark arched his back, pushing as deep inside her as he could, before shaking and allowing himself release. Her wanton cunt gripped his cock while he came deep inside her, his whole being awash with unreal pleasure. They moaned through a frenzied kiss and then sagged together, spent and sated, at least for now. Moans, pants and sighs of bliss attracted Mark and Lisette's attention and they looked off their side; also on the huge bed with them, Becky and Alexandra were sitting together, with their arms and legs wrapped around one another, kissing hungrily as they squirmed their slick pussies together. Their matching golden hair was damp with the sweat of their exertions, skin slick and shining. The greedy smacking and sucking sounds their slits made as they mingled made the four lovers shiver in delight. Alexandra and Becky were groping and fondling one another with unreal need, their nails leaving red marks and their fingers gripping tight enough to leave welts. Neither relented, though, desperate to cum together. The moans became groans and they were panting as they gyrated their hips, churning rhythmically in a sensual dance of bliss. They pulled tighter against one another, clenching their teeth and craning their necks as they peaked, then crying out and pressing their molten, gooey pussies as they came. More feverish kissing punctuated the climax and the finally both collapsed backward, chests heaving, their legs still scissored together. Steam seemed to be rising from their bodies, skin flushed pink. The four lovers lay silent for some minutes, just basking in their shared bliss. Mark finally pulled himself out of Lisette and then knelt over her face, allowing the dark-haired girl to slide his cock into her mouth, cleaning their mingled cum from his cock, which she did with great delight. Becky and Alexandra finally clasped wrists and pulled themselves up into a sitting position, hugging tiredly, but not willing to relinquish their most intimate contact. They kissed deeply and contentedly, fondling one another's tits. Lisette looked over at them and giggled. Alexandra looked over at her servant, her eyebrow raised. "What is so funny, girl?" Lisette turned on her side and rested her head on her hand while Mark spooned in behind her. "I was just thinking, Mistress; you and Miss Rebecca look so much alike. What if you are her ancestor?" Becky and Alexandra both thought about that, looked at one another for a moment, shrugged and began kissing again, their tongues tangling loudly. "And if that was the case, think about what we discussed the other day," she continued, smirking mischievously. "You said you had wondered what it would be like to Monsieur Mark's child, yes? Wouldn't that also make him Miss Rebecca's ancestor?" Mark burst out laughing while Becky choked on her shock, interrupting the kiss she had been so enjoying. She looked at Lisette in disbelief. Alexandra just sighed and shook her head, used to her servant's twisted humor. The moment of metaphysical terror passed for Becky and they all cuddled together in the center of the bed, kissing tenderly and caressing. Alexandra had told Becky all about Mark's efforts to find her and reach her, what he had undergone and risked. Becky's eyes shone as she looked at Mark at promised to make sure he was properly thanked until the end of time. "I wish you could stay," Alexandra almost moped, regretting that she had to give her new friends up. "I enjoy your company, and I am not ashamed to say I love you both." "Feeling's mutual, Alexa," Becky lilted, tracing a fingernail across her generous tit. "But maybe we needn't end our association. If we designate a consistent place, when you know you are available, you can leave a message there. Mark and I will check for messages, and when we see one, we can visit you at the appointed time. No conflicts or dangers presented, as long as we're all certain of the clear lines of communication." "I like that idea," Alexandra said, grinning. "And I have a gift for you both." She climbed off the bed and went to retrieve something. She returned shortly with two bottles, which she presented to them. "A new type of wine, invented in my native region of Champagne," she said, kneeling on the bed as they examined the bottles. "Twice fermented and sweet on the tongue, not unlike my darling Rebecca." Becky blushed and Mark grinned. "You'll be glad to know that in our time, champagne is one of the most expensive and sought-after drinks in the world, used in every important celebration." "That does please me, Mark." Alexandra said, nodding her head and deciding to not chide him this time about telling her the future. "And now that I think of it, literally, I've got a present for you, Alexa." Mark mused, getting off the bed. The three women watched as he walked into a large closet, rummaging around loudly. When he returned, he was holding what appeared to be several unusual books, which he handed to Alexandra. "What are these?" she asked, puzzled. "Well, the graphic novel is a pictorial history of Wonder Woman, who you may recall I told you a little bit about," he explained, sitting on the bed again. "And the other three books are all written by a man named Alexander Dumas and are fictional works about the Three Musketeers. I figured they'd be humorous reading for you." She looked up at him incredulously. "But; why were they in my closet here in my chalet?" He grinned again. "Well, just a moment ago, I decided to give them to you. So in a few days, I'm gonna gather them up, bring them here to just before Becky and I arrive, and bury 'em in your closet, where I know they are. That way, I don't run into any of us. And clearly it worked." Becky made a wry face. "Ya' know, I'd say you're getting the hang of this whole temporal travel thing, but I'm pretty sure you're only getting the hang of abusing it." Mark smirked at her and pinched her nipple, making her shiver and bite her lip. He then looked back at Alexandra. "And when you're done with 'em, you can just leave 'em in our drop-off spot and Becks and I'll pick them up. That way, there's no anachronistic copies of nineteenth-century novels or twentieth-century comic books lying around to be discovered by archaeologists." "I take back what I said just now, you're gonna get us all clock-hammered right out of existence." Becky sighed, causing her lovers to laugh. Mark and Becky lay side-by-side in her bed and holdings hands, back in their own time and generally none the worse for wear. They'd learned some valuable lessons and had made some important contacts along the way. "Do' you really think Alexandra's my ancestor?" Becky mused, looking at her bedroom ceiling. Mark shrugged. "You sure look a lot alike, and you're both Hell on wheels. I'm still amused by the notion of me being your great-great-great-whatever grandfather." She sighed and shook her head. "I can handle the notion of fucking and falling in love with my great-whatever grandmother, but the notion of you as my whatever grandfather gives me the jibblies. Just promise me you won't impregnate Alexa and make that come true, Mark." He chuckled. "I promise. I have no idea how trans-temporal alimony or visitation rights even work." Becky giggled and turned in to face him, cuddling close. "So, who're you gonna save me from next, hero?" she purred, nipping at his earlobe and making him shiver. "Oh, God, Becks, can we start out with some really ferocious kindergartners from the Roaring Twenties taking you hostage? I can probably handle that right about now." She giggled again and crawled on top of him, staring down into his eyes and kissing his nose while she squirmed her tits against him. "Take me to New York in the Twenties and I'll show you how liberated a flapper girl I can be," she whispered. "Deal?" "Deal." Mark replied, pulling her down and kissing her soulfully. Count Mark and Becky in! I Think I'm Getting The Hang Of This! Finally home. Mark sat at his dining room table, eating dutifully. His mom had prepared short ribs and mashed potatoes for dinner, one of his favorites. What she didn't know was that Mark had substituted several herbs and spices into her collection, items he'd brought back from his temporal travels. At the very least, this meant they were technically several hundred years old, or sometimes that they didn't exist in the modern era at all. "I'm enjoying this particular batch of thyme that I put in the braise," Dhallyla Pritchard remarked as she gently stabbed some green beans with her fork. "Mark, where did you say you got it for me? The flavor is so; special." Mark shrugged. "Another shop I thought I'd try out," he replied. "Nowhere near our usual places." "Well, keep it up, son," his father said, sitting at the other end of the table. "No offence to your mother's cooking, but the spices we were getting before weren't helping the cause. Now this is flavor." "Such a good little minion," his mom said sweetly, reaching over and pinching his cheek. "First, you did amazingly well on your Physics exam and boosted your overall grade to the place where the university accepted you, and now you're an herbs and spices guru. Talk about an unexpected change." "Yeah," his sister Roxy said, sitting across from him, and trying to keep the suspicion out of her voice. "Unexpected is right." "Now Roxy, be nice," their mom chided. "You should be happy for your little brother, he'll be going to university with you." "As long as she pulls her grades up," grunted dad, pausing in eating to waggle his fork in her general direction. "You promised us you'd keep your grades up and we'd let you live here rent-free as a result, Rox. We're living up to our end of the bargain, what's so difficult about yours?" "Maybe I should study more and party less," she grumbled, scowling at her food. She hated to admit it, but her mom was right, the spices were great. Where had the little trouser-snake bought them? "Ya' know, open my mind more and my legs less?" "Dear!" Dhallyla gasped, looking at her daughter in shock. "Nobody said you were behaving licentiously! There's no need to use language like that!" "Sorry," the dark-haired girl sighed, putting down her fork. "Just been on edge lately. Seems to have been The Mark Show around here recently,

On this episode of the podcast Texas Land Commissioner Dr. Dawn Buckingham breaks down the state's aggressive, tech-driven fight to secure the southern border and the state's land. She details how Texas is using aerial surveillance, ground-penetrating technologies and rapid-response teams to detect and shutdown cartel-built tunnels before they become trafficking pipelines.Commissioner Buckingham shares new data showing a sharp drop in illegal crossings and human trafficking attempts — even as federal policies make border security more difficult. She highlights the Texas General Land Office's stewardship of 13 million acres, explaining how the state's oil and gas revenues fuel public education and why energy independence remains a conservative cornerstone.You can learn more about Dr. Dawn Buckingham on her official website: www.DawnBuckingham.com or by following her on X: @DrDawnBuckinghamTX.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

In this episode, we dive into the story of Dennis Tufano, the unmistakable voice that brought The Buckinghams to the top of the charts during one of the most exciting eras in American pop and rock music.Dennis Tufano's journey began in Chicago, a city whose vibrant music scene gave rise to countless legends. Long before he was singing “Kind of a Drag” on national television, Dennis was fronting local Chicago bands like The Pulsations, performing in small clubs and perfecting the soulful vocal style that would soon make him famous. When The Pulsations won a TV talent contest and rebranded as The Buckinghams, everything changed—almost overnight.The Buckinghams burst onto the charts in 1967 with “Kind of a Drag,” a song that captured the hearts of fans and climbed straight to number one on the Billboard Hot 100. With Dennis Tufano's velvety voice leading the way, the band followed up with a string of unforgettable hits: “Don't You Care,” “Mercy, Mercy, Mercy,” “Susan,” and “Hey Baby (They're Playing Our Song).”At the height of their success, The Buckinghams were one of the most played American groups on radio, performing on The Ed Sullivan Show, American Bandstand, and countless other programs that defined 1960s pop culture. Their fusion of brass-driven rock and soul-infused pop set them apart from both their British contemporaries and the emerging psychedelic rock sound of the time.But Tufano's story didn't end when the hits stopped coming. After The Buckinghams disbanded, Dennis formed the duo Tufano & Giammarese with his former bandmate Carl Giammarese, recording several critically acclaimed albums in the 1970s. The duo showcased a more intimate, singer-songwriter vibe that highlighted Tufano's range and songwriting depth.From there, Dennis moved into solo work, writing and recording for film and television—most notably contributing the theme song to Grease 2. He also worked as a voice actor and composer, keeping his creative spirit alive in new ways.Today, Dennis Tufano remains a beloved performer on the classic rock and oldies circuit, delighting fans with heartfelt performances that revisit The Buckinghams' timeless hits while celebrating his own musical evolution. His live shows remind audiences why his voice was, and still is, one of the most distinctive in American pop music.In this episode, we talk about his early Chicago days, the meteoric rise of The Buckinghams, and how Dennis carved out a remarkable solo career that's still going strong decades later.If you're a fan of 1960s rock, Chicago music history, or the golden age of pop, this episode is a must-listen.

The Time Riders: Part 4 A daring attempt to rescue Becky from Cardinal Richelieu. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. “Your Becky sounds like a very strong woman." Lady Alexandra reflected when Mark told of their conflicts in the time journey to old France. "Actually," Mark said, blushing again. "She reminds me of you, or you remind me of her. You actually look quite a bit alike." She smiled sweetly and reached forward to touch his knee. "High praise for me indeed, then. Am I right in assuming that she speaks French since you do not?" Mark nodded. "Then she should be safe inside the Louvre, which is where my mistress the queen is currently staying," Alexandra concluded. "So his Eminence is playing another little game, to make my mistress feel bad by bringing beautiful women into her service? We shall see to this, Mark, I promise you." "Thanks," he said. "I really, really appreciate this. You have no idea." "She must be very special to you." Alexandra said slyly. "Well, we're not in love, or anything," he said hastily, wishing he didn't have to keep explaining this. "But yeah, I guess you could say we're fond of one another, and she's the only person I time travel with." "Were I you," Alexandra said, sitting back now and taking another sip of one while crossing one leg over the other. "I would try to keep it that way. It has been explained to me, and it seems perfectly logical, that things just get more complicated when you involve other people or try to do too many things?" "You don't look at all like you're from this time," Mark admitted. "Are you actually from the Sun King's France?" She nodded. "That I am, to a noble family of ancient lineage, going even back to the reign of Charlemagne. But in service to my queen, I take very good care of myself and am in the peak of health." "No kidding," Mark breathed, earning a smirk from Alexandra. "Chester said you're good with a sword?" She shrugged in a non-committal manner. "Suffice to say that I am not afraid to take on Les Troi Inseparables." Mark assumed that she meant Athos, Porthos and Aramis. "D'Artagnan too?" She laughed, a beautiful, crystalline sound. "Aye, even the irascible Gascon. Nor do I cringe before the Duke of Buckingham, who is said to be the greatest swordsman in Christendom, barring possibly my brother." "No recognition for you?" She shook her head. "I dare not, my service to the queen would be compromised. I am not driven by fame, Mark, but devotion and duty. Secrecy is all that allows me to continue in my task." "You're like Wonder Woman." Mark laughed. She looked at him and tilted her head. "Comment?" "A fictional heroine from my own time," he said, waving it off. "She's powerful, she's brilliant, she can fight, she can fly, she's compassionate. They've been writing and drawing stories about her for about seventy years now." "It sounds fun," she sighed. "But I do not wish to be ensnared in these time troubles, and I do everything I can to avoid them. The less I know, the better. Protecting my queen is enough." He nodded. "I promise to try and not add to your troubles in this, and I'm sorry." "You needn't be," she said easily, draining her glass. "The debt I owe Chester for this is many years old, I am surprised that he has not called it in before now, to be honest. How long has Becky been at the Louvre?" Mark thought about that. "Uh; a week to get to the palace from where we were; then three weeks; and then it took me a week to get here, so best guess is four weeks." Alexandra nodded and considered. "The initial intense scrutiny she would have been under will be relaxing after a month. They are no doubt still training her, but she sounds very bright, so they will be eager to move her into the court." Mark nodded. "Alright, what do we do? Run in with pistols blazing and swords unsheathed?" She paused in her ruminations and looked at him for a moment before shaking her head slowly, saying nothing. She poured herself another glass of wine and nocked it back before sighing and returning to her thoughts. "Uh, may I ask a question?" Mark said somewhat meekly. Alexandra looked at him and waited. "If; you're one of the queen's ladies-in-waiting," Mark said somewhat awkwardly. "Shouldn't you have at least seen or have heard of Becky by now? I gotta admit, she's like you, she's really hard to miss." The French woman smiled prettily. "I have been away some two months now on a delicate errand for my queen, one that took me south to Spain." "Pretending I was from Spain got me shot." Mark grumbled. Alexandra raised her eyebrows. "Ah, tu hablas español?" "Nope," Mark said, holding up his hands. "Not goin' through this again. So, what do we do, Miss; uh, Miss;” "Just call me Alexandra, cher," she said easily. "And if we become friends, you may call me Alexa." He nodded. "Okay, Alexandra. What is our plan?" "I shall think on that," she replied. "We will not be doing anything until at least tomorrow, I assure you. I only returned this morning and even the queen does not know I am back yet. That being said, you will be my guest here in my private apartments." "Uh, okay," he said. "That doesn't sound too bad, I guess." "It is convenient, for one thing, but another is perhaps a bit more personal and selfish on my part," Alexandra added. "Be honest with me, Mark." "Okay." "Would your Becky be hurt or jealous if you and I were to fuck?" she asked plainly. Mark thought about that for a moment and then shook his head. "She'd probably think there was something wrong with me if I didn't; to be honest. Besides, if she thinks I'm dead, what's the harm?" "Bien," the woman stated, nodding and standing. "Tonight, you and I shall, oh, what is that English saying; ride below the crupper." "Never heard that, but I'm in," he said, chuckling. "And do not worry, unlike most people of this day and age, I bathe daily, so you should not find my closeness offensive." Alexandra added. "I'm pretty sure you could smell like a federal stimulus pork bill and I wouldn't notice," he laughed. "Don't you have quarters at the Louvre?" She nodded. "Oui, but my mistress allows me to stay here when possible, since I am closer to the people of Paris this way. I can look out my window, see them and remind myself of my duty to them." "You're pretty complicated for a noblewoman." Mark admitted. "History doesn't think much of your class of people." "A deserved indictment, no doubt," she sighed. "Alors, I did not keep you here to bore you with such ephemera, I intend to pleasure you before making you risk your life again in the days ahead." The French Art of Feminine Disrobing. He watched from his chair as she slowly turned around and began the French art of feminine disrobing. She began by removing the rather poufy blouse she was wearing, revealing her shapely back. She was beautiful, but now he could see the lines of athleticism in her shoulders and torso, and still somehow with the affectation of being delicate and womanly. Alexandra then lifted one leg and removed her short boot deftly, then reversed her pose as she removed the other boot. Her feet were surprisingly dainty, but they seemed to be planted firmly on the floor. Undoing the tie of her breeches, she wiggled them down over her lovely hips, exposing her incredible behind. She bent over to push the article of clothing down the rest of her statuesque legs and in spite of the dim light, he could almost see her cunt just below those temping cheeks. She stood up straight and stepped elegantly out of the pool of her breeches, putting her hands over her bust as she turned her head to smile at him coyly. As he watched, she slowly came around so she was facing him now. If Mark's jaw could have literally fallen off, it would have. In the flickering candlelight, she was bewitching to behold. Her skin was creamy and flawless, fair and yearning to be kissed. Her womanly hips carried strength, melting into her glorious legs. Her snatch was hairless, something he didn't associate at all with the period; especially the French. "So, do you like what you see?" she purred, enjoying his reaction. He nodded dumbly and she allowed her hands to fall away from her tits, revealing them. Large and perfectly shaped, sitting high no doubt because of her strong back and shoulders, and crowned with small, pink nipples that made his mouth water. "Now perhaps it is time for you to show me the man I will enjoy?" Alexandra said softly, smiling. "Stand up and let me see you, Mark." He couldn't do a thing about his hard-on, so he didn't even bother trying to conceal it. Still sitting, he removed his boots and socks before standing. Without any of the grace displayed by his anticipated new lover, Mark fumbled off his shirt, revealing his chest. He wasn't overly muscular, of course, but he had more than enough tone and definition because of the sports he'd played. She smiled and just watched quietly. He undid the tie of his breeches and bent over to pull them off. When he stood back up, his cock sprang to full attention, wobbling in front of him slightly. Alexandra nodded, apparently in approval. "Men of days to come seem to be gifted." Alexandra stated in a sultry voice as she stepped forward, moving toward him. “Or, perhaps today, for you; my dear Alexandra?” Mark flirted in a manner even he found uncharacteristically competent. He could feel his heart thundering in his chest as the blonde goddess stepped closer and closer to him. She was then standing directly in front of him, her glorious pelvic mound almost touching the tip of his pulsing erection. He thought he might cum right on the spot. Her elegant hand slowly reached out to take hold of his turgid shaft, the fingers wrapping around gently and giving him the lightest of squeezes. "And now," she said in a whisper. "We shall' The lock on the door clunked before it flew open and in stepped a young woman with wavy dark hair and eyes, apparently not noticing the activity within. "I am back, mistress," the girl chirped as she shut the door and locked it again. She seemed cheerful and energetic, her green dress twirling about her prettily. "I bought some wine and also the soap packets that you; oh! My apologies, mistress, I did not know you were busy!" "Do not worry, Lisette," Alexandra said easily, clearly not at all surprised to see the girl while Mark just gaped. Her hand was still on his cock and stroking gently as she acknowledged the newcomer. "You're just in time to share dessert with me;” Cirrhosis Of The Louvre Mark blinked as he stared at the young woman who had just sauntered in. About his age, she was rather short, but cute in a quirky kind of way, with wavy dark hair that reached her jawline and cheerful brown eyes, over which she wore small round spectacles. Her green dress looked like elegant and well-maintained peasant wear. She seemed rather surprised to see him as well. "A new playmate, mistress?" she asked in French, clearly not surprised to see Lady Alexandra naked on her knees and stroking Mark's cock. "For now," Alexandra said easily, smiling at her servant. "He actually is an associate of Monsieur Edgeworth and needs our help." "Oh, not that pain-in-the-ass again," muttered the girl named Lisette as she walked into the dimly-lit room, clearly put off by the mention of Chester Edgeworth. Her accent was distinctly different from Lady Alexandra's, more coarse and unsophisticated, even to Mark's untrained ears. His translator device was having trouble keeping up. "Like our lives are not difficult enough." "Perhaps, but we have time for some fun, I am happy to say." Alexandra pointed out, not at all bothered by her servant's mutterings. "You will be delighted to know that in helping this young man, we will be putting the spurs to the Red Duke." "Well, there's that at least," Lisette admitted, dropping the linen bags she had been carrying and coming toward them, beginning to shed her dress and underthings without batting an eye. "This one is tall, Mistress. And he has a blank expression about him. English? A colonial?" "Close enough, my love," Alexandra giggled, watching as her beloved servant removed the last vestiges of her modesty, standing naked before them now, except for her spectacles. Her tits were small, her figure trim, but rounded in a youthful way; and devoid of fat excess fat, but not skinny. Living and fighting alongside her Mistress meant Lisette had no time for being indolent. She was probably also the best marksman outside of the Sun King's army with a caliver. "He is indeed from the colonies." "And probably from some other time, if he's involved with Edgeworth, but I have learned not to care," the brunette sighed as she joined Alexandra in kneeling in front of Mark. "Very well, let's fuck this one, before he gets killed, or unavailable like the others." "Wait, what?" Mark asked, his eyes widening and his erection threatening to retreat into his abdomen and his translator bud did its job. "Ignore her," Alexandra said easily, smirking at her companion. "She is just being salty about a boy she liked to fuck down at the market, no longer being available." "He die of dysentery or something?" Mark asked. Alexandra shrugged. "No, he got married." "I'm still going to fuck him the next time I see him;” Lisette said sullenly. "Oh, sorry," Mark said, somewhat embarrassed. "I guess I'm in the habit of assuming that you're the only person in this time I'm ever gonna meet who isn't riddled with a pox or sexual disease." "A fair assumption, my friend;” the blonde woman cooed as she began kissing along the length of his veiny, rippled shaft and making him shiver. The fireplace kept the room warm and also gave it an amber glow that was so comforting and conducive to their current activities. Lisette nestled in closer, smiling and fondling his sac gently while watching her mistress pleasure their new plaything. "He is large, Mistress," she mused, smiling slyly. "Nearly the size of Buckingham, I think." "Umm, the men of days to come do indeed seem to be gifted," Alexandra murmured as she tilted his hard cock up and traced the tip of her tongue along the vein on the underside. "Mark here is no exception, it would seem." Lisette's surprisingly well-kept fingernails grazed along his thighs while she edged inward, wanting to be closer to her mistress. Alexandra now swirled her tongue around his throbbing head before putting it inside her warm, wet mouth. She opened her eyes and looked up at him before slowly sliding in his length in one slow, steady motion. Mark shuddered in pleasure, feeling her tongue swirling around his length, even as she kept her mouth on him. His fingers found their way into her lush, golden hair, kneading at her scalp, and steadying himself while she began to bob back and forth expertly. In the back of his mind, he realized that she was as good as any girl from his own time at sucking cock. He shouldn't have been surprised, but sex seemed to be the one human endeavor that didn't really progress as time moved forward. People were either good at it, or weren't, and the best techniques had probably been around for thousands of years, needing no refinement. Alexandra was living proof of that theory. Lisette moved in and began kissing her mistress' neck and collarbone, her hands now wondering and caressing the noblewoman's body with a practiced ease. Alexandra continued to suck on Mark's cock readily, not at all distracted by her servant's touch, but rather excited by it. She squirmed as her cunt grew moist, yearning to feel this man's tool inside her. Alexandra's strong lips held his glans and her tongue rolled around his purple tip. Lisette's mouth now joined Alexandra's in sliding up and down the sided of his length before they kissed around his cock tip, tongues flickering and sliding wetly as they moaned. His hands were on the back of their heads and he shivered again, lost in the unreal sensations. He felt the brunette girl take over sucking on him, while her blonde mistress nipped at the skin of his waist. "Umm, he has a big tool, mistress," purred Lisette before bobbing along his shaft again. "A pity he will not be available to us regularly." "I think my friend is pleased with you, Mark," Alexandra said, smiling up at him slyly. "Do you wish to fuck us both?" "That; sounds great;” he grunted, closing his eyes and concentrating on not cumming so damn quickly. These two were a wicked tag team. "But what if one of you;” "Fear not, cher, we will not," Alexandra assured him. "I am classically trained, including in Roman medicines and can prevent unexpected complications from arising. Or our bellies." Mark didn't know exactly what 'Roman medicines' had to do with contraception, but she was the expert in this time, so he'd take her word for it. From what he'd read, the alternative in this era was a condom made of linen, which wasn't even meant to prevent pregnancy so much as inhibit pleasure. Hell with that. "Are you any good with that tongue, man of the New World?" she asked now, smiling at him wickedly. "Becky seemed to think so." Mark replied, trembling as he fought to hold on. He would welcome a chance to lick cunt if it would keep him from embarrassing himself before he had properly fucked either of them. "Then Lisette will continue to see you your needs down below, while I become acquainted with your face." Alexandra breathed. Mark sighed as Lisette stopped sucking on his cock long enough to retrieve several large, plush pillows and lay them on the floor near the fireplace. He was almost in a daze as the blonde noblewoman led him to the scarlet and gold oreillers, plump with down and feathers, and then rested him on top of them. Without more ado, she nestled over his face, looking down his body, allowing him to examine her while Lisette knelt between his legs and resumed wrapping her lips around his cock loudly. He marveled at her shining, slippery cunt, so tempting in the flickering orange light of the hearth. He had now fucked a few French girls in this time period, along with Becky, and they were all completely natural, often unusually hairy between their legs. This glorious woman, however, kept her twat completely smooth, a total aberration from the norm. Lisette was almost shaven clean, which he could only assume was at her mistress' behest. He could see Alexandra's tiny, pink clit just peeking out from under its hood, begging for attention. The wet, exquisite heat of Lisette's mouth made his belly groan. He pulled the blonde down onto his waiting mouth, needing to distract himself. His tongue snaked between her wet nether lips and inside her. Alexandra sighed shamelessly and squirmed on his mouth while fondling her opulent tits. His fingers gripped her thighs tightly, flexing into her delicate flesh. She was not kidding about taking care of herself compared to her contemporaries. Her scent and her taste reminded him of Becky more than anything. He pushed his tongue deeper inside her, massaging her walls and core and making her gasp and shudder in delight. She pulled at her nipples as she rocked back on forth on Mark's mouth, enthralled by how skilled he was proving to be at pleasuring her orally. He was quite possibly as good as Lisette, which was no small feat in her opinion. Her calves pressed in around his ears, her pert derriere bumping against his face. Mark's tongue flickered inside her and he buzzed his lips on her, sending jolts through her whole body. "Mistress, he is ready for you," Lisette said, pulling her mouth off his cock and looking up at her lady while pumping her tiny hand along his shaft. "Would you like to fuck him now?" "Non, ma couer," breathed Alexandra, her body now showing a sheen of sweat. "You may fuck him first. I assure you he will bring you bliss. I am fine where I am for now." Lisette nodded and moved to straddle Mark's hips, facing her mistress. She took hold of his cock, biting her lip as she toyed it against her cuntlips and clit. Finally, she pushed down, taking the head inside herself. She sighed while Mark shuddered as he penetrated hervery tight cunt. She then groaned loudly as she sank down, taking him all the way inside herself. She was very tight and Mark made an incoherent sound into Alexandra's twat, making her gasp and shudder violently, cumming suddenly. She leaned forward and grappled onto Lisette, kissing her greedily as she came. Mark could feel her wetness soaking his face, the heady aroma enthralling him. Enveloped in a type of pleasure he had probably never experienced before, even with Becky, he simply fought to control himself, lashing Alexandra's inside with his tongue while Lisette squirmed up and down on his cock, fucking him. Her cunt flexed and clenched expertly around him. He made a guess about the blonde noblewoman above him and took hold of her ass cheeks, pulling them apart before sliding a thumb through her puckered knot. Alexandra wailed in unexpected delight at the intrusion inside her back passage, pressing down and back against his hands and face. She rocked wantonly, genuinely thankful for the meddlesome Chester Edgeworth on this occasion. Mark showed no signs of relenting in his carnal assault. Whatever courtesies men of days to come were taught about a woman's pleasure, she envied the recipients. "Uh, mistress," whimpered Lisette as she squirmed, leaning backward while pumping her cunt on his cock. Alexandra could see the burgeoning shaft splitting her servant-girl's puffy cuntlips wide, glistening now with her wet desire as she squeezed around him. "Mistress, he's going to make me cum!" "Then cum, my dearest," Alexandra cooed, eager to see her beloved Lisette in the throes of unbridled passion. "And then I shall fuck him and we can cum; all of us, non?" The mere mention of cumming with her mistress made Lisette moan loudly, gyrating on Mark's cock with wild abandon. She was fairly bouncing as the liquid heat washed through her, followed by the unreal tingles of la petit mort. She leaned forward and kissed her mistress passionately, her cunt clamping around Mark like a silken vise as she came. "And now you, mistress!" she panted as she regained control of her body, sliding off Mark's throbbing tool to make room for the blonde woman. Somewhat reluctantly, Alexandra pulled her gooey cunt away from Mark's mouth, shivering as his finger popped out of her ass. She leaned down his body sensually, leaning over to take his cock in her mouth, moaning in pleasure as she tasted Lisette's cum on his rigid staff. Her head rose back up and her mouth left his coc,k and she smiled back at him while she stroked his length. "Perhaps you could take me from behind, my friend? It has been some time since I have felt it done properly." Mark nodded and clambered up to his feet, moving around while Alexandra arranged Lisette, lying the brown-haired girl on her back. She then sank down onto her, their arms wrapping around one another and they kissed deeply and passionately, the mere sight of it driving Mark wild. They were so total in their devotion that he wondered if they were in love. Lisette then moved around deftly, so that her mouth was beneath her mistress' dripping cunt, while the blonde woman hovered over her servant, on her hands and knees. Mark stood behind Alexandra and settled onto his knees. Lisette confidently reached up and took hold of Mark's pulsing cock, guiding him closer, until he was holding Alexandra by the hips. She placed the knob of his cock against her mistress' cunt lips, teasing it up and down for a few moments. Alexandra's response was to sigh and kiss her servant's cunt lovingly, making her shiver. Mark pursed his lips as Lisette finally guided him inside the aristocrat's snatch, with a slow, steady push. Already wet and ready, Alexandra's cunt yielded before him easily, but he soon groaned as he realized that further in she was as tight, if not tighter, than her servant, who was considerably smaller in frame. Alexandra moaned into Lisette's cunt while Mark trembled at the exquisite, wet heat. Once he had sunk in right up to the hilt, he paused for several moments, adjusting to the wicked sensation. He already understood he was no match for this woman's sexual prowess, and he was thankful for her indulgence. Once he was inside her, Lisette released him and wrapped her hands around her mistress' thighs, holding them firmly while she began kissing devotedly at her cuntlips, clit. Mark's visible shaft and balls bounced upon her forhead. Clearly she intended to facilitate their mutual climax and make sure they both experienced as much pleasure as they could handle. Knowing not to wait any longer and to simply take cues from Lisette, Mark made sure he had a firm grip and began pushing back and forth inside Alexandra, using long, slow, and deliberate thrusts to begin. The blonde moaned in appreciation of his efforts. "Hmm, you are very skilled with your phallus, my friend," she sighed, smiling back at him before returning to kissing Lisette's cunt and sliding a slender finger inside her. "You do not just fuck, like so many men of this day, but you know how to make love. Your Becky is a lucky girl." "Thanks;” he managed to say, praying for endurance as he felt her rhythmically squeeze herself around him with every thrust, even while she pleasured her servant girl. This woman was a succubus. Hadn't she said she was an agent of Anne of Austria? She'd be formidable indeed. And if she was one tenth as good with a sword or pistol as she was at fucking. Alexandra giggled at his inability to speak in full sentences, resolving to go easy on him and simply enjoy herself. A small allowance, perhaps, since she was obligated to help him. She pushed back slightly until her ass cheeks met his hips and her wet cuntlips pressed against his skin, enveloping his cock entirely. Beneath her, Lisette kissed and slid her tongue all over them, lost in a dutiful reverie. She realized Mark could take guidance and instruction without words, if she made her intentions known. She made him fuck her a little faster now by not only moving back and forth, but by squeezing him inside her more quickly, a technique she had taken years to perfect, but always to advantage. Soon, he was sliding in and out of her rhythmically, almost pulling his cockhead out of her before pushing all the way back in. Given his ample length, this was a wicked delight for her; fucking his cock was even better than sitting on his long eager tongue! Lisette was not only pleasuring them, but helping to regulate their coupling, something she could now do instinctively. Her devotion to her mistress was total. If Alexandra was fucking a man, Lisette was not jealous (usually), but simply played her part in making sure everyone enjoyed the experience as much as possible. They were practiced lovers who knew one another's needs and desires completely, and Lisette now fulfilled her role in the tryst with sublime skill. Mark shuddered as he felt Lisette's fingers massaging beneath him, along his balls and even his taint. To his surprise, it served to help distract him from the unreal pleasure if being deep inside Alexandra, allowing him to last longer than he had any business hoping to. He began pushing in and out a little harder, asserting himself and making the blonde goddess moan in pleasure. Soon, Mark was slapping his hips against her ass cheeks loudly, increasing the tempo to the place where Lisette couldn't readily use her dainty fingers on him. She instead continued lapping at her mistress' clit and massaging the split lips as he fucked her. Lisette trembled as Alexandra pushed two fingers deep inside her now, finding her pleasure points with unfailing skill while she sucked on her servant's clit, moaning around it. Alexandra squirmed back against Mark lustily and onto Lisette's mouth, panting in delight. "Oui!" she gasped, gyrating her pelvis expertly, the rings of her cunt muscles rippling along Mark's throbbing cock. "Right there! So good!" Mark was finding his body trembling, the familiar tingle starting to well up within him. His thrusts were faster but less controlled now, his hips performing an almost shoving and scooping motion as he dug inside the French noblewoman. Lisette was massaging her Mistress' cunt eagerly, delighting in the mingling taste of desire on her two lovers. She watched as Mark's glistening shaft slid back and forth, pulling wetly at Alexandra's nether lips. "Gonna cum!" he grunted, stiffening, trying to hold on while making sure that was what she wanted. "Yes!" Alexandra purred, her body flushing with warmth at his words. She heard him groan and press as hard as he could against her. She obliged by pushed back against him and squeezing for all she was worth. She sighed loudly, sliding her fingers as deeply into Lisette as she could, shivering in pleasure as her orgasm blossomed through her. Her wanton cunt fluttered around Mark's cock as she felt it pulsing and spurting his pearly cum deep inside her. They heaved and ground against one another for nearly a minute until Mark sagged back on his haunches, while Alexandra slowly laid forward, his cock sliding out of her with a wet pop. She rested her tits now on top of Lisette, who busied herself by tilting her head up between her mistress' legs, kissing her cunt and then lapping at it hungrily, her tongue finding the creamy globules of Mark's cum inside her, thrilling to the tangy taste. Alexandra sighed in contentment, her eyes closed, squirming gently. Not long had passed before the dutiful girl had cleaned her mistress thoroughly, ending her task with loving kisses of devotion. Alexandra rolled gently off to the side while Lisette got on her hands and knees, moving over to between Mark's legs, He was serenely staring at the rafters and trying to catch his breath. Without waiting for any particular permission (not that any was forthcoming or needed), she took hold of his still-swollen but softening cock and laved it with her mouth, once again thrilling to the taste of his cum mixed with her mistress'. She cleaned him off readily, loving how responsive he was to her touch. Finally, Alexandra rose to her feet and came to stand beside them. She pulled Lisette to her feet and wrapped her arms around the shorter girl, kissing her deeply and lovingly. Lisette melted into her embrace, submitting completely and with reverence. The kiss finally ended, and the patrician smiled down at Mark before offering her hand to help him up. "I found Lisette in Provence maybe three years ago, trapped in a tiny chapel and being disgraced by a priest. I ran him through with my blade and took her under my wing." "Mistress has had my undying devotion and unconditional love since then." Lisette added in very thick English, the first sounds of it she had offered. The phrase sounded almost practiced or rehearsed to Mark's ears, then he realized it probably was. Alexandra had taught Lisette what to say about herself once she had initiated a beginning statement she'd recognize. It was how they protected her in English, because it demonstrated the depth to which they were devoted to one another; Alexandra would kill a man of God for Lisette, and there was nothing in creation she would not do for her mistress. "I believe it," Mark replied, nodding. "I'm glad she saved you, Lisette, and Alexandra's lucky to have you." Lisette was taken off-guard by what Mark had said once her blonde mistress had translated for her, and she blushed and looked at the floor. It occurred to Mark that she probably wasn't used to anyone aside from Alexandra expressing any concern about her life or safety. She was just another peasant, after all. "Let us clean ourselves lightly and then prepare for a light meal and then bed, shall we?" Lady D'assaut suggested. "Mark, I do not know if you are a man of faith or not, but Lisette and I usually have about an hour of devotional time just before we turn in. You may join us or do as you please, as long as you're respectfully quiet." Mark nodded and joined the pair in going to another room that was clearly dedicated to bathing, something he doubted was all that common in this time and place. Lady Alexandra really was out of the ordinary. He watched with interest as Lisette helped her mistress into the large, round wooden tub, under which a contained fire was glowing. Easily big enough for the three of them (no doubt by design, he thought), he allowed himself to be helped in before the two women began washing him, giggling as they used tiny packets of powdered soap and their bodies to make sure he was clean all over. "Normally, to come across water like this is rare and expensive," Alexandra explained as she knelt patiently and looked at him while Lisette squeezed her tits into her mistress magnificent orbs, lathering her. "But this particular building has an underground stream running below it, so retrieving water from a well in the courtyard is comparatively simple. And I do love to be clean." "I can get behind that." Mark agreed. "Maybe in the morning." Alexandra quipped readily, winking at him. They finished bathing and then Lisette dutifully dried them both off. Linen shifts were provided and then Mark sat with his host in the study while Lisette prepared a light meal for them all. He'd never eaten a pigeon before, but it was surprisingly good. Small nibs of sweetened chocolate comprised dessert, and of course there was the wine. Once they had finished, Alexandra and her companion excused themselves and went into another small room to say their devotionals for maybe an hour. Then they invited Mark to come and sleep with them in Alexandra's massive, plush bed, covered in crimson sheets threaded with gold. Everyone removed their linen shifts and clambered into bed. Alexandra and Lisette kissed one another and then Mark goodnight. In spite of having two naked women nestled into his sides, he slept surprisingly well. A Louvre Incarceration. The moon was a bright white orb overhead as Rebecca looked out the window from her stately bedroom. A tear glistened on her cheek, as it had every night since her abduction and arrival in Paris. Not only was she stuck here, in the Sun King's France, with no method of returning home, but she was the unwilling 'guest' of Cardinal Richelieu, who was seeing her trained to serve Queen Anne. Worse still, and what truly broke her heart, Mark was dead. Killed by the Cardinal's men and no doubt still lying in that fateful field, his body ravaged by scavengers. She bit her lip as tears started to roll down her face, willing herself not to break into sobs that everyone on this floor of the palace would hear. She buried her face in her hands and surrendered to the grief, shuddering as she wept, not caring about the moon framing her in rays of silvery light. She was so alone. Mark had to exercise patience that morning, since they were eating a leisurely breakfast and casually discussing matters. But the matters were nothing of import, at least not from his point of view; they were not improvising plans to save Becky, which was foremost on his mind. Alexandra was well aware of the agitation just under his calm surface and she finally sought to allay it. She smiled and put a hand on top of his as she sat next to him at the table. "My friend," she said gently in her impeccable English. "Worry not for your Rebecca." "How can you say that?" he asked, trying to keep any exasperation out of his voice. "It's all that really matters to me, not that I'm not grateful, of course. But I feel; I feel like we are dawdling." "I understand," she allowed, smiling her beautiful smile that would drive the clouds away. "But I assure you, she is in no immediate danger, now that she is in the Louvre. And as you have already noted, she has been there for a month. We cannot simply rush in and storm the palace, because we would be risking her life, along with many others, not the least of which is my queen, Anne." He sighed and nodded. "But you are helping me rescue her, right? As in, we free her from the palace and she and I can get away, find my time machine and go home?" She smirked and nodded. Maybe she didn't blame him for his suspicions. "Yes, Mark. That is the only end here. I cannot remain indebted to our mutual associate Chester Edgeworth, especially not since this is one of his temporal matters. I want nothing to do with them, so leaving; oh, what is the term; 'loose ends', if you will, does not suit me. It pains me to say so, since I like you, but with any luck, I will never see you again once we have rescued your Rebecca." She smiled and squeezed his hand again. "Please trust me. And exercise patience. I already have a plan in mind, I just need more information from the palace." "Oh, okay," he said finally, hoping he wasn't being unreasonable. "Just out of sorts, I guess. Not a lot of experience with the Baroque Period." She tilted her head slightly and smirked. "Baroque Period? Is that what people in your time refer to this era as?" Mark shrugged. "Yeah, I dunno why." "In my language, baroque refers to an oddly-shaped pearl," she mused. "You might have a better understanding of my time and history than I do, in retrospect." "I doubt it," he chuckled, put at ease once again by her gracious manner. "I never really had much of a head for history. Might actually be pretty skewed, since everything I know comes from movies and novels written by people from your future." "I don't know what a 'movie' is, but I think it's best I not either," she mentioned, stroking his wrist. "Once Lisette has finished serving dejeuner, she will proceed to the palace to see what she can find out. While it is known that I am back in Paris, I do not want to appear just yet for my royal duties. Maybe later today or tomorrow. While the Cardinal cannot absolutely confirm that I am more than a lady-in-waiting for the Queen, I wish to not give him any reason to start looking." "Fair enough," Mark allowed. "So, what'll we do until then?" "While I could indeed provide endless hours of pleasant discourse for you, I think that would not be the best idea, since you are a man of tomorrow." Alexandra pointed out. "And, to be honest, I am rather smitten with your lovely cock at the moment. So, I was thinking that we might continue to fuck one another until it is time for us to undertake your mission." Mark laughed. "Yeah, I'm good with that. "Becky would think I had gone totally stupid if I didn't agree to kill time that way." "I do not know her yet and I think I love her," Alexandra mused, smirking. Her sapphire eyes glittered with delight. "We shall make the most of our time together." They went back to eating their breakfast, prepared by Lisette, and if Mark found the fare unusual, he certainly couldn't complain about the taste. Sausages, hearty bread, along with some vegetables and a broth. A new delicacy to the Sun King's France, Chantilly cream, rounded out the meal, and she promised him that later they would share of bottle of a very special new type of wine, from the region of Champagne. Lisette had dressed and excused herself, heading off to the Louvre to find out information for her Mistress. This left Mark alone with Alexandra, and if he was feeling any awkwardness, she certainly wasn't. She smiled and shed her clothes, exposing her glorious body. She took him by the hand and led him back to her bedroom, smiling at him. "Not to seem indelicate, Mark, but; have you ever fucked a girl in her behind before?" she asked. He nodded. "Done it with Becky more than a few times recently. And yeah, I'd really like to fuck yours." She smiled, pleased with his response. "Excellent, it has been a while for me, at least since a man has done it to me." "Lisette certainly has her uses." Mark chuckled. "More than you can ever know, my friend," she agreed as she stood in front of him and helped remove his clothing. She was close enough that her tits pressed to his chest, her hips touched his and her cunt was nestled against his cock, which was beginning to swell. She looked up into his eyes, her own glinting with desire. "I look forward to feeling you in my ass, Mark." She put her arms around him and pressed her lips to his, kissing him deeply. He was thrilled by her assertiveness, even if she wasn't being dominant. His own hands rested on her hips before starting to wander around her divine form, finally finding her ass cheeks, squeezing and massaging them, making Alexandra moan. "What I am starting to appreciate about you men of the future is that you enjoy lovemaking and carnal activity for its own sake," she purred, one of her hands now sliding down to find his cock and stroking it. "You seem free of the confines of the church's strictures, proscribing pleasure through sexual activity." "Not much point in doing it if you don't enjoy it," he agreed, shivering as her nipples poked against his chest while she squirmed her tits around. She bit his lower lip and tugged back on it, wiggling her ass cheeks against his hands. "And you seem to enjoy it a lot for someone from this time." She broke their kiss to look up at him again, her eyes flashing with her growing to fuck. Her hand was fondling his cock, which was now rigid and pulsing. "In my service to the queen, sex is often a weapon I employ. I am required to be proficient in its use to defend her and the realm." "Lucky me," he breathed as she knelt in front of him, dragging her opulent tits down his torso before arriving at his phallus. He shuddered as she began kissing his cockhead before slowly sliding him into her mouth and down her throat. "Uh, God. Beck; I mean, Alexandra." She giggled and pulled her mouth off his cock to look up at him in amusement, her hands still stroking. "Our techniques are that similar? It took much training for me to be this good, if the women of your time are this competent with ease, then I am jealous." She buried his cock in her mouth again, bobbing back and forth lustily and making him shiver and grasp at her golden locks. Her own hand snaked down between her legs and began playing with her increasingly wet cunt, teasing it. She knew they had at least a few hours before Lisette's return and she intended to make the most of them. Mark groaned and fought to control himself, little or no match for her exquisite technique. He knew he'd have to fuck her soon, or he'd be cumming in her mouth. And he was really looking forward to fucking her ass, as she intended. "Hmm," she purred, popping her mouth off of his cock and smiling slyly while sliding her tongue up the underside as she held it up. "Would you care for a chance to reciprocate, lover?" He nodded, and she stood before pulling him onto the bed. She laid him on his back and then crawled over him, facing down his body. She didn't suck on him again, so much as she toyed with his cock to keep him hard, while allowing him to kiss and lick her slick, pliant snatch. Mark buried his tongue inside her and Alexandra moaned loudly, pumping his cock. Mark slid his tongue in and out of her, marveling at her taste. He also began teasing her little knot, slipping the tip of his finger into her ass, making her groan shamelessly. She wriggled back against him, her glorious behind swaying above his face while her cunt pressed to his mouth. His finger pushed further inside her ass, wiggling about, exploring her. He gently added another and she keen as his fingers stretched her knot, preparing her for his cock. She was gasping now, her body incredibly warm and her skin flush with desire. She lunged his cock back into her mouth again, bobbing up and down hungrily. She pulled herself off his tongue and fingers, squirming down his body until she was straddling his cock. She eagerly slid his throbbing cock inside her cunt, causing him to stiffen and arch his back. She rode up and down lustily on him, while reaching back and pulling her ass cheeks apart. Mark took the hint and began fingering her puckered hole again, making sure it stayed limber and ready to receive him when she was ready. He shuddered as she squeezed herself around him, rippling her cunt wickedly until they were both sweating and shaking. Then she looked back at him and he nodded. She pulled off his cock and spun herself around, now facing him. She put on hand on his chest to steady herself, while the other reached back and took hold of his tool, helping to guide it to her quivering notch. Her felt it press against her ring, slippery with her cunt juices and then popping through readily. Alexandra sighed as she slowly but steadily settled down, taking him inside her back passage. Within seconds, he was buried to the hilt inside her. They both sat still for several seconds, just reveling in the feel of their union. Alexandra began slowly moving up and down, Mark's cock sliding inside her ass. She pulled up until only the head was inside her, then sank back down, taking him all the way back in. Mark's hands moved up to her opulent tits and began caressing and squeezing them. She murmured in pleasure at his touch and clenched her cheeks, squeezing him tightly inside herself. "Yes, I will certainly miss this," she breathed, her eyes closed. "You are so deep inside me." He pushed his hips up and down in rhythm with her movements, his fingers now rolling around her nipples, pinching and tugging on them, the sting sending taboo thrills lancing through her. Her fingernails pressed against the skin of his chest before she leaned down and kissed him heatedly, their tongues tangling. The change in the angle of penetration meant she rocked back and forth along his length now. His hands moved down to cup her ass cheeks again, massaging them in circles and pulling them apart, making her whimper in delight. Their bodies churned and writhed against one another heatedly, mingling in pleasure. Their kissing became more fevered as tingling warmth enveloped them both. Then panted through the kiss, with Mark bracing his legs to thrust himself up deeper inside her while she braced her hands outside his shoulders and pushed back against him, burying his cock deeper in her ass than ever. Sweat shone on their skin as she pulled back from the kiss and started down into his eyes. Mark shook uncontrollably and groaned loudly, pushing up with all his might. Alexandra sighed and sat up tall, sinking onto him as he began pumping his cum into her ass. Her knot clenched greedily, throbbing around him as he filled her tight confines with his essence. She massaged her cunt frantically, her fingers flying over her clit. She bathed his groin with her cum. Colors swirled behind her eyes as the climax permeated her being. She couldn't remember the last time a man had made her cum so hard. Not since; She shuddered and collapsed on top of Mark, trembling. He lay beneath her, his hands tiredly coming to rest on her lower back. They lay in exhausted bliss together, unwilling to move. His cock throbbed in her ass, which gripped him possessively, unwilling to relinquish his prize. He showed no sign of softening, which she was thankful for, since she was deliciously pinned to him. A full hour-hour passed before they stirred. She smiled down at him before kissing him again. She rocked on his stiff cock before slowly pulling off and then laying on her side, pressed to him. She kissed his jaw, whispering words of gratefulness to him. She felt the need to do so, since there was a distinct possibility that these might be his last days alive, given the danger they would face in rescuing Rebecca. Alexandra had sworn to try and help him, and she would do everything she could, so long as it did not compromise her service to the queen. She couldn't tell him exactly how much planning and detail this required as a result, since letting the silly boy know the extreme danger he was about to face might make him balk at a crucial moment and then death was inevitable. She could only hope that his excellent physical health and desperation would see him through. It was all they had. Lisette would be back soon, and it would time to plan their mission. God help us all. Rebecca sat in her chair at the small desk of her bedroom, scowling as she drained her glass of red wine, the fourth she'd had in the past hour. She knew she was drunk, but she was too sullen and angry to feel it. She'd done little except drink since she'd been brought to the Louvre. Except for when she was heading to bed, she was rarely alone, surrounded by women who dressed her as a lady of the court and attempted to train her in her duties. She proved predictably reticent, although she had stopped punching her handlers over the last week or so. It wasn't their fault, after all. A few of them seemed worried about her well-being if she continued to prove so difficult, but Becky was mostly beyond caring. What did she have to look forward to, now? Life amongst these backward, stymphian midgets? She had a distinct feeling she was better off dead. She sighed and opened another bottle, pouring her fifth glass of the evening. Oblivion in wine was all she looked forward to. "Oh, there you are. I was hoping to meet you;” lilted an attractive voice from her door. Facing away from the entrance to her room, Becky looked up into the mirror on the wall, and saw a striking silhouette standing in the entranceway. A tall woman in a burgeoning gown stood there, apparently waiting for permission to enter. Slowly she turned around, hoping her eyes weren't too bleary with wine and grief. She rose from her chair and stood quietly, holding her hands primly in front of herself. She dipped her knees slightly in a curtsey, just in case this was Anne of Austria. The figure came into the room slowly, approaching her. The lamps and candle finally illumined her, and Becky's breath was taken away; the woman was stunning! Golden blonde hair spilled down her back, while her sapphire eyes gleamed with a sensual intelligence. Her face was classically beautiful and her impressive bust sat high inside her dress, the cleavage prominently displayed, as was typical of the court. Becky felt a tingle inside herself as she approached. "You are Rebecca, oui?" the woman asked, her voice glorious in Becky's ears. She stopped in front her and smiled dazzlingly before returning the curtsey. "I am Alexandra D'assaut, one of her majesty's ladies. I am pleased to finally meet you." "I; it is a pleasure to meet you, too, my lady." Becky said falteringly. This woman was more beautiful than she thought possible for someone of this era. "I know you are new to the palace, and it is rumored that the circumstances of your arrival were less than ideal," continued Alexandra. "You are even more beautiful than I have been told, Rebecca, and I sense a great sadness in you." She stepped even closer to Becky, who bit her lip and swallowed slightly. Their tits were almost touching, and she could feel her heart thumping in her chest. "But I say to you now, my friend, despair not and take heart," Alexandra said in a voice barely above a whisper, as if what she was saying was a secret meant only for Rebecca. "The days to come will give you hope." Becky didn't know what this woman meant, but she wanted to believe her. The ache in her heart lessened slightly. They stared into one another's blue eyes quietly, lost in what they saw. And then Alexandra leaned in and pressed her lips to Becky's, kissing her gently. Becky did not retreat from the kiss, although it was a second or two before she could react. She then moaned slightly and returned the kiss. The two women moved closer, tits pressing as they held one another by the arms and continued to kiss. Becky trembled, thrilling to the intimacy they shared. Alexandra pulled back from the kiss, a tempting strand of desire hanging between their lips. They both breathed as they stared, but she finally smiled and delicately used her finger to wipe the strand from their lips. "You will see me again soon, my friend," she cooed, her fingers gently caressing Becky's cheek. "I look forward to our reacquaintance." She backed up two steps and curtseyed gracefully, compelling Becky to hastily do the same, before she turned and glided out of the room, like a vision. Becky unsteadily sat back in her chair and let out a heavy sigh. Her heart was still pounding, and for the first time in weeks, she felt something other than heartache. Becky turned back to her bottle, trying to distract herself from the unexpected throb in her loins. "Your majesty." Alexandra said reverently, her curtsey deep and formal. "I have come to speak with you about a matter of some concern." Sitting in an ornate chair in the lavish boudoir, Anne of Austria, probably the most famous woman in Christendom, smiled at her trusted servant. "You have only just returned from Spain, my dearest Alexandra, and you have yet another matter to bring before me?" Alexandra nodded humbly, her hands in her lap. "Yes, my queen. Though it pains me to do so, I must beg a boon and ask you to trust me." "My trust in you is implicit, Alexandra D'Assaut, and needs no confirmation. Has it ever?" the queen intoned, gesturing for Alexandra to approach her, while waving for her attendants to live them alone. The two women curtseyed and exited quickly. Alexandra knelt in front of Anne and put her hand on the queen's knee in supplication, not looking up. "Your majesty, a beautiful young woman has recently been added to your retinue, and is set to enter your service within the next few weeks." Anne smiled and nodded. "I have not met her, but I am told she is quite possibly the only woman in France who rivals you in beauty. Her name is Rebecca, oui?" "Just so, my queen." Alexandra confirmed. "Do you wish for her to serve directly under you as a lady of the court?" Anne asked, knowing full well that Alexandra also enjoyed the company of woman, not merely men. "She is indeed breathtaking to behold, my queen, but no, that is not my request of you. The girl, Rebecca, do you know how she was brought to Paris?" Anne considered. "The rumor is that she was found by the Cardinal, who was convinced she would make a magnificent addition to my household. She did not come willingly, initially, and has proven somewhat intractable since." Alexandra nodded. "It is as you say, your majesty. But I know something about this woman that not even the Cardinal knows or can begin to guess at." The queen frowned slightly. "She is not a danger to us, is she?" "Not as such, no," Alexandra admitted. "But please accept my word on faith that we have no right to her and must not keep her." Anne tilted her head. "Is she secretly a member of a royal family?"

Kendrick Lamar DOMINATES Grammys 2026, Hip-Hop Died, Max B Is Home | Club Ambition Podcast Episode 215Sponsored by:Rhode Island Education Collective | https://rieducationcollective.org/ Dave's Hot Chicken | located in Middletown R.I. Mother Earth Wellness long term announcement | Promo code “ambition10' for 10% off your purchase https://motherearthri.com/ Lil Rhody Laugh Riot Comedy Festival: https://www.lilrhodylaughriot.com/GoFundMe for Woonsocket family https://www.gofundme.com/f/in-memory-of-kimberly-and-donald-support-jazmyn and https://www.gofundme.com/f/aid-for-kims-daughter-in-her-time-of-need?fbclid=IwY2xjawN-R8hleHRuA2FlbQIxMABicmlkETFtZTI5bFR1V2E2SFdzUUpHc3J0YwZhcHBfaWQQMjIyMDM5MTc4ODIwMDg5MgABHnWXPGGEUIoIpltonMskY0ANW8KmOwSmr2JWM7ywwnQ_qMvoqg4BvQFmXMpS_aem__AOpC21xz12IKJn2HY8FUw#kendricklamar #grammys #maxb timestamps* Intro Max B home finally 0:00* Grammy 2026 predictions & Kendrick leading noms 11:30* Hip Hop died? 32:00* Max B home again breakdown 48:22* WWE vs Westside Gunn, boycott them 54:30* Sports scams revealed UFC MLB 1:03:30* Michael Jackson trailer 1:17:10* Outkast Rock hall of fame 1:38:08 * Rosalia's new album LUX review 1:45:09* GTA delay 1:46:55* pr*stit*tes at Buckingham palace 1:54:00* Sydney Sweeney movie flops 2:00:00* Pluribus new show 2:08:06* Local news 2:14:20- Noel ZOHRAN KWAME MAMDANI 2:40:00https://linktr.ee/clubambitionUNCUT PATREON https://www.patreon.com/ClubAmbitionDISCORD COMMUNITY: https://discord.com/invite/M8Kmha8UqvMERCH: https://clubambition.shopListen To Podcasts: https://podcasters.spotify.com/pod/show/clubambitionWatch Spanish Podcast El Po K: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BqOENhDvdQ0&list=PLNukP3hLjNb_ITL34h3Gjue3z9KWiF-px Watch CAP: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W4YVeSYZi28&list=PLNukP3hLjNb_zwvsdwqTOGvgBb-_Ym2mL&pp=gAQBiAQBFOLLOW US!Podcast IG: https://www.instagram.com/clubambitionpodcast/Owner/Host/Editor | SOUND: https://www.instagram.com/itsavibe/CAP Co-Host / Producer | Marloon: https://www.instagram.com/imfromthe401/CAP Co-Host | Noel: https://www.instagram.com/noelfrias_/El Po K Host | Maestro Vitiko: https://www.instagram.com/vitiko_baez_el_po_k?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet&igsh=ZDNlZDc0MzIxNw==El Po K Co-Host | Locotron: https://www.instagram.com/iambenjaminrd?utm_source=ig_web_button_share_sheet&igsh=ZDNlZDc0MzIxNw==Graphic Designer | Edwin: https://www.instagram.com/edrebels/TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@clubambition/Twitter: https://twitter.com/ClubAmbition__/-----------------------------------------------------------Want a promote your music or hire us for marketing?Email us if interested in business! - ClubAmbition401@gmail.com-------------------------------------------------------------RIP: Nipsey, Mac, XXXtentacion, Juice, Pop, Von, DMX, Virgil, Dolph, Takeoff, RHQ, CLARK KENT---------------------------------------------------------------------COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNERS

The conversation explores the significant shift in political affiliations among university professors and other professionals over the past 60 years, highlighting a pronounced liberal bias in academia and the tech industry. It discusses the implications of these trends on political discourse and the representation of diverse viewpoints in various fields.Eric Kaufmann is Professor of Politics at The University of Buckingham and Director of the Centre for Heterodox Social Science. He directs Buckingham's new MA in the Politics of Cultural Conflict and PhD in Cultural Politicsas well as its open online course on Woke: the Origins, Dynamics and Implications of an Elite Ideology.Become an official member of the podcast : https://www.patreon.com/bajadadialogues Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

The Time Riders: Part 3 What happens when you mix clock-block with priapism? Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Ain't Nobody Got Time For That Shit! Mark and Becky sat in the small cottage, looking around in wonder. They were still in Seventeenth Century France, but found themselves surrounded by technologies that they hadn't even heard of. The walls were lined with clocks, some of which were mechanical, some seemed to be digital or binary, while others told time in ways they couldn't fathom. Sitting across from them at the stout, round oaken table, Chester Edgerton smoked a pipe and observed them casually. "How; how can you have this all out on display?" Mark asked, still gaping. "I mean, isn't it against the rules to have this sort of tech from the future lying around where the locals might bump into it?" "That's the beauty of it, my' boy," he said cheerfully, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "They can't see it." "Well, I get it if you try to restrict entry to your house," Mark pressed, wanting to understand. "But what if you're gone and bandits break in? Becks and I can account for banditry in this day and age, for sure." "Mayhap," the man replied. "But I brought you through the door that leads to my actual house. The front door, the one the local peasantry sees, leads into a simple cottage, typical of the period, and owned by a pudgy man of indeterminate nationality." "Your; house is in two places at once?" Mark asked, trying to understand. "No, it's the same place," Chester answered simply. "Two different times, however. We're sitting in my actual abode, Twenty-First Century." Mark shook his head. "That's some weird Tardis shit right there." "Only at first." Chester allowed. "I notice you have all your windows shut," Becky remarked. "You said we're in the Twenty-First Century, but I take from further ahead than Mark and I are from, so you're not showing us?" "Clever girl," mused the man, smiling. "While I won't absolutely stop you from looking or even going outside, I would warn you that if you do and see something you don't like, you're committing yourself to that future, no matter how hard you try to undo it." "We'll stay put then," she said readily. "You were kind enough to bring us here and sort of explain how we might acquire goods in the time stream?" He nodded. "I know it might seem counter-intuitive, but the simple fact of the matter is that if people are going to insist on time travelling, the least they can do is be well-prepared for it so they don't hurt themselves or others." He leaned forward. "The first question you need to ask yourself is, why are you so intent on time-travelling to begin with? Is it simple curiosity? Are you planning to make a living somehow? Are you just trying to get laid?" He looked at Mark during this last question and the young man blushed, while Becky giggled and patted his hand. "Mark was a dud in Physics in his last year of high school," she explained. "Come to think of it, he was in little or no danger of getting into any post-secondary education facility." "Thanks." Mark muttered. "But, then he found his time machine, something called a Holmes Field Device, and he resolved to go back in time a few months and convince me to give him an A in Physics with the promise of earth-shaking sex." "This story sounds worse every time I hear it." Mark complained. "Fortunately, I acquiesced, rather than disemboweling him for breaking into my home, and not only did we become lovers, but now we're adventuring the time stream together." "Hmm, a teacher and a student, eh?" mused the man, smiling at them as he smoked. "Teachers and students are plentiful, of course, but they're usually from the far, far future and on very strictly-controlled excursions into the past. Hands-on history classes, if you will." "That makes history sound kinda fun." Mark said. "Oh, I daresay it is," agreed Chester. "Nothing quite as exciting as going back to the Cretaceous Period and taking a ride on the back of a trained Styracosaurus. Or watching Dromer races." "Isn't that screwing with the timeline?" Becky inquired. "I mean, humans weren't around for another sixty-three million years following the demise of the dinosaurs." "It's all very carefully regulated on remote islands," Chester explained. "It does nothing to mess with the ecosystem and the specimens are trained to interact with humans, for the most part." "Riding one of those big horned dinosaurs would be a kick." Mark mused, grinning. "You've already got a perfectly good horn I like to ride," Becky giggled, squeezing his hand again. "Besides, this is where our host tells us that it won't be possible for us any time soon." "You're a very perceptive young lady," he allowed. "We can't have just anyone mucking up the time stream, you know. It's especially difficult when people who lived before time travel was commonly accepted try to get involved. They inevitably get exposed to technologies they shouldn't be aware of, or events that weren't known during their own time;” "I'll give you a tiny example," he said, leaning forward now, as if he was confiding a secret. "Have you heard of the Tunguska Incident?" "Sure, the Tunguska region in Siberia, 1908," Becky answered, nodding. "A large meteor slammed into the ground, creating a blast equal to sixty megatons and flattening everything for nearly a hundred miles around." "No, that's what you need to think," he corrected, pointing the stem of his pipe toward them. "It was, in fact, an advanced weapon that was stolen from a future date, and before temporal agents could recover it, the thieves blew it up to cover their escape. Granted, there are people in your time who have conspiracy theories about nuclear blast, nearly forty years before the first atomic tests, but they're wrong as well. It wasn't a nuclear device, simply a weapon with an incredibly high conventional yield by your age's standards." "So; why can you tell us this now?" Becky asked. He grinned and spread out his arms in a gesture of farce. "Who would believe you?" "So how did you know that we were time travelers?" Mark asked as they followed their host and guide through the woods. "Well, I heard snippets of your conversation," Chester said as he led the way. "But to be honest, even though your outfits might pass with locals for 'reasonably authentic', you couldn't possibly hide your origins from a fellow time-traveler. Mark claimed to be Spanish, he doesn't look at all Spanish, certainly not from this era. Miss Rebecca is remarkably tall for a woman." "Well there's something I don't hear very often back home!" she giggled. "And you're both in strangely good health, with unblemished skin and full heads of hair," Chester added. "I was relatively certain, and then I heard you discussing your relative inexperience, so I sought to introduce myself." "I'd' have thought that you wouldn't introduce yourself to newbies," Mark stated, helping Becky over a log. "Isn't it safer to keep your chatter to people who know what they're doing?" "It's actually the exact opposite," replied Chester. "The best thing you can do around veteran time travelers you don't need to talk to is to not talk to them. Their timelines are probably very intricate and you don't want yours getting snarled up with them. Newbies, as you call them, probably still have linear experiences that are simple to understand and educating them about what awaits is the simplest way to keep things from getting weird." Getting up to leave the cottage, Mark asked; "So this device the time cops gave me," Mark stated, holding up his chronometer. "It's actually pretty useful then, because it warns me when I'm getting too close to myself or something I've affected." "That was very generous of them," Chester said in a serious tone. "They don't do that for just everyone who shows up suddenly in the time stream. Sometimes they let matters work themselves out, if you know what I mean." Chester's Forest Farewell.  The meadow they stepped into, had a mature lush forest further back. They reached a small clearing in the forest they'd been tromping through and stopped for a bit, sitting on a fallen tree trunk. Chester looked at them both and slapped his hands on his thighs. "Now then, I've brought you here so that you can witness a casual event that is due to happen just outside the woods. Nothing major, but it will give you a taste of what can await you. I have something to attend to and should be back in a few hours. Just stay out of sight and don't leave the tree line." "You're leaving?" Mark protested. Chester turned to look at him. "It might be that the events you will see unfold work better for me if I am nowhere near them," the man replied. "Fear not, I shall return. Enjoy yourselves." And then he walked into the woods and was gone. Mark looked around and finally sighed. "Helluva way to mentor someone," he muttered as he stood to take in a panoramic context. "Take 'em somewhere and then just fuck off? Nice." "He's not your mentor, Mark," Becky chided, sitting on a log and smiling at him. "He's a fellow time traveler who is doing you a favor. He's given you plenty of valuable information free of charge already, something I doubt he does frequently." "Well, okay," Mark allowed. "So, we just wait until we see something happen?" "No idea when that'll be, he didn't really tell us, did he?" Becky pointed out. "Yup," Mark sighed. "So, now what?" Becky tilted her head slightly as she looked at him, like there was something wrong with his brain. "Here's an idea. How about you come over here and fuck me?" Mark was so determined to be bent out of shape for having no instructions that he'd overlooked the completely obvious. He laughed and stepped forward, pulling Becky to her feet. They were holding their hands between them and staring into one another's eyes, smiling. "Now this is what time travel is all about," she purred, her eyes shining with delight. "You're going to fuck me in the woods in Louis the Sun King's France, Mark. For all we know, this is some sort of royal ground and we're trespassing. How many people can say they've done that?" "Just the lucky ones;” he replied, beginning to unfasten the clasps on her dress, freeing her chest from its confines. As the dress fell away, she was left standing on in a low-cut, blouse-like shirt and some panties, having chosen to forego the usual layers of buntlings and knickers. She bit her lip as he pulled her blouse over her head, exposing her glorious tits. Kneeling now, he slowly slid her panties down, feeling a thrill as her hairless, smooth cunt came into view. She stepped out of the tiny thong panties, letting him drink in the sight of her. Yes, he'd been with her for over a week now in France, but he never tired of seeing her beautiful body. "Your turn now, my lord." Becky whispered as she began removing his clothing, peeling away the layers until he was as naked as herself. She stood up again and moved close, her nipples gently kissing against his chest. Unable to hold back any more, Mark pulled his teacher to him and kissed her deeply, making Becky moan into his mouth. Their hands wandered over one another's now-familiar forms, seeking to stimulate, tease and pleasure. His hands found her pert ass cheeks and he squeezed them, causing her to moan again. "Hmm, can't wait to get some grass stains on this dress," she murmured, looking up into his eyes. "And maybe a few on my knees." She slowly knelt in front of Mark, kissing and nipping at his skin on the way down. His swelling phallus was in front of her face now and she licked her lips hungrily before taking gentle hold and kissing it. Mark closed his eyes and shivered, loving the feel of her lips on him. Everything about his teacher was incredible. He was just sorry it had taken so long to realize it. Becky now had the head of his cock inside her warm, wet mouth, swirling her tongue around flicking the tip of her tongue against him. She giggled as his rod throbbed and grew longer and harder. She loved how turned on he could get by her, it made her feel so primal and sexual. She then slid her mouth a little further down his shaft before pulling back, shivering in delight at the sight of his glistening skin. Mark's fingers were in her hair and flexing gently as she began to bob back and forth, taking more and more of him into her mouth. She hummed lightly, vibrating her lips around him and making him groan. Her hand rested on the shaft, pumping as it followed her lips, making a gentle twisting motion on the sensitive skin. Becky loved sucking cock, and Mark's was ridiculously perfect for her, in just about every possible way. She hoped that wouldn't be a problem down the road. She took gentle hold of his hips with both hands and moved back and forth along his shaft, breathing through her nose as she deep-throated him. Mark groaned in pleasure, his fingers flexing into her scalp and tugging her hair. She looked up at him, maintaining eye contact, which she knew he found so erotic. She could feel his skin growing warm and knew now was the time to stop and change things up if she intended to have his cock inside her. There was indeed one good thing about them being out of sync, with her current self three months behind him; they already knew she wasn't pregnant in his current timeline, so he could cum deep inside her as much as they liked. She pulled her mouth off his with a wet 'pop!' and smiling seductively. "I'm thinking maybe my girl wants to say hello too;” she purred. Mark nodded and spread out her dress before lying down on it, his rock-hard cock standing straight up and throbbing. Becky crawled over him, straddling his face, her creamy, wet cunt mere inches from his mouth. She faced down his body, giggling and he snaked his tongue out to taste her, but she kept her prize just out of reach. "So that's how it is, eh?" he said from below her before suddenly wrapping his arms around her thighs and pulling down on them and causing her to lurch unexpectedly (for her) onto his eager mouth. Becky shuddered and moaned loudly as his tongue snaked along and massaged her nether lips, before flickering against her throbbing clit to make her gasp and almost double over. "No fair;” she panted, trying to regain control of herself, but Mark seemed inclined to cheat. He kept her pinned to him, leaving her to squirm helplessly above him while he lashed her with his tongue. "Uh, you bastard; yes, right there; Oh, God, Mark;” Her pleas exhorted him to even greater measures. He was determined to make her cum on his mouth at least once before they fucked. And he seemed to be pretty damned good at making her cum with oral sex, he had to say. Becky squirmed on top of him, playing wither tits, pinching and pulling on her pink nipples, her eyes squeezed shut, because it almost felt too good if she was looking at him. His eager tongue snaked deep inside her hungry cunt, making her wetter still. He had this maddening technique where he formed shapes or letters inside her with his tongue, reaching almost every nook and cranny of her. She whimpered, knowing he intended to make her cum and she was more than happy to oblige. She leaned forward while sitting on his face, reaching out to his twitching cock, caressing and massaging it gently; she didn't want him to cum, she just wanted to keep him stimulated. She felt the thrill of anticipation, knowing it would soon be inside her, pumping in and out, throbbing and finally releasing his creamy essence into her, something she accepted gladly because of the temporal mechanics between them. Mark sucked her clit into his mouth, rolling it around and making her shudder, groaning deeply as something started to build within her. She pushed down onto his face with her hips, grinding eagerly, while her clit throbbed. Then her released it and pushed his tongue deep inside her again, probing and lashing her until she was writhing and panting heavily. "Oh, God, Mark;” she gasped, sweat streaming from her sensual form. "Oh, fuck, yes, please; Uh, so close, baby;” He pushed into her as hard as he could and she jerked and squeaked arching her back. Her whole frame was wracked with pleasure as she cried out loudly, the orgasm crashing through her until she almost couldn't breathe. She shook violently, her eyes rolling into her head before she collapsed on top of him, her body limp and her chest heaving. Her limbs felt like tingling lead, but she managed to lift one to find his cock, determined to keep him hard until she had recovered. She stroked him gently while he kissed at her gooey nether lips, his face glistening with her cum. Fortunately, Becky was insatiable and recovered quickly, slowly rising and then sidling forward down his body so she could look back at him and smirk. "How about it, big boy?" she asked coyly. "You ready for the main event?" Mark grinned and nodded while she slithered down his body, finally hovering over his hips while facing his feet. She took hold of his throbbing cock and teased it against her slippery entrance before sinking down, making them both sigh in relief. "Hallelujah;” she moaned as he bottomed out inside her, filling her completely. "Oh, that's exactly what the doctor ordered." Mark nodded and took hold of her silken, pert ass cheeks and gripped them firmly, making his teacher purr. Becky loved having her ass played with, and while she began to sink up and down slowly on his cock, he massaged the peach-like orbs, eliciting moans from her when he spread them wide, giving her a delicious stretch. "Hmm, get me nice and ready back there," she cooed as she moved up and down on him. "Because once you're done in my cunt, I want you in my ass and I want to feel your cum in it." Mark nodded eagerly, because he loved fucking Becky's ass. Her cunt was incredibly tight, but even that couldn't match her exquisite back passage, which gripped him so strongly and always made him cum so hard he thought he might faint. His fingers teased against her little puckered, pink knot, sending the most divine tingles through her luscious body. Becky undulated on him, picking up the pace and counting on Mark to control himself until her was in her ass. She bit her lower lip, working herself on that thick, throbbing tool, pulling up until it was almost out of her and then sinking back down in one long stroke, filling her completely. Her heart was strumming in her chest as she thrilled to the notion of the oncoming climax. She was hissing now, struggling to hold on just a few seconds longer, to draw out this wonderful pleasure for them both. But then she felt the point of no return and willingly stepped over it, moaning loudly as her cunt fluttered and she began to cum, hard. She wailed and rocked on her lover, bathing his middle with her excitement. Her head lolled for several seconds as she came down from her orgasm, but she remembered that she still had Mark inside her and needed him, promised him, that he would be cumming in her ass. Slowly, lethargically, she raised herself until his cock fell out of her, still rock-hard and yearning for more. For such a young man, he had exceptional control. She inched forward, until she felt his pulsing head teasing against her notch. She reached underneath herself and took hold of the shaft, holding him steady while she pressed down, slowly but surely. She heard him groan as the head popped through her tight ring suddenly and then he was sliding inside her. It was Heaven. She sat still for several seconds, just reveling in the feel of him filling her ass. She felt the need to be sensual, and she leaned backward, until she was resting her back on his torso, her head next to his. But her knees were still bent and she groaned like she was going to burst, the angle of his penetration in this position more than she could bear. Whispering for him to wait patiently, she slowly, sinuously slid her legs out from beneath herself and straightened them, relaxing in pleasure as they rested on Mark's thighs. "Sorry, that would've downright killed me right now," she whispered to him, her glassy, heavily-lidded eyes looking into his. "And I wanted to be down her to kiss you and let you fondle me as you fucked me and came in me." "Sounds like a plan," he agreed readily, his strong, but gentle hands coming up to rest on her opulent tits. Her began caressing and massaging them in circles while Becky started moving her ass on top of his cock, squeezing him inside her tight confines. "God, I love your ass, Becky." "Umm, it loves your cock, Mark," she purred, undulating on him, the throb of his tool being felt through her whole body like another heartbeat. "You always make me cum so hard;” They squirmed and ground together, with Mark tilting his hips up to push inside her while Becky squeezed him, the lovers shuddering as they kissed feverishly. His hands were squeezing her tits now, pinching and pulling on the nipples again to make her groan with the delicious sting. But Mark felt his climax approach and he knew it wouldn't be long before he was pumping his cum inside her. Becky moaned into his mouth as she felt his cock swelling and twitching erratically, a sure sign he was about to cum. She squeezed him tighter, feeling the buildup inside herself, yearning to share that unreal ecstasy. The groaned into one another mouths at first, but then the kiss was broken as they panted, fighting for air, their voices carrying around the woods they were in. He pushed up hard inside her, pulling down on her tits while she squeezed with all her might, his cum almost searing hot inside her, filling her up. Mark went limp, breathing heavily and clearly spent, not that he minded. Becky could barely move, bound in ropes of silken bliss that kissed every nerve in her body. Her own heartbeat plus the relentless throb of Mark's rigid cock, still oozing inside her, almost meant she didn't know how to center herself. But they relaxed together finally, kissing gently, eyes closed while they clasped hand on top of her tits. Tongues softly tangled, tasting one another while they let their rapture slowly ebb. Minutes passed and they lay silently, waiting for Mark's cock to soften so Becky could sit up. Finally, she giggled, squeezing his hands. "Feels like somebody doesn't wanna go to sleep," she said cutely, wiggling her ass on him, feeling her ass refusing to relinquish its hard-earned prize. "What're we gonna do?" "Iono," he said drowsily. "We just wait, I guess. If I try to have another orgasm right now, I'm pretty sure he'd just spontaneously combust inside you." "Alas, poor cock," she cooed, stroking his cheek. "I guess we happily wait, then." They closed their eyes and relaxed, waiting for Mark's erection to subside so that they could get up without difficulty. Their hands remained at rest on her tits while they nuzzled their cheeks together. Then there was a 'click!' sound. Arrest in Flagrante delicto. Becky's eyes snapped open and she goggled up at a man dressed in rather colorful and opulent period clothing, staring down at them as he pointed a flintlock rifle at their face. Looking around, she now saw they were surrounded by men carrying pikes and muskets, all of whom stared at the naked couple with varying level of interest. The man directly over them moved his musket muzzle, indicating they should sit up. Mark's eyes were open by now and he glanced around in confusion as well, clearly not understanding what had happened. The man's eyes narrowed and he moved the musket muzzle again. Becky, sensing the danger they were suddenly in, tried to move, but shivered; she was still impaled on Mark's solid cock, which had shown no signs of softening and kept her pinned against him. She couldn't get up. "Great time to develop priapism, Mark;” she said sourly. "Maybe Louis the Sun King's France just isn't for us after all," Mark sighed as he hiked along behind Becky, who had been stuffed hurriedly back into her dress while he was allowed to put on his breeches again. Neither of them even had shoes on as they followed the soldiers. Their hands were tied behind their backs. "This is twice now that we've;“ "I know, Mark, I was there," Becky said somewhat tersely, wondering if Chester Edgeworth was now someone she had to add to her shit list. She hated adding names to the shit list. "I guess we were so busy fucking that the event our host meant for us to witness has found us." "Tais-tois!" one of the men guarding them said as he walked nearby with a musket. "Vou ne pouvez-pas parler!" Becky scowled at the man and continued trudging. She wasn't really embarrassed about being caught fucking, it wasn't the first time it had happened to them here in France. But at least this lot had the decency to let her have an orgasm first before taking them prisoner. She couldn't even enjoy the grass stains on her clothes! They had exited the woods and were now tromping through a field, heading toward a much larger cluster of soldiers. Mark couldn't help but notice that a lot of them were wearing red. "Shit;” Becky muttered as she saw them as well. "That's all we need." "Huh?" Mark asked, but he was silenced when a soldier shoved him roughly from behind with his musket, indicating he was to stay quiet. They approached the encampment and Mark soon realized there were several hundred soldiers. The tents were spread out around one rather illustrious red tent of grand size. He then saw a cluster of cavaliers milling about and they seemed to be headed in that direction. Soldiers stared at them as they entered the perimeter of the camp, usually at Becky. Mark and Becky found themselves hauled in front of the cavaliers, who parted, making way for a single man on horseback. He was at least middle-aged, with a somewhat grey pallor to his skin and thin, hawk-like features. His expression was a rather lemony one, as if he felt inconvenienced by this entire incident. For all that, though, his dark eyes glinted with intelligence. He was wearing the flowing red habits of a high-ranking member of the Catholic church, although he had a burnished breastplate on his chest as well. "You stand in the presence of his Eminence, the Cardinal Richelieu," announced the captain of the troops that had taken them prisoner. Mark's eyes went wide. He didn't speak French, but he'd seen enough Three Musketeers movie reboots to know who Cardinal Richelieu was and exactly what sort of deep shit they were suddenly in. "Show respect!" Becky dropped to one knee and bowed her head, looking at the ground. Mark rapidly followed suit, since she probably had a better grasp of the situation than he did. He could feel everyone's eyes and on them and it was beginning to weigh heavily, like a yoke around his neck. His face flushed, but he said nothing. "Who are these persons?" the cardinal asked finally. "Your names, my children." "My name is Rebecca, your Eminence," Becky said humbly, still not looking up. "And you, good sir?" the Cardinal asked, looking over at Mark now. "M; me llamo Marco del strade, tu Eminencia." Mark stammered. "A Spaniard," mused the Cardinal, pursing his lips. "In the presence of a peasant girl. And you both have unusual accents, I admit." "Your Eminence," said one of the captains, looking at them suspiciously. "This man, why is he here traipsing about Champagne like this? With this peasant girl? We found them in the woods, doing unspeakable carnal acts to one another." The Cardinal's eyebrow arched and he looked on in seeming distaste. "You don't say." "Very likely he is a spy for King Phillip, your Eminence!" said the captain, almost sneering. "No, your Eminence," Becky said suddenly, her voice full of concern. "I assure you, he is no spy!" Mark hadn't heard or understood everything the Frenchmen were saying to one another, but he understood 'espion' and his teacher's reaction indicated that he was in some kind of trouble. Go figure. "And what grounds can you give me to believe you, child?" the Cardinal asked with feigned interest. "Please," she begged, her head still bowed. "You have my utmost assurances he is no spy, he's an idiot!" This made the men around them laugh and even Richelieu grunted in amusement. "Both of you rise." Mark saw Becky get to her feet and he did the same. All around them, men with pikes and muskets were watching them warily, some of them levelling weapons at the pair. Clearly they took the Cardinal's safety seriously. Richelieu observed them with interest. "The girl is very unusual," he mused. "Tall, very healthy and very beautiful. Very, very beautiful. I know only one other of such unmatched attractiveness." Mark wasn't sure where this was going, but he doubted it was good. The Cardinal's interest in him was waning. "And yet you say you found her acting in a most carnal and un-ladylike manner in the woods, hmm?" Richelieu continued. "Well, it certainly won't do for her to be out here alone in the countryside, rutting like a nymph, would it? Perhaps her majesty could make use of the girl, once we fix her atrocious accent." "My what?" Becky snapped, looking offended now. "Put her in the cart, we'll bring her to the capital, with regards to the Queen." Richelieu declared, turning his horse about and riding off. Men began to try and wrangle Becky into one of the carts, many of them laughing and leering as they took the opportunity to grope her. Gut shot. "Hey, stop that!" Mark said angrily, surging forward, but he suddenly found himself confronted by a captain, who stared at him impassively. There was a sudden and frightfully loud 'crack!' sound and Mark halted suddenly, his eyes wide. Becky's head snapped around at the noise and her eyes went wide. Blinking, Mark slowly looked down and saw there was a very red puncture hole in his abdomen. Sounds slowed down, taking on an almost syrupy quality and he started to feel confused. Becky screamed and tried to force her way to him, but she was being hustled away by many guards. The man who had shot him wandered off, sliding his flintlock pistol back into a holster, clearly no longer caring about Mark. Everyone seemed to be wandering off now. He felt cold, and vaguely nauseous. The ugly red wound in his stomach pulsed, blood welling from it slowly. He felt himself toppling over, white light bathing the field around him. He could still see things, but they seemed distant. He tried to focus on something, finally identifying Becky's voice as she screamed for him. He could just make out the soldiers wrestling her into a cart while she struggled and kicked savagely, her face contorted in rage. "I'll Get You For This, Richelieu!" she roared as Mark's world was absorbed by the soft white light. "You Just Made The Shit List Of High Doom!! See If I Ever Dance A Sarabande For You, Pal!" Mark bolted upright suddenly, gasping. His eyes were wide and he was covered in sweat. His heart thundered in his chest and he fought to control his panic. The white light was slowly replaced by close walls of grey stone. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to control his breathing. His hands bunched against sheets that were covering him. Finally, he could breathe normally and he tried to organize his thoughts. He still felt confused, everything a total jumble. "Calm yourself. Think!" He'd been fucking Becky in the woods. Apparently they were waiting for Cardinal Richelieu to go by, which he guessed passed for a historical event, seeing the man. But the Cardinal's soldiers heard the two of them and took them prisoner. Then they took Becky and Mark tried to stop them and got shot in the stomach; His eyes snapped open and he was frozen in place. He forced himself to look down at his middle, seeing that he was still covered in a sheet. His hand was trembling as he moved it slowly toward the heavy, dun-colored blanket, sweat trickling from his brow as he felt fear rise in his throat. He flung away the sheet suddenly, unable to bear not knowing. He wasn't bleeding. There was no puncture wound, only a strange, round scar about two inches in diameter. Eyes wide, he slowly lifted his head and looked around, now noticing his environs; he was indeed in a small bedroom, the curtains drawn to keep out the light and very little in the way of décor. Just a chair and a table in one corner, some other surfaces with candles spaced around the room. His bed was solid and comfortable. "Ah, there you are," Chester Edgerton said as he came through the door. "I was beginning to think you had no intentions of waking up." "Where;” Mark said somewhat feebly. "Back at my place," Chester answered, sitting down in the chair and settling in for what was no doubt going to be a long and perhaps trying conversation. "I found you lying in the middle of the field nearly a kilometer from where I'd left you and you were very close to dead." "How did I;” "You should have died," Chester continued. "But ultimately you wouldn't have, due to a time lock, I'm assuming. You weren't meant to die there in that field. Luckily for you, there are still plenty of ways to get yourself killed for doing absurd things." "Why did you leave us in the first place?" Mark asked. "I've been around Richelieu and several of his captains at various points in the time stream, and it's getting difficult to manage," Chest replied, shrugging. "Best way to deal with that issue is to simply not be present." "So why leave us there?" "To see Richelieu, of course," the man said simply. "One of history's truly great men, certainly more so than that twit of a king he serves. I was just trying to ease you into the idea of witnessing historical events. It never occurred to me that you'd be found because you made your teacher yodel like a Swiss Miss when you flagranting the delicto with her. I admit I hadn't planned for that nonsense." Mark blushed. "So, what, I wasn't meant to die here, so my body just healed itself?" Chester laughed. "Oh, no, dear boy, nothing of the sort. I came back to the woods, as promised, as when you weren't there, I began noticing the tracks of many solid shoes and boots in the vicinity. Not to mention the clothes you left behind." "Yeah, sorry, I was kinda tied up at the moment." Mark muttered. "In any event, I followed the tracks, noticed that Richelieu had broken camp and then found you. You'd been lying there for nearly three hours, you should have been dead from blood loss, but you weren't. I brought you back here, removed the ball from your stomach and then healed you." "You can do that?" Mark asked. "I thought you said you were a dealer in chroniques." "It helps to have a few irons in the fire and some hidden talents if you're going to mess around in the time stream," Chester replied. "But I was under no obligation to complicate my life and save you." "I guess I'm glad you did," Mark sighed. "Thanks. But wouldn't I have healed anyway?" "Yes, but maybe not fully," replied the enigmatic dealer. "You might've been found by some local peasants, brought back to their hovel and spent life as a weakened vegetable until you died of the Plague. People die in the past all the time, Mark, and everyone in their own era thinks they just disappeared and mourns them. It's frightfully common." "Can I; can I see the tools you used to heal me?" Mark asked hopefully. "Nope," Chester replied, shaking his head. "They're from your future by a few hundred years, the only reason I used them at all was because you were out cold." "Uh, how long was I out, anyway?" "Almost a month," Chester answered, smoothing a corner of his pencil moustache. "I had you fully healed and ready for action by the next day, to be honest, but you just refused to come to. So, I just left you to it, figuring you would wake up when you felt like it." "Oh, shit," Mark breathed, realizing something. "Where's Becky?" Chester raised his hands. "Why would I know? I wasn't there. What do you remember?" Mark tried to concentrate while Chester got up and poured a glass of water. Mark drank it thirstily and placed the glass on the table. He found himself wishing that he'd taken French instead of Spanish in school. He'd thought Spanish might be more useful, but all it did was get him shot. Fuck that. "I don't really speak French, so this is hard. Umm; they thought I was a spy because they thought I was Spanish." "Because you've been presenting yourself as Spanish while you're here," Chester mused. "In spite of your outrageous accent. France has been at war with Spain on and off for some time now." "Whatever," Mark grumbled. "They seemed really interested in Becky." "To be expected, she is quite lovely. I dare say I've only known one woman in this entire era to match her beauty." "Well, I think I heard them say 'capital', and then I think 'la reigne', which means queen, right?" "Indeed it does," Chester agreed. "My bet, then, is that your teacher has been taken by the Cardinal to be presented as a gift to her majesty, Queen Anne, to serve as one of her ladies-in-waiting." "Why would he do that?" Mark asked, frowning. "I've seen enough Three Musketeers movies to know that the Cardinal and the Queen hate each other." Chester smiled. "It's a game he plays with her. As the years go on, Anne is, sadly, getting 'a little long in the tooth', to borrow a phrase. She remains dignified and regal, but her best days are behind here, where attractiveness is concerned. Richelieu now takes great delight in surrounding her with women of magnificent beauty, seemingly a gesture of devotion, but really meant to hurt the queen's feelings." "What a dick." Mark muttered. "You have no idea," Chester said dryly. "If they got her back to the city roughly a week after she was taken, then she's been with the royal court for three." "Meaning that she's either loving life as a lady-in-waiting, or she's killed and eaten them all," Mark said heavily. "I guess I have to go get her." "I can't imagine this not being amusing," Chester said, smirking. "But out of morbid curiosity, how, exactly, will you affect this rescue?' "I dunno," Mark said, shrugging. "But I can't leave her. She'd kill me." "She probably thinks you're dead, I feel obliged to point out." Chester mentioned. "She saw you suffer a mortal wound at point-blank range. You should be dead and only an as-yet undetermined temporal snarl has kept you alive. I wouldn't count on that again if I were you." "Well I can't do nothing!" Mark insisted in frustration. Chester tilted his head, observing his guest for a moment. "Do you love this woman?" Mark blushed furiously. "I; no, I don't love her, or if I do, then I'm not in love with her. There's a difference, ya' know." "Well and truly said, Boccaccio," Chester chuckled. "Well, if there's no stopping you, then I'll see what I can do to discretely help you." "Why?" Mark queried. "I've got a friggin' time machine. All I need to do is get there, zip in and zip out." "Correct me if I am wrong," interjected his host. "But did you not tell me, early on in our association, that your current self is from three months in the future of the Miss Rebecca that I know." Mark nodded. "And you plan to add another layer of temporal travel on top of that wedding cake of disaster?" Chester mused. "Rebecca could be subtly altering the timelines in Paris now with her very presence, involuntary as it might be. Your oh-so-carefully laid plan could simply not work because of a slight temporal consideration." "So you're saying no time machine." Mark stated flatly, not impressed. "I'm saying the idea is bad. Atari Jaguar bad," Chester replied. "If you intend to do this hare-brained thing, allow me to assist you in what moderate ways I can." "What, you've got some funky tech or weapons you can loan me?" "We'll see about that, but more importantly, I guess I'll call in a favor. A certain person who moves in the circle of the royal court owes me a small boon, and I can use it to assist you. They happen to be an accomplished master of intrigue and getting out of sticky situations, with a blade if necessary." Mark's eyes lit up. "Is it D'Artagnan?" "Only if you want to get Clock-Hammered out of existence," Chester laughed, shaking his head. "Everybody wants to meet Charles de Batz, thinking they're going to see D'Artagnan of Three Musketeers fame, and then it just turns out he's a bad-tempered Gascon who loves to punch people who bother him. He's punched more time-travelers than Jesus, I'm pretty sure." Chester then went over to a drawer and rummaged around inside it, finally pulling out a yellowing envelope that was sealed with wax. "I assure you, the agent I am referring you to will be much more effective than D'Artagnan. I will send you with instructions about where in Paris to meet them and offer them this envelope. Warning, though, if they see it is opened, they will simply refuse to help and go away to where you cannot find them. Are you strong enough to keep from opening the letter?" Mark nodded. "Well, then," Chester announced, opening a bottle of wine and pouring two cups. "Shall we drink a toast to your success, o Macro del Strade of Seville?" Palace Mission. Mark was sitting on the back of a hay wagon, wondering if he could really pull this insane plan off. In addition to the letter, Chester Edgeworth had indeed furnished him with a few small devices and curious that they hopefully would help him, though it cost him almost all the rest of his money. Chester pointed out he was a businessman and didn't intend to take a loss just because some idiot created a time crisis for himself. Fair enough. Mark tried not to play with the little bud that sat deep in his ear; Chester had sold it to him, saying that it could translate languages, speaking into Mark's ear whatever he was focusing on. It could also possibly formulate phrases; if he spoke in English, it could tell him the closest translation to what he was saying. This model was old, though, and only spoke the French of this period. Chester didn't want him getting any clever ideas with a more powered-up version, since if something bad happened, it might come back on him. The reasoning initially annoyed Mark, but the more he thought about it, he reminded himself that he was here to rescue Becky. Nothing else. He thought about the conversation he'd had with their host while drinking wine and planning his initial move, heading to Paris. "So why did you begin time-travelling at all?" the man had asked. "Well, I;” Mark started saying, unsure of how to answer. "I found a time machine. Seems perfectly logical to use it." "Granted, but what's your personal motivation, Mark?" he asked. "Is it to see glorious historical events, are you a treasure hunter, a thrill-seeker who wants to run with the Dromaesaurs?" Mark blushed now. "Honest? I thought it'd be cool to have sex with women from history." To his amazement, Chester didn't laugh uproariously, he simply smiled and shrugged. "More common than you would think, especially amongst men your age, who are full of hormones. Let me ask, then; was getting laid in your own time-period difficult?" "Not really, no." "Well it's not any easier in the time stream, just so you know," Chester pointed out. "In some periods of history, it can be even harder, where religious fervor runs rampant and sexual repression is the law of the land. I assume you wouldn't go as far as to rape a girl." Mark shook his head. "Lots of men do when they find out that having sex in the past is harder than they anticipated," Chester said almost sadly, shaking his head. "You're one of the better ones. But for all that, the problem remains; getting into bed or a rug with Cleopatra is pretty much next to impossible. You might as well hope to seduce Scarlett Johansson when you're no one in particular." "Hey, I got Becky, didn't I?" Mark had protested. "Dumb luck, really, and she's a remarkable woman. Have you had sex with any women aside from Becky since you came to the Sun King's France?" He shrugged. "A few, I shared 'em with Becky." "Peasants, I assume?" "Mostly, yeah," Mark admitted. "There was one sophisto girl, but Becky did the talking and charmed the knickers off her for us." "If it weren't for Becky, you'd be completely out of your league here, boyo," Chester said simply. "And trust me, it won't get easier. Even history buffs who think they know everything get caught and pay the price. There's the history you know, the history you don't know, and the history that you don't know that you don't know." "What?" "What year did World War Two end?" Chester asked. "Simple. 1945." "So you know that. What year did the Crimean War start?" "I've heard of it, but I don't know anything about it." "Something you know that you don't know. Okay, tell me about the League of Ages Twelfth Nicean Temporal Council." "The what?" "Exactly," Chester had said emphatically, leaning forward and pointing with his wine glass to make a point. "An incredibly important historic event that you've never even heard of, but it happened all the same. Can you imagine trying to do something that conflicted with that? You wouldn't even know what clock-hammered you, or why; because only a practiced temporal traveler would be aware of the event at all. Time travel can be tedious." "It's certainly becoming less and less fun by the moment." Mark grumbled. "Probably the smartest thing you've said since you found that Holmes-Field Device," Chester agreed. "Life would be a lot easier if casual nitwits like yourself walked the other way when a time machine appeared in their path." "But don't you make a living selling to people like me?" Mark asked. "Hardly," Chester almost snorted. "Nitwits like you rarely have anything to even pay me with and usually require drastic amounts of assistance. No, my friend, the majority of my income is derived from customers who hail from the far future where time travel is an established industry and carefully regulated. Now those people are my bread and butter." "Did Becky and I really stand out?" Mark asked somewhat dully. "More and more with each passing moment," Chester answered. "You're too tall, too healthy, you have all your teeth, and your accents are absurd." Mark said nothing. "And by the way," added his host. "Those little packets of Airborne that you both carry in your pockets? The little Vitamin C boost things to ward off the sniffles? I can guarantee you that those will in no way, shape or form protect you from illnesses in this era. Only thing it'll do is turn your piss such a bright yellow that people will think you're possessed and the Inquisition will burn you." Mark ended up leaving the packets as a curio that Chester could sell to people from the future who wanted to snicker at how dumb people from the turn-of-the-millennium were. Carting to Paris. He had arranged transport to Paris with the wagon he was now on, making sure the farmer put some extra perk in his horse's step by offering him twice as many sou as was normal. The journey, which would normally take a week, with good weather, was promised to six days because of the extra money. Whatever the difference was between six-day speed and seven-day speed, Mark sure couldn't tell it. His communication with the farmer had been sluggish, certainly, mostly on his end, because he would try to say exactly what his little translator bud told him and he probably sounded like he'd had a stroke when he was speaking. The farmer laughed at his speech, but still did as he was asked. Mostly they slept at the side of the road in the piled hay, but one night they stayed in a roadside inn. Mark's funds were running out fast, even though the food he ate was paltry and rather unappetizing. He had to reach Paris. They then trundled through the town where Mark and Becky had first come to; and Mark hid himself in the straw, figuring it was best to not be seen by people whom he might be familiar with. Even if the innkeeper's two daughters would no doubt readily fuck him again. He fought the temptation to ignore Chester's instructions and simply go get his Holmes-Field Device and use it to rescue his teacher. But he disciplined himself and refrained, he was in enough trouble as it is.  Then he meditated; Known knowns. Known unknowns. Unknown unknowns. Fuck. The days and nights passed with Mark trying to keep himself from growing crazy by practicing his French and thinking of his plan. He had no idea whatsoever about what to do once he reached Paris. Get inside the royal palace? He couldn't exactly Google the plans for it, could he? "Regardez la!" the farmer said finally, calling back to Mark and pointing toward the west. As the sun was rising behind them, he could make out a sprawling sea of darkness in the distance, the silhouette of which prickled the sky. Endless plumes of smoke hung over the city as deep grey gave way to dawn behind them. He thought it might actually be pretty. And then the wind wafted over them from the west, bringing the unique scent of fabled Paris. "Jesus!" Mark croaked as he turned green, leaning over the side of the wagon and puking his guts out while the farmer roared with laughter. They entered the city. Mark wandered through the choking maze of streets, gaping at the chaos of architecture around him; houses seemed to almost be built on top of houses, to the place where some of them were leaning over almost drunkenly. The cobblestones of the road were wet and sticky with effluence, there was no way to avoid it. The stench was beyond belief. How had people ever lived like this? He had asked on repeated occasions where he could find La Rue de Grenuie, the place Chester had told him he would find the agent he'd referred to. Mark was reasonably certain most people were being helpful, even if they stared at him like he was an alien. He might as well have been, he was a head taller than just about everyone, clearly well-fed and had all his teeth. Mark had seen jack-o-lanterns with more teeth than most of the denizens of Paris' infamous streets. He took many wrong turns, because where he thought people had told him to go was often a dead end. Eventually, by divine providence, he found himself on the street he'd been asking for, evidenced by an ancient, worn rectangle of wood that said the name in faded green letters. Certain he was on the right track, he headed down the crowded street, stuffing his purse into the front of his breeches, since Chester had told him Paris was home to countless scoundrels who could remove his wealth without him even noticing. The crowds began to thin out somewhat, and the street got narrower, as if that was possible. The cobblestones were also surprisingly dry, not sticky or running with the sewage of the city behind him. Before long, it was barely wide enough to accommodate one person and he felt very uneasy about the rickety buildings that loomed over his head, almost blocking the sky. He then stopped in front of a black iron fence, pitted with age and with a chain wrapped around it. He tilted his head and unwrapped the chain, finding that the gate now swung open freely and with decidedly little noise. He stepped in, closed it behind himself and then fixed the chain back in place as best he could. He found himself walking through a tunnel, the buildings about him now made of stone. Dank and foreboding, he resisted the urge to run, not knowing what lay ahead. Eventually, he came to a small, bare courtyard. It might have been thirty feet by thirty feet and was devoid of almost all decoration. High brick and stone walls concealed it from the chaos of Paris. It was surprisingly quiet, as if the city dared not disturb the austere serenity. There was a single, grey stone bench in the middle of the courtyard. Facing away from him, clad in a great cloak, was a person, the hood thrown over their head to keep the merciless sun off them. Mark swallowed and took a deep breath before beginning to move forward. Was this Chester's agent? If he was, Mark had to be careful, because he'd been told the man was dangerous. He approached slowly, finally coming to a stop some five paces away, still facing the stranger's back. "Hello," he said faltering French. "My name is Mark. I have; sent; to you; today; for big help. I is need big help." "That you do, my friend," replied the person in a strangely lyrical voice. Then closed a small book of devotionals wwhich had clearly been studied and stood, still facing away. "That much is obvious, because your French is painful." Mark blushed in embarrassment as the translator bud told him what the person had said. Still concealed beneath their voluminous midnight-blue cloak, the mysterious person turned around and approached him. He resisted the urge to take a step back as the shrouded presence stood right in front of him. He couldn't help but notice the person was on the taller side, strange for a Parisian. Gloved hands pulled down the hood and Mark's eyes widened in amazement. Shining golden hair spilled in luxurious tresses down the person's back. The eyes were a dazzling blue, glinting with intelligence. The smile was serene, the teeth within white and perfect. Lady Alexandra. <

***This show is brought to you by Quince. Go to ⁠http://quince.com/playonpod ⁠for free shipping on your order and 365-day returns.*** King Richard gets an onslaught of bad news as he prepares for battle in York's House Garage. The only glimmer of hope is the news that Buckingham's army was dispersed by floods and he was taken prisoner. Richard tells Stanley to muster men but to leave behind his son, George, so he can be sure of Stanley's loyalty. Stanley secretly sends word to Richmond that he will come to his aid once he secures his son's safety. Richmond rallies her army outside a “A Bus Named Larry” as Richard spends the night in an empty warehouse. Both leaders sleep and dream in their separate camps. Richard is haunted by the ghosts of the people he murdered, Richmond is blessed by those same ghosts. The moment of truth arrives when Richard meets Richmond in battle the next day. The PLAY ON PODCAST SERIES, “RICHARD THE THIRD”, was written by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE and translated into modern English verse by MIGDALIA CRUZ. All episodes were directed by LISA ROTHE. Radio play by CATHERINE EATON.   This podcast was recorded under a SAG-AFTRA AGREEMENT.   The cast is as follows:   MATT FRASER                  as    RICHARD THE THIRD MIA KATIGBAK                 as    QUEEN MARGARET, CITIZEN and BLUNT HIRAM DELGADO             as    CLARENCE, DORSET, ELY and MESSENGER NANCY RODRIGUEZ        as    LADY ANNE, OXFORD, RIVERS and A MURDERER RACHEL CROWL              as    QUEEN ELIZABETH, NORFOLK, and MESSENGER SANJIT DE SILVA             as    NESS AQUINO, BUCKINGHAM, and A CITIZEN CHARLES DUMAS            as    EDWARD, HENRY the SIXTH, STANLEY & CARDINAL ANDY LUCIEN       as    HASTINGS, SCRIVENER, a MESSENGER and A MURDERER GABRIELA SAKER           as    CATESBY, DUKE OF YORK and A MESSENGER DANAYA ESPERANZA as BRAKENBURY, RATCLIFFE, LORD MAYOR, TYRREL, and  RICHMOND ALMA CUERVO              as    DUCHESS OF YORK, SHERIFF & A MESSENGER ELIJAH GOODFRIEND  as    PRINCE EDWARD, A PAGE, and A BOY   Casting by THE TELSEY OFFICE: KARYN CASL, CSA.   Voice and Text Coach: JULIE FOH   Original music composition, Mix and Sound Design by LINDSAY JONES. Composer, Producer, Guitars, Bass, Lead Vocals, Recording and Mix Engineer, DAVID MOLINA. EDWIN AYALA on Drums. Backup Vocals by MANUEL TRUJILLO. Sound engineering and mixing by SADAHARU YAGI. Mix Engineer and Dialogue Editor: LARRY WALSH. Podcast Mastering by GREG CORTEZ at New Monkey Studio. Coordinating Producer: TRANSCEND STREAMING (KYRA BOWIE and LEANNA KEYES). Executive Producer: MICHAEL GOODFRIEND.   The Play On Podcast Series “RICHARD THE THIRD” is produced by NEXT CHAPTER PODCASTS and is made possible by the generous support of THE HITZ FOUNDATION. Visit NEXTCHAPTERPODCASTS.COM for more about the Play On Podcast Series. Visit PLAYONSHAKESPEARE.ORG for more about Play On Shakespeare.Subscribe to Play On Premium for ad-free episodes and join our Patreon for exclusive merchandise and early commercial-free releases. Go to nextchapterpodcasts.com for our Bonus Content, where you'll find interviews with the artists, producers and engineers who brought it all to life. And remember: “We are not safe”. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Passage: Matthew 26:1-13. Series: King & Kingdom. Preacher: James Pope

On October 30th, 2025, Buckingham palace announced that King Charles III had begun a formal process to remove his brother Andrew's style, titles, and honours. Find out what that means and learn about other royals from history who lost their titles. Join me every Tuesday when I'm Spilling the Tea on History! Check out my Youtube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/c/lindsayholiday Follow me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100091781568503 Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/historyteatimelindsayholiday/ Tik Tok: https://www.tiktok.com/@historyteatime Please consider supporting me at https://www.patreon.com/LindsayHoliday and help me make more fascinating episodes! Intro Music: Baroque Coffee House by Doug Maxwell Music: Allegro by Emmit Fenn #HistoryTeaTime #LindsayHoliday Please contact ⁠⁠advertising@airwavemedia.com⁠⁠ if you would like to advertise on this podcast. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

***This show is brought to you by Quince. Go to http://quince.com/playonpod for free shipping on your order and 365-day returns.*** Richard hires the murderer Tyrell to finish off the Princes in the Tower. Richmond demands his Earldom but flees when Richard brushes him off. Ratcliffe brings news that the Bishop of Ely has joined Richmond. When Elizabeth and the Duchess confront him, Richard uses the opportunity to convince Elizabeth to give him her daughter in marriage in order to preserve her line. He celebrates his triumph until Stanley informs him that Richmond is on his way to England, sending him into a rage. The PLAY ON PODCAST SERIES, “RICHARD THE THIRD”, was written by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE and translated into modern English verse by MIGDALIA CRUZ. All episodes were directed by LISA ROTHE. Radio play by CATHERINE EATON.   This podcast was recorded under a SAG-AFTRA AGREEMENT.   The cast is as follows:   MATT FRASER                  as    RICHARD THE THIRD MIA KATIGBAK                 as    QUEEN MARGARET, CITIZEN and BLUNT HIRAM DELGADO             as    CLARENCE, DORSET, ELY and MESSENGER NANCY RODRIGUEZ        as    LADY ANNE, OXFORD, RIVERS and A MURDERER RACHEL CROWL              as    QUEEN ELIZABETH, NORFOLK, and MESSENGER SANJIT DE SILVA             as    NESS AQUINO, BUCKINGHAM, and A CITIZEN CHARLES DUMAS            as    EDWARD, HENRY the SIXTH, STANLEY & CARDINAL ANDY LUCIEN       as    HASTINGS, SCRIVENER, a MESSENGER and A MURDERER GABRIELA SAKER           as    CATESBY, DUKE OF YORK and A MESSENGER DANAYA ESPERANZA as BRAKENBURY, RATCLIFFE, LORD MAYOR, TYRREL, and  RICHMOND ALMA CUERVO              as    DUCHESS OF YORK, SHERIFF & A MESSENGER ELIJAH GOODFRIEND  as    PRINCE EDWARD, A PAGE, and A BOY   Casting by THE TELSEY OFFICE: KARYN CASL, CSA.   Voice and Text Coach: JULIE FOH   Original music composition, Mix and Sound Design by LINDSAY JONES. Composer, Producer, Guitars, Bass, Lead Vocals, Recording and Mix Engineer, DAVID MOLINA. EDWIN AYALA on Drums. Backup Vocals by MANUEL TRUJILLO. Sound engineering and mixing by SADAHARU YAGI. Mix Engineer and Dialogue Editor: LARRY WALSH. Podcast Mastering by GREG CORTEZ at New Monkey Studio. Coordinating Producer: TRANSCEND STREAMING (KYRA BOWIE and LEANNA KEYES). Executive Producer: MICHAEL GOODFRIEND.   The Play On Podcast Series “RICHARD THE THIRD” is produced by NEXT CHAPTER PODCASTS and is made possible by the generous support of THE HITZ FOUNDATION. Visit NEXTCHAPTERPODCASTS.COM for more about the Play On Podcast Series. Visit PLAYONSHAKESPEARE.ORG for more about Play On Shakespeare.   Subscribe to Play On Premium for ad-free episodes and join our Patreon for exclusive merchandise and early commercial-free releases. Go to nextchapterpodcasts.com for our Bonus Content, where you'll find interviews with the artists, producers and engineers who brought it all to life. And remember: “We are not safe” Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Puntata 586:  Francesca e Marco  sono ai microfoni interna.Apriamo con  Francesca che parla di un metodo innovativo per misurare  da semi-remoto l'acidità degli oceani e della rilevanza per il riscaldamento globale.In esternaKuna intervista Lorenza Polistena, etologa e comunicatrice scientifica, su miti e preconcetti sul comportamento animale, sull'effetto della domesticazione e sulle linee di ricerca più interessanti dell'etologia contemporanea. Qui trovate il podcast di Lorenza e qui il suo profilo Instagram.Marco parla della misurazione di raggi gamma da parte del datellite Fermi. I raggi gamma dal centro della galassia e potrebbero essere dovuti a materia oscura o pulsars.Per approfondire:Oceani:Uzhansky, E. M., Barclay, D. R., & Buckingham, M. J. (2025). On the measurement of ocean acidity with ambient sound. Journal of Geophysical Research: Oceans, 130(10), e2025JC022575.Dark matterhttps://journals.aps.org/prl/abstract/10.1103/g9qz-h8wd  IAN:https://www.researchgate.net/publication/324220542_Bitola__from_Eyalet_capital_to_regional_centre_in_the_Republic_of_Macedonia Bitola raggiunse una grande importanza economica e geopolitica nel XVI secolo come importante centro dell'Impero Ottomano, ma le guerre e i cambiamenti politici del XX secolo la ridussero a una città di rilevanza locale.Lo studio utilizza dati numerici e cartografici per analizzare questa trasformazione negli ultimi due secoli, confrontando lo sviluppo di Bitola con altre principali città balcaniche.Diventa un supporter di questo podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/scientificast-la-scienza-come-non-l-hai-mai-sentita--1762253/support.

Margrét sá um Poppland í dag. Vintage Caravan eiga plötu vikunnar sem heitir Portals. Airwaves-band dagsins var hin írska Bricknasty. Laufey – Tough Luck Chaka Khan – Like Sugar Veronica Maggio – Måndagsbarn Turnstile – Seein' Stars Mono Town – Peacemaker Salka Sól Eyfeld – Úr gulli gerð Richard Ashcroft – Lovin' You Dolly Parton & Sabrina Carpenter – Please Please Please Johnny Nash – I Can See Clearly Now Haraldur Ari Stefánsson & GDRN – Viltu bíða mín? LF System – Afraid To Feel Cat Burns – There's Just Something About Her The Vintage Caravan – Portal I The Vintage Caravan ft. Mikael Åkerfeldt – Philosopher RAYE – Where Is My Husband! Sycamore Tree – Forest Rain Kári Egilsson – Midnight Sky Tom Tom Club – Genius of Love Friðrik Dór & Ólafur Arnalds – Leiðarlok Herbert Guðmundsson – Með stjörnunum Albatross – Ég ætla að skemmta mér sombr – 12 to 12 The Rolling Stones – Start Me Up Björg Pé – Tímabært Jeff Tweedy – Enough Moses Hightower – Allt í góðu lagi Bricknasty – Boyfriend Olivia Dean – Man I Need Big Thief – Los Angeles The Mavericks – Dance the Night Away Joy Crookes – Somebody to You 10cc – Dreadlock Holiday Lindsey Buckingham, Mick Fleetwood & Miley Cyrus – Secrets Taylor Swift – The Fate of Ophelia Benni Hemm Hemm, Páll Óskar Hjálmtýsson & Urður Hákonardóttir – Valentínus Máni Orrason – Pushing The Bamboos – Ex-Files GKR – Stælar St. Paul & The Broken Bones – Sushi and Coca-Cola Depeche Mode – Personal Jesus Matthias Moon – Vor Corinne Bailey Rae – Put Your Records On Jordana & Almost Monday – Jupiter ABBA – Does Your Mother Know Richard Ashcroft – Break the Night with Colour Todmobile – Pöddulagið Benny Blanco & Selena Gomez – Talk. Tónlist frá útsendingarlogg 2025-11-04 Laufey - Tough Luck. CHAKA KHAN - Like Sugar. Maggio, Veronica - Måndagsbarn. Turnstile - SEEIN' STARS. MONO TOWN - Peacemaker. Salka Sól Eyfeld - Úr gulli gerð. Ashcroft, Richard - Lovin' You. Parton, Dolly, Carpenter, Sabrina - Please Please Please. JOHNNY NASH - I Can See Clearly Now. Ashcroft, Richard - Lovin' You. Haraldur Ari Stefánsson, GDRN - Viltu bíða mín?. LF SYSTEM - Afraid To Feel. Cat Burns - There's Just Something About Her. Vintage Caravan, The - Portal I. Vintage Caravan, The - Philosopher (ft.Mikael Åkerfeldt). RAYE söngkona - WHERE IS MY HUSBAND!. Sycamore tree - Forest Rain. KÁRI EGILSSON - Midnight Sky. TOM TOM CLUB - Genius of Love. FRIÐRIK DÓR & ÓLAFUR ARNALDS - Leiðarlok. HERBERT GUÐMUNDSSON - Með stjörnunum. ALBATROSS - Ég ætla að skemmta mér. sombr - 12 to 12. ROLLING STONES - Start Me Up. BJÖRG PÉ - Timabært. Tweedy, Jeff - Enough. Moses Hightower - Alltígóðulagi. Bricknasty - Boyfriend. Dean, Olivia - Man I Need. Big Thief - Los Angeles. THE MAVERICKS - Dance The Night Away. Crookes, Joy - Somebody To You. 10 CC - Dreadlock Holiday. Buckingham, Lindsey, Fleetwood, Mick, Cyrus, Miley - Secrets. Swift, Taylor - The Fate of Ophelia. Benni Hemm Hemm, Páll Óskar Hjálmtýsson, Urður Hákonardóttir - Valentínus. Máni Orrason - Pushing. THE BAMBOOS - Ex-Files. GKR - Stælar. St. Paul & The broken bones - Sushi and Coca-Cola. DEPECHE MODE - Personal Jesus. Matthias Moon - Vor. CORINNE BAILEY RAE - Put Your Records On. Jordana, Almost Monday - Jupiter. ABBA - Does your mother know. RICHARD ASHCROFT - Break The Night With Color. TODMOBILE - Pöddulagið. Blanco, Benny, Gomez, Selena - Talk.

Passage: Matthew 25:31-46. Series: King & Kingdom. Preacher: Callum White

This week, a nod to Halloween, we have a real CREEPSHOW. Alex Andreou and Kenny Campbell look at how Buck House, the media and the Metropolitan Police have dealt – or failed to deal – with the fallout from Virginia Giuffre's long and ultimately tragic campaign for justice. Where does the PR end and the restructuring of the Royal Family begin? And, if the Met won't act on behalf of a woman who was allegedly sexually assaulted multiple times by a now former prince, will it at least act to protect itself? While Buck House has wrestled with the Andrew scandal, it's also been a suitably frightful Halloween week for those connected with Rachel Reeves' Dulwich house. We try to disentangle the actual story from the ongoing hit jobs on Reeves and other senior Labour women. And for some good news, we turn to the Dutch election, where a double-digit lead for Gert Wilder's far right party, turned into a defeat in the last month of the campaign. And we look at some actual horror – classic and modern horror flicks that have, literally, kept us awake. Insert your own scream here. ***SPONSOR US AT ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠KO-FI.COM/QUIETRIOTPOD⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠*** “It's striking that we were discussing grooming gangs in midweek and Epstein's trafficking now. We are essentially talking about the same crime, but in very different surroundings.” “The Palace has been dealing with these allegations for the thicker part of a decade now. And the Met Police finds itself in the extraordinary position of lagging behind even Buckingham on taking action.” “There is a concerted effort to make this into a positive story about the monarchy ejecting this one bad apple. As a foreigner and a republican, I find it bizarre that there is no discussion on whether we should also look at how inherited privilege passes to undeserving people and is used by them. Not a peep.” “There is a higher level of scrutiny on women in politics than there is on men and a higher level of scrutiny on progressives than on conservatives. When those two streams meet, it's hard not to note the gusto with which Labour women ministers are pursued.” “There's a sense that Labour - and Labour women in particular - have got no right to be in government and the old boys' network has got to work in tandem with everybody else who wears the right tie to shorten the road.” “In the meantime, Dick Schoof remains Prime Minister [of the Netherlands]. He says Santa Claus is likely to arrive before the next coalition agreement. I think it's as likely that the Easter Bunny may arrive before it.” • Buy something from ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠our bookshop here⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. • Email us at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠quietriotpod@gmail.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. • Or visit our website ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠www.quietriotpod.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. With Naomi Smith, Alex Andreou and Kenny Campbell. ***SPONSOR US AT ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠KO-FI.COM/QUIETRIOTPOD⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠*** Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

El Palacio de Buckingham retira títulos al Príncipe Andrés y lo traslada. Jamaica padece cortes de luz por el huracán Melissa. La jueza cita a declarar a la cúpula de TV3 por sobresueldos. La instrucción del caso Esther López concluye y la Fiscalía pide 18 años para el investigado. El Rey Juan Carlos I vuelve a España, publica sus memorias y aborda su relación con la Reina Sofía, la Princesa Leonor, la Reina Letizia, el Rey Felipe VI, Corinna y el 23F. Reconoce el error de los 100 millones de Arabia Saudí y elogia a Franco. Expertos de COPE analizan su figura. La inflación persiste con el IPC en el 3,1%, y el BCE mantiene los tipos. El paro en la Eurozona aumenta, y España lidera el desempleo. Funcionarios amenazan con huelga general por la subida salarial. BBVA registra beneficios históricos. Repsol ve sus ganancias afectadas por el precio del petróleo. Iberdrola, Endesa y Naturgy solicitan prorrogar la central nuclear de Almaraz hasta 2030. Un estudio revela la viabilidad de un ...

A surprising shift is taking place in the gender and sexual identities of young people. Since 2023 both trans and queer identification have dropped sharply within Generation Z. A medical miracle, or proof that the trans movement was a social contagion all along?To discuss this shift, along with the broader movements in the culture wars, Will is joined by Professor of Politics at the University of Buckingham, and the Director for The Centre for Heterodox Social Science, Eric Kaufmann.Follow Will Kingston and Fire at Will on social media here.Read The Spectator Australia here.

Hoàng gia Anh hiện được cho là một trong những hoàng gia giàu có nhất châu Âu và sẽ còn có sức sống lâu dài vì sau khi vua Charles lên nối ngôi Nữ hoàng Elizabeth II vào năm 2022, thì có con ngài là Thái tử William còn trẻ. Và William hiện có ba con, hai hoàng tử bé và một công chúa. Như thế, việc nối ngôi cho triều đại của dòng họ Mountbatten-Windsor được đảm bảo. Nhưng thực sự chúng ta có biết nhiều về Hoàng gia Anh ? Thông tín viên Nguyễn Giang, người đã sống ở Anh nhiều năm và theo dõi chủ đề này, cho RFI biết về lịch sử Hoàng Gia Anh, những gì họ sở hữu, điều đặc biệt trong cách chi tiêu và nguyên tắc kế vị : RFI : Ngược về quá khứ lịch sử, Hoàng gia Anh có gốc gác từ đâu ?  TTV Nguyễn Giang : Vâng, xin giải thích dài dòng là chế độ phong kiến tập quyền của Anh đến từ đâu. Đến từ Pháp vào nửa sau thế kỷ 11 và tồn tại đến bây giờ, Hoàng gia, như một định chế chính trị và văn hóa, tồn tại ở Anh liên tục từ thế kỷ 11, không đứt quãng, còn gia tộc nào nắm quyền thì mỗi thời một khác. Chúng ta biết trong lịch sử có các triều đại làm vua chúa ở Anh như Plantagenet (gốc Anjou, Pháp), có nhà Tudor (tức Theodore, xứ Wales), có nhà Stuart (Scotland), và dòng Hanover từ Đức mà người đại diện cuối cùng là Nữ hoàng Victoria. Gia tộc nắm ngai vàng hiện nay có họ gốc Đức là Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, đến năm 1917 thời vua George V thì đổi sang họ Windsor, lấy tên lâu đài Hoàng gia ở gần Luân Đôn. Còn về dòng máu của các thành viên Hoàng gia Anh cũng như châu Âu thì họ thường có hôn nhân pha trộn rất phức tạp. Cụ thể vua Charles hiện nay có ông bà là người Anh, người Đan Mạch, Đức, Hy Lạp và cả Scotland nữa. Còn nói về thể chế và các quy tắc họ tuân theo để bảo tồn một nhà nước có vua thì tất cả bắt đầu từ năm 1066. Năm đó, công tước Guillaume hay William từ xứ Normandy ở vùng bờ biển miền tây bắc nước Pháp đem quân sang đánh vua Harold, người gốc Đan Mạch, ở trận Hastings bên bờ biển và tiến quân về Luân Đôn, giành được ngai vàng Anh.  Từ đó, Anh chính thức có chế độ phong kiến tập quyền theo mô hình Pháp và các đời vua Anh (Kings of England), trên thực tế trong 300 năm tiếp theo vẫn dùng tiếng Pháp ở triều đình, tiếng Anh Trung đại (Middle English) chỉ dùng trong dân. Hoàng gia Anh thực chất là sinh hoạt theo kiểu Pháp và giới quý tộc Anglo-Saxon cũ, thường rất đơn giản, chỉ có ba cấp vua, các thân vương và tộc trưởng (chieftain, gọi là earl- sau đổi thành count-bá tước), cũng cải tổ theo hệ thống kiểu Pháp, đủ 5 tước vị : công - hầu - bá - tử - nam tước theo truyền thống hiệp sỹ (chivalry) của châu Âu. RFI : Trong thời hiện đại, khác với các nước châu Âu đã chuyển sang nền cộng hòa, Anh vẫn còn vua chúa và quý tộc. Vậy thực sự họ làm gì và có vai trò gì trong xã hội ?  TTV Nguyễn Giang : Nhiều nghi lễ ngày nay dòng họ Windsor vẫn giữ nguyên như thế từ thế kỷ 11 và Hoàng gia đứng đầu 600 dòng họ quý tộc gốc, hình thành sau cuộc xâm lăng của William, người chinh phục và được phong tước trong mấy thế kỷ sau đó. Đây là các tước quý tộc thực thụ của giới chúa đất vẫn còn quyền lợi (landed gentry), và được quyền trao lại cho con cháu họ (hereditary titles). Họ khác hẳn với những người bình thường, được tặng các tước sir, lord (baronnes), hiệp sĩ, quý ông quý bà trong danh sách của Hoàng gia công bố mỗi dịp năm mới (New Year's Honours List). Danh sách này có hàng trăm người thuộc giới doanh nhân, văn nghệ sĩ, nhà hoạt động xã hội và sĩ quan quân đội. Sau nhiều năm phong tặng, con số người có các tước “quý tộc ban thưởng” này hiện ở Anh có trên 30 nghìn, mới đây gồm cả cựu cầu thủ bóng đá David Beckham. Thế nhưng các tước này có giá trị như huân huy chương, bằng khen, và không có quyền thế tập, truyền lại cho con cháu.  RFI : Hiện nay Đế quốc Anh không còn nữa thì vai trò chính trị của Hoàng gia là gì?  TTV Nguyễn Giang : Anh quốc là nền dân chủ có lâu đời trên thế giới nhưng theo thể chế quân chủ lập hiến (constitutional monarchy), và vẫn duy trì Vương triều: dòng họ Windsor. Nhà vua đóng vai trò Nguyên thủ Quốc gia (Head of State) để đại diện cho nước Anh trên thế giới, và phê chuẩn các đạo luật, bổ nhiệm thủ tướng. Ngài cũng là Tổng tư lệnh quân đội và theo truyền thống của Quân đội Anh, các sĩ quan cao nhất của các quân binh chủng đều được nhà vua phong tước quý tộc tượng trưng, còn bản thân vua Charles khi còn là Thái tử được mẹ của ngài, Nữ hoàng Elizabeth II lúc sinh thời, phong tước Nguyên soái (Field Marshall) vào năm 2012. Không quân và Hải quân Anh đều có chữ “Hoàng gia” (Royal) và trên lý thuyết là thuộc về nhà vua.  Thế nhưng, vua Charles III còn có vai trò nữa là “người dẫn dắt quốc gia” (Head of Nation) về mặt văn hóa, là người nắm quyền chủ thể (the Sovereign) duy trì tính truyền thống Anh, và lễ nghi, đem lại sự ổn định và tính kế thừa, đoàn kết quốc dân. Các hoạt động vì cộng đồng, từ thiện nếu làm tốt là được nhận huân huy chương từ Hoàng gia, chứ không phải từ quan chức chính phủ.  RFI : Hoàng gia Anh, cụ thể là vua Charles III và các thành viên Hoàng gia có sở hữu tài sản khắp cả nước hay không và họ quản lý tài sản ra sao?  TTV Nguyễn Giang : Ở đây cần phân biệt hai loại tài sản. Loại thứ nhất tư dinh, điền sản và tiền bạc của riêng Nhà vua và Hoàng gia, thuộc về cá nhân họ. Loại thứ hai là tài sản của vương triều (Crown Estate) và ai làm vua nước Anh thì được sử dụng suốt đời nhưng không phải là tài sản cá nhân nên không thể bán đi bỏ túi.  Xin nói cụ thể, tính đến tháng 5/2025 thì tài sản riêng của Nhà vua Charles III (personal fortune, not including the crown estate) là £640 triệu bảng Anh (trên 850 triệu USD), đưa ông trở thành triệu phú lớn nhưng chưa phải tỷ phú. Đó là trị giá hai khu dinh thự ở Balmoral (Scotland) và Sandringham (Norfolk) kèm đất đai xung quanh, cộng các khoản nhà vua đầu tư vào các quỹ khác nhau, lợi tức từ kinh doanh mà vua giao cho các công ty phụ trách.  Còn tài sản Hoàng triều, gồm các cung điện lớn nhất nước Anh và cũng là trụ sở và nơi ở của vua như Điện Buckingham ở thủ đô và Lâu đài Windsor ở phía Tây Nam Luân Đôn, cùng nhiều điền trang thái ấp như Duchy of Cornwall...ước tính có giá trị 16 tỷ bảng Anh, thực chất là thuộc về Vương quốc Anh, và ai làm vua thì quản trị chứ không phải của riêng của dòng họ Windsor hiện nay. Lâu đài Windsor chẳng hạn có từ thời vua William người Pháp (1066), nay là trụ sở ngoài Luân Đôn của Vua Charles nhưng cũng là dinh thự quốc gia, nơi đón các khách quốc tế, ví dụ như Tổng thống Emmanuel Macron của Pháp mới đây. Ngoài ra, Crown Estate sở hữu và quản trị các “công quốc” (duchies), tức là các khu trang trại sản xuất nông nghiệp, đem lại lợi tức lớn. Tiền đó được chuyển vào một ngân hàng do chính phủ Anh quản lý (Consolidate Fund) và chừng 25% đem ra chi lại cho Hoàng gia để đi lại, bảo dưỡng, trùng tu các cung điện...  Thế nhưng, các tài sản này như đã nói, thuộc về Vương triều, và vua Anh không thể đem cho thuê, bán cho bất cứ ai ở Anh hay ở nước ngoài. Các hoàng tử, công chúa cũng không được hưởng gì từ những tài sản này. Ví dụ còn nhỏ thì họ được ở cùng cha mẹ, tức là vua và hoàng hậu (thời trước là nữ hoàng và phu quân) trong các cung điện đó nhưng họ không có quyền thừa kế. Chỉ vị trưởng nam, hoặc trưởng nữ (như trường hợp công chúa cả Elizabeth kế vị vua cha George V), thì được hưởng tiếp tục quyền lợi ở trong các cung điện, dinh thự này. Những người khác, vẫn là hoàng tử, công chúa thì có thể phải rời đi.  RFI : Về chi tiêu của Hoàng gia thì nhà nước Anh, hay người đóng thuế Anh phải bỏ ra bao nhiêu một năm?  TTV Nguyễn Giang : Số tiền Nhà nước Anh, chi cho hoạt động của nhà vua và Hoàng gia hàng năm là khoảng 86-87 triệu bảng (tương đương 115 triệu USD). Như tôi nói ở trên, tổng tài sản của Hoàng triều (Crown Estate) trị giá 16 tỷ bảng, đem lại lợi tức hàng năm và nhà nước Anh thu tiền đó lại rồi lấy ra 25% chi lại cho Hoàng gia, gọi là Sovereign Grant.  Trong khoản tiền này thì chừng 50-51 triệu bảng chủ yếu để bảo vệ, duy trì, sửa sang các dinh thự, cộng với chi phí đi lại, ví dụ vua Charles đi thăm nước nào đó, ở cương vị Nguyên thủ Quốc gia thì đó là chi phí máy bay, khách sạn... Ví dụ từ năm ngoái tới nay, Hoàng gia có thuê 55 chuyến bay riêng với gần 600.000 bảng Anh, và các chuyến bay theo lịch trình mất 126.000 bảng Anh. Tổng chi phí đi lại của hoàng gia là 4,7 triệu bảng Anh, tăng 500.000 bảng so với năm trước. Trong năm qua, khoản chi lớn nhất là 400.000 bảng cho chuyến đi của Nhà vua và Hoàng hậu tới Úc và Samoa. Nếu chia ra thì để duy trì các hoạt động của Hoàng gia, mỗi người dân Anh hàng năm đóng góp chừng 77 xu Anh.    RFI : Theo anh tìm hiểu thì nguyên tắc truyền ngôi và thừa kế tài sản, các cung điện, dinh thự lớn của Hoàng gia Anh ra sao?  TTV Nguyễn Giang : Phải nói rằng Hoàng gia Anh đứng trên cao nhất nhưng không đứng ngoài các nguyên tắc của quý tộc Anh : hạn chế quyền thừa kế, chỉ cho trưởng nam, hoặc trưởng nữ nếu vua không có con trai. Đây là nguyên tắc ‘primogeniture', nói rằng trừ một số biệt lệ với quý tộc Scotland cho con gái có quyền thừa kế, chỉ con trai trưởng được thừa kế gia sản đi kèm tước vị. Nếu nhà quý tộc có hai con trai trở lên, các con trai thứ sẽ không nhận được gì.  Với Hoàng gia Anh, khi Nữ hoàng Elizabeth còn sống thì Thái tử Charles là người duy nhất thừa kế ngai vàng cùng các điền sản, tiền bạc từ mẹ. Các hoàng tử thứ Andrew và Edward, cùng công chúa Anne bị loại ra ngoài khoản thừa kế. Nay thì vua Charles sẽ để lại hết cho Thái tử William, còn hoàng tử Harry thì ngoài các khoản tiền hay dinh thự tư nhân mẹ để lại, không được thừa kế cả quyền sống trong các lâu đài của Hoàng gia. Nay đã sang Mỹ sinh sống, vị Hoàng tử này đã trọ ở khách sạn trong lần gần nhất về Luân Đôn tham gia một vụ kiện chống lại báo chí Anh. Tất nhiên ta phải hiểu là Hoàng tử Harry như một công dân bình thường thì vẫn có quyền nhận thừa kế từ cha mẹ (Công nương Diana khi tử nạn năm 1997 ở Paris có để lại tài sản cho hai con trai, William và Harry), nhưng đó là tài sản cá nhân, còn các điền trang thái ấp thuộc Hoàng triều (Crown Estate) thì chỉ được trao cho trưởng nam, hoặc trưởng nữ nếu nhà vua không có con trai.  Nguyên tắc này còn phân biệt đối xử với phụ nữ. Với các công chúa Anh thì con của họ đều không còn tước quý tộc. Ví dụ hai con của Công chúa Anne, em gái Vua Charles, là Zara và Peter Philipps, thì mang họ cha, một sĩ quan quân đội không phải quý tộc. Xin mở ngoặc là điều này khiến Hoàng gia Anh khác hẳn với các dòng đế hệ của triều Nguyễn ở Việt Nam mà từ thời vua Minh Mạng đã để lại các tên riêng, đánh dấu địa vị quý phái của họ, gồm cả công tằng tôn nữ cho cháu chắt của vua chúa đến mấy đời sau. Bên này chỉ đến đời thứ hai, con của công chúa trưởng đã mất hết tước vị.  Chúng ta hiểu là thời xưa, nguyên tắc ưu tiên trưởng nam trong luật thừa kế của vua chúa có ý nghĩa lớn cho sự ổn định của triều đại. Họ hạn chế nạn phân phong đất đai, dẫn tới cạnh tranh kiểu sứ quân. Ngày nay, quy chế truyền ngôi chỉ cho trưởng nam đúng là bất công với anh em trong một nhà, nhưng lại giúp bảo toàn được uy quyền của Vương triều, không để xảy ra việc xé lẻ đất đai, cung điện và tài sản.  RFI : Cuối cùng, Hoàng gia làm gì để tồn tại và phù hợp với tình hình?  TTV Nguyễn Giang : Việc đầu tiên tôi thấy là tính minh bạch của tiền bạc Hoàng gia. Họ công bố hết mọi chi tiêu trên các trang mạng của Quốc hội, của Hoàng triều, ai cũng đọc được. Điều này nhằm mục tiêu chứng minh cho công chúng rằng Hoàng gia không phải là một bộ máy phong kiến « ăn trên ngồi trốc ». Họ đóng góp vào công quỹ và nhận được trợ cấp từ chính phủ để lo việc nước. Có thế họ mới tồn tại được trong một thể chế dân chủ. Vua cũng có trách nhiệm giải trình.  Thứ nhì, từ thời Nữ hoàng Elizabeth II thì số người thuộc Hoàng gia (Royal Family) đã bị giảm đi rất nhiều, để tránh tiếng là Hoàng gia đông quá. Ngày xưa, người trong Hoàng tộc, gồm hàng trăm người, và ai cũng giàu có, cao quý cả. Nhưng nay danh sách “thành viên Hoàng gia đang làm việc cho Quốc vương” (working royals) chỉ còn 11 đại diện cho vua để dự các lễ nhà nước, lo hoạt động đối ngoại, tiếp tân, từ thiện … Những người này được nhận tiền trợ cấp của vua khi làm việc chứ không ăn lương năm.  Còn về tài sản riêng, có những động tác cho thấy Hoàng gia cắt giảm chi tiêu. Ví dụ, năm nay vua Charles vừa ra lệnh dừng sử dụng đoàn tàu hỏa riêng từ năm 2027 để tiết kiệm. Đây là đoàn tàu Royal Train do Nữ hoàng Victoria đặt hàng hai toa riêng cho Hoàng gia vào năm 1869. Khi đó, xe lửa là phương tiện giao thông công cộng duy nhất nối các vùng của Anh, với tuyến đầu tiên xây xong năm 1825. Cho tới gần đây, Royal Train được sử dụng rộng rãi trong các sự kiện trong thời kỳ kỷ niệm vàng và kim cương của Nữ hoàng Elizabeth II ở nửa sau  thế kỷ 20 – và lần tân trang mới nhất cho các toa tàu diễn ra vào giữa thập niên 1980.  Thế nhưng càng về gần đây, Hoàng gia dùng xe hơi, máy bay, trực thăng để di chuyển, nên trong năm 2024-2025 đoàn tàu chỉ được sử dụng trong hai dịp nên họ quyết định từ năm 2027 sẽ dừng dịch vụ này, đem các toa tàu đi trưng bày.  Cuối cùng, như đã nói ở trên, nguyên tắc trưởng nam thế tập tước vị và điền sản, còn con trai thứ, con gái, dù là hoàng tử, công chúa đều bị loại hoàn toàn khỏi các chức vụ và đặc quyền đặc lợi, khiến cho công chúng cảm thấy là chỉ có một người được làm thái tử, làm vua, và đó là làm việc cho đất nước.  Tài sản của Hoàng triều là của nước Anh chứ không phải của riêng của vua, nữ hoàng, để rồi có bao nhiêu cung điện - di sản của quốc gia - lại đem chia nhau. Như đã nói ở trên, Hoàng tử Harry là không còn sống ở Anh, không làm việc đại diện cho Hoàng gia nữa thì không chỉ mất luôn tiền trợ cấp mà còn bị tước hết các chức vụ trong quân đội. Đây là thông điệp mạnh mẽ của vua Charles để chứng minh Hoàng gia đặt lên mức cao nhất công tác phụng sự quốc dân, chứ không bao giờ thiên vị con mình. 

TRANS ID SEEMS TO BE DROPPING And it's dropping most in young people, thank God. Professor Eric Kaufmann, who I caught up with this past weekend for an interview, says it is and brings the data to back it up. Read the first story in Unherd here, and then check out his Substack that refutes all the nerdy statistical criticisms here. Follow him on X here. And he's at the University of Buckingham, not Birmingham as I saw at the end of the interview.

***This show is brought to you by Quince. Go to http://quince.com/playonpod for free shipping on your order and 365-day returns.*** In the parking garage outside The Tower, Richard coaches Buckingham on how to act distraught. The Mayor arrives with Catesby and recoils in horror when Ratcliffe delivers Hastings' head. In order to keep her own, she promises to tell the citizens that Hastings was a traitor who deserved to die. Once she leaves, Richard tells Buckingham to spread the word that King Edward was father to countless illegitimate children, including the two Princes. Later, Richard is planted as a guest on the Maximum Rock-n-Roll Radio Show to pose as a devout Christian and give the impression that he does not want to be King unless the people demand it. Buckingham stages a call into the show to plead with Richard to take the throne, saying that if he doesn't, there will be rebellion. Richard pretends to be reluctant but eventually gives in. Later, outside The Tower parking garage, the Duchess, Elizabeth, Anne and Dorset assemble to visit the Princes, but Brackenbury refuses to let them in. Dorset flees to France to join forces with Richmond. Anne agrees to be crowned in order to save the Princes. Elizabeth goes to Sanctuary to save herself and the Duchess goes to her death. Later, King Richard sits on the throne at The Temple Beautiful with Buckingham at his side, celebrating their rise to power. The PLAY ON PODCAST SERIES, “RICHARD THE THIRD”, was written by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE and translated into modern English verse by MIGDALIA CRUZ. All episodes were directed by LISA ROTHE. Radio play by CATHERINE EATON.   This podcast was recorded under a SAG-AFTRA AGREEMENT.   The cast is as follows:   MATT FRASER                  as    RICHARD THE THIRD MIA KATIGBAK                 as    QUEEN MARGARET, CITIZEN and BLUNT HIRAM DELGADO             as    CLARENCE, DORSET, ELY and MESSENGER NANCY RODRIGUEZ        as    LADY ANNE, OXFORD, RIVERS and A MURDERER RACHEL CROWL              as    QUEEN ELIZABETH, NORFOLK, and MESSENGER SANJIT DE SILVA             as    NESS AQUINO, BUCKINGHAM, and A CITIZEN CHARLES DUMAS            as    EDWARD, HENRY the SIXTH, STANLEY & CARDINAL ANDY LUCIEN       as    HASTINGS, SCRIVENER, a MESSENGER and A MURDERER GABRIELA SAKER           as    CATESBY, DUKE OF YORK and A MESSENGER DANAYA ESPERANZA as BRAKENBURY, RATCLIFFE, LORD MAYOR, TYRREL, and  RICHMOND ALMA CUERVO              as    DUCHESS OF YORK, SHERIFF & A MESSENGER ELIJAH GOODFRIEND  as    PRINCE EDWARD, A PAGE, and A BOY   Casting by THE TELSEY OFFICE: KARYN CASL, CSA.   Voice and Text Coach: JULIE FOH   Original music composition, Mix and Sound Design by LINDSAY JONES. Composer, Producer, Guitars, Bass, Lead Vocals, Recording and Mix Engineer, DAVID MOLINA. EDWIN AYALA on Drums. Backup Vocals by MANUEL TRUJILLO. Sound engineering and mixing by SADAHARU YAGI. Mix Engineer and Dialogue Editor: LARRY WALSH. Podcast Mastering by GREG CORTEZ at New Monkey Studio. Coordinating Producer: TRANSCEND STREAMING (KYRA BOWIE and LEANNA KEYES). Executive Producer: MICHAEL GOODFRIEND.   The Play On Podcast Series “RICHARD THE THIRD” is produced by NEXT CHAPTER PODCASTS and is made possible by the generous support of THE HITZ FOUNDATION. Visit NEXTCHAPTERPODCASTS.COM for more about the Play On Podcast Series. Visit PLAYONSHAKESPEARE.ORG for more about Play On Shakespeare.   Subscribe to Play On Premium for ad-free episodes and join our Patreon for exclusive merchandise and early commercial-free releases. Go to nextchapterpodcasts.com for our Bonus Content, where you'll find interviews with the artists, producers and engineers who brought it all to life. And remember: “We are not safe”. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Today's program features tuneage from Talking Heads,  Led Zeppelin, Spirit, Radiohead, Iron Butterfly, Steppenwolf, Phil Collins, Jeff Buckley, Leon Russell, Lou Reed, Beatles, Elton John, Eric Burdon &The Animals, Joni Mitchell, Tim Buckley, Grass Roots, Buckinghams, Zombies, Gerry & The Pacemakers, Small Faces, Manfred Mann, Gene Pitney, Four Seasons, The Essex and Turtles.

We're back with Alexandre Dumas' incredible immortal heroic tale "The Three Musketeers" with Chapter 12- "George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham"! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

We're back with Alexandre Dumas' incredible immortal heroic tale "The Three Musketeers" with Chapter 12- "George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham"! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Send us a textOn this Episode Tom and Bert introduce the "Reel Dealz" Hall of Fame inductees (This is our 1st Class with many more to follow in the future)There are times when the pioneers of the 1960's Rock n Roll era need recognition for their masterful works as artists.Today's Podcast will cover artists that have been "overlooked" by many Music moguls and writers. The Music speaks for itself and Tom and Bert will give you their take and tell you why you must not dismiss these influencer artists.We introduce you to the 3 outstanding Groups that dominated the charts in the mid to late 1960's......."The Association" ......"The Buckingham's"......and "Gary Lewis and the Playboys"Listen in as we go through the early begininngs and amazing decorated careers of these underrated artists.CHAPTERS:(:40) Intro - Why we recognize these artists(2:43) Here are the ASSOCIATION!(19:10) Here are the BUCKINGHAM'S!(29:06) Here are GARY LEWIS and the PLAYBOY'S!(45:55) Facts, Q&A with The Buckingham's Dennis Tufano and Gary Lewis and our Final Thoughts ......and  it's a Wrap!!!Enjoy the Show!You can email us at reeldealzmoviesandmusic@gmail.com or visit our Facebook page, Reel Dealz Podcast: Movies & Music Thru The Decades to leave comments and/or TEXT us at 843-855-1704 as well

Today Razib talks to Eric Kaufmann, a Canadian professor of politics at the University of Buckingham, where he directs the Centre for Heterodox Social Science. He earned his BA from the University of Western Ontario and his MA and PhD from the London School of Economics. Prior to his current role, he held positions at the University of Southampton and Birkbeck, University of London, which he left in October 2023. He is the author of several books, including Whiteshift: Immigration, Populism and the Future of White Majorities, Shall the Religious Inherit the Earth?, and The Third Awokening. His research interests include nationalism, political and religious demography, and national identity. Kaufmann is a previous guest on the podcast. Razib and Kaufmann begin their conversation by exploring the thesis of one of his earlier works, 2004's Rise and Fall of Anglo-America. They discuss the definition of “WASP,” White Anglo-Saxon Protestant, and cultural changes in the white American majority because of the massive immigration waves of the 19th and early 20th century. Kaufman argues that a coalition of liberal WASPs and “white ethnics” was instrumental in the eventual overthrow of the cultural hegemony of elite Protestant whites in the second half of the 20th century. Razib and Kaufman then relate the history of the WASPs to his latest book, The Third Awokening, which chronicles the rise of “cultural socialism” centered around race. Kaufman documents the potency of the ideas of the latest variant of wokeness, their traction among the youth, and argues for its historical roots in earlier forms of Anglo liberalism.

The young Prince Edward arrives at The Temple Beautiful and complains to Richard about his uncles imprisonment. Richard tells him his uncles Rivers and Dorset were dangerous. Edward protests but is interrupted by the arrival of the Mayor of London who greets him with flattery. Edward asks about the whereabouts of his mother and brother, the Duke of York. Hastings arrives and tells Edward his mother and brother are in sanctuary. Buckingham orders Hastings to bring York to them by force. The Cardinal protests but Buckingham convinces him there's no need for sanctuary under these circumstances. Alone with his uncle Richard, Edward asks where he and his brother will be staying before their coronation. Richard tells him they're to stay in the Tower. Edward protests but is interrupted by the arrival of his younger brother. Little York teases Richard until he learns they're going to the Tower. He starts to argue but Edward tells him not to fear. They're taken away. Richard and Buckingham call in Catesby to test Hastings' loyalty. Once alone, Richard promises Buckingham the Earldom of Hereford. Later that night, a messenger from Stanley arrives at Barrington Hall to warn Hastings that Richard is going to kill him. Hastings reassures him that Richard won't harm him. Catesby arrives and hears from Hastings that he won't support Richard taking the throne, even though he had his enemies (Rivers and Dorset) killed. Stanley rolls up and warns Hastings not to trust Richard. Buckingham saunters out to meet them and takes them to the Tower for the coronation. Elsewhere, in a warehouse basement in Pomfret, Rivers begs for his life as Ratcliffe drowns him. The PLAY ON PODCAST SERIES, “RICHARD THE THIRD”, was written by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE and translated into modern English verse by MIGDALIA CRUZ. All episodes were directed by LISA ROTHE. Radio play by CATHERINE EATON.   This podcast was recorded under a SAG-AFTRA AGREEMENT.   The cast is as follows:   MATT FRASER                  as    RICHARD THE THIRD MIA KATIGBAK                 as    QUEEN MARGARET, CITIZEN and BLUNT HIRAM DELGADO             as    CLARENCE, DORSET, ELY and MESSENGER NANCY RODRIGUEZ        as    LADY ANNE, OXFORD, RIVERS and A MURDERER RACHEL CROWL              as    QUEEN ELIZABETH, NORFOLK, and MESSENGER SANJIT DE SILVA             as    NESS AQUINO, BUCKINGHAM, and A CITIZEN CHARLES DUMAS            as    EDWARD, HENRY the SIXTH, STANLEY & CARDINAL ANDY LUCIEN       as    HASTINGS, SCRIVENER, a MESSENGER and A MURDERER GABRIELA SAKER           as    CATESBY, DUKE OF YORK and A MESSENGER DANAYA ESPERANZA as BRAKENBURY, RATCLIFFE, LORD MAYOR, TYRREL, and  RICHMOND ALMA CUERVO              as    DUCHESS OF YORK, SHERIFF & A MESSENGER ELIJAH GOODFRIEND  as    PRINCE EDWARD, A PAGE, and A BOY   Casting by THE TELSEY OFFICE: KARYN CASL, CSA.   Voice and Text Coach: JULIE FOH   Original music composition, Mix and Sound Design by LINDSAY JONES. Composer, Producer, Guitars, Bass, Lead Vocals, Recording and Mix Engineer, DAVID MOLINA. EDWIN AYALA on Drums. Backup Vocals by MANUEL TRUJILLO. Sound engineering and mixing by SADAHARU YAGI. Mix Engineer and Dialogue Editor: LARRY WALSH. Podcast Mastering by GREG CORTEZ at New Monkey Studio. Coordinating Producer: TRANSCEND STREAMING (KYRA BOWIE and LEANNA KEYES). Executive Producer: MICHAEL GOODFRIEND.   The Play On Podcast Series “RICHARD THE THIRD” is produced by NEXT CHAPTER PODCASTS and is made possible by the generous support of THE HITZ FOUNDATION. Visit NEXTCHAPTERPODCASTS.COM for more about the Play On Podcast Series. Visit PLAYONSHAKESPEARE.ORG for more about Play On Shakespeare.   Subscribe to Play On Premium for ad-free episodes and join our Patreon for exclusive merchandise and early commercial-free releases. Go to nextchapterpodcasts.com for our Bonus Content, where you'll find interviews with the artists, producers and engineers who brought it all to life. And remember: “We are not safe”. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Today, John discusses the efforts Houston's Mayor in regard to the Trump administration, a study from the University of Buckingham, and takes your calls to talk about these topics.

Buckigham Nicks After a 52-year absence, Buckingham Nicks,the debut album by Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks, has finally been reissued in a newly remastered form. We’re joined by author Steven Cooper to talk about the album and Lindsey and Stevie’s journey from obscurity to international superstardom in Fleetwood Mac, and Steven tells us his story of meeting Stevie. Plus we […] The post Modern Musicology #148 – Buckingham Nicks appeared first on The ESO Network.

Una fuente del Palacio de Buckingham admite que "podrían venir más días de dolor" a medida que se publiquen las memorias de Giuffre, que someten al Príncipe Andrés a un mayor escrutinio.

In an episode recorded on location at the Wigtown Book Festival, Robert Kirkwood talks to Louise Minchin about 'Isolation Island', a novel inspired by both Agatha Christie and her time on I'm A Celeb, and to historian Lucy Hughes-Hallett about her book 'The Scapegoat: The Brilliant Brief Life of the Duke of Buckingham' plus we find new books in the RNIB Library.

Greg Brady spoke to Eric Kaufmann, Professor of Politics at the University of Buckingham about why fewer young people are identifying as trans? Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Freddie Sayers sits down with Professor of Politics at the University of Buckingham, Eric Kaufmann, to discuss his latest report on “The Decline of Trans and Queer Identity among Young Americans”, which reveals a significant and surprising shift in the landscape of gender and sexual identity among Generation Z. Professor Kaufmann explains his findings, which show a sharp drop in both trans and queer identification since 2023. Drawing on data from large-scale surveys of US undergraduates, he details how the share of trans-identified students has nearly halved in just two years. Their discussion explores the data, including trends in elite institutions, and delves into the potential reasons for this decline. Is it linked to changes in mental health, the growing distance from the pandemic and lockdowns, or the so-called “anti-woke” vibe shift? Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Inside the Tower, Clarence begs for his life. Later, at the Gilman DIY Music Venue, King Edward secures a reluctant peace between his family's rival factions, but collapses in grief when Richard arrives with news of Clarence's death. In the ensuing chaos, Richard secures the alliance of Buckingham and Ratcliffe. That night, Elizabeth and the Duchess grieve the deaths of Edward and Clarence. Richard enters to offer his condolences and Buckingham suggests a quiet coronation for the young prince Edward in order to avoid civil unrest. Meanwhile, Dorset and Rivers rush to secure the safety of Prince Edward in Ludlow. At Rasputin Records, citizens fret over being ruled by a child King with Richard as his Protector. At home with her younger son, the Prince of York, Elizabeth gets a tattoo as she ruminates with the Duchess over their horrible state of affairs. A messenger arrives with the news that Dorset and Rivers have been imprisoned in Pomfret by Richard and Buckingham. Elizabeth grabs York and withdraws in despair to sanctuary, leaving the Duchess behind. The PLAY ON PODCAST SERIES, “RICHARD THE THIRD”, was written by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE and translated into modern English verse by MIGDALIA CRUZ. All episodes were directed by LISA ROTHE. Radio play by CATHERINE EATON.   This podcast was recorded under a SAG-AFTRA AGREEMENT.   The cast is as follows:   MATT FRASER                  as    RICHARD THE THIRD MIA KATIGBAK                 as    QUEEN MARGARET, CITIZEN and BLUNT HIRAM DELGADO             as    CLARENCE, DORSET, ELY and MESSENGER NANCY RODRIGUEZ        as    LADY ANNE, OXFORD, RIVERS and A MURDERER RACHEL CROWL              as    QUEEN ELIZABETH, NORFOLK, and MESSENGER SANJIT DE SILVA             as    NESS AQUINO, BUCKINGHAM, and A CITIZEN CHARLES DUMAS            as    EDWARD, HENRY the SIXTH, STANLEY & CARDINAL ANDY LUCIEN       as    HASTINGS, SCRIVENER, a MESSENGER and A MURDERER GABRIELA SAKER           as    CATESBY, DUKE OF YORK and A MESSENGER DANAYA ESPERANZA as BRAKENBURY, RATCLIFFE, LORD MAYOR, TYRREL, and  RICHMOND ALMA CUERVO              as    DUCHESS OF YORK, SHERIFF & A MESSENGER ELIJAH GOODFRIEND  as    PRINCE EDWARD, A PAGE, and A BOY   Casting by THE TELSEY OFFICE: KARYN CASL, CSA.   Voice and Text Coach: JULIE FOH   Original music composition, Mix and Sound Design by LINDSAY JONES. Composer, Producer, Guitars, Bass, Lead Vocals, Recording and Mix Engineer, DAVID MOLINA. EDWIN AYALA on Drums. Backup Vocals by MANUEL TRUJILLO. Sound engineering and mixing by SADAHARU YAGI. Mix Engineer and Dialogue Editor: LARRY WALSH. Podcast Mastering by GREG CORTEZ at New Monkey Studio. Coordinating Producer: TRANSCEND STREAMING (KYRA BOWIE and LEANNA KEYES). Executive Producer: MICHAEL GOODFRIEND.   The Play On Podcast Series “RICHARD THE THIRD” is produced by NEXT CHAPTER PODCASTS and is made possible by the generous support of THE HITZ FOUNDATION. Visit NEXTCHAPTERPODCASTS.COM for more about the Play On Podcast Series. Visit PLAYONSHAKESPEARE.ORG for more about Play On Shakespeare.   Subscribe to Play On Premium for ad-free episodes and join our Patreon for exclusive merchandise and early commercial-free releases. Go to nextchapterpodcasts.com for our Bonus Content, where you'll find interviews with the artists, producers and engineers who brought it all to life. And remember: “We are not safe”. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Hometown Radio 10/10/25 6p: Jeff Buckingham updates on local fiber optics

On this day in Tudor history, 10 October 1530, Thomas Grey, 2nd Marquess of Dorset, died. Soldier, jouster, courtier, and grandfather of Lady Jane Grey, he lived a life that perfectly captured the dangers and rewards of Tudor ambition. Born into royalty - grandson of Elizabeth Woodville and Katherine Neville, sister of the Kingmaker - Thomas grew up in the shadow of shifting alliances and rebellion. He was imprisoned by Henry VII, restored under Henry VIII, and rose again through charm, courage, and sheer survival instinct. - He dazzled at court tournaments, fought in France in 1513, escorted Mary Tudor to her French wedding, and bore the sword of state at the Field of Cloth of Gold. - He sat in judgment on the Duke of Buckingham, backed Henry VIII's annulment, and—when the tides turned—joined the charges against Cardinal Wolsey. - Yet behind the glitter was a man who fought feuds, faced imprisonment, and watched power slip as easily as it came. By his death, he was one of England's wealthiest nobles—and the patriarch of a line that would end in tragedy with Lady Jane Grey. Join me,  historian and author Claire Ridgway, for the remarkable story of a Tudor magnate who lived, fought, and schemed at the heart of power. Don't forget to like, subscribe, and ring the bell for more daily Tudor history. #OnThisDay #TudorHistory #ThomasGrey #LadyJaneGrey #HenryVIII #TudorCourt #TudorDynasty #EnglishHistory #FieldOfClothOfGold #ClaireRidgway

Prince Andrew was effectively pushed out of Buckingham Palace following the public backlash over his friendship with Jeffrey Epstein and his ill-fated 2019 Newsnight interview. His charity initiative, Pitch@Palace, was told it could no longer operate out of the royal residence, with palace officials confirming the program would have to continue its work elsewhere. This marked one of the first visible steps in distancing Andrew from the royal household, as the monarchy sought to limit reputational damage while the scandal dominated headlines.In subsequent years, Andrew's separation from the palace became even more formalized. Reports confirmed that King Charles ordered him to vacate his suite of rooms in Buckingham Palace, effectively ending his ability to use it as a residence or office. This move coincided with Andrew being stripped of his military titles and royal patronages in early 2022, underscoring his diminished status within the royal family and leaving him largely isolated from public royal duties.to contact me:bobbycapucci@protonmail.comBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/the-epstein-chronicles--5003294/support.

Queen Elizabeth replays a tape of her husband King Edward's band as she obsesses over his failing health. Her brother, Lord Rivers, tries to comfort her, as do her two sons from a previous marriage, Gray and Dorset. She tells them that the sons she conceived with Edward are still too young to rule, and that if her husband dies, the throne will go to Richard until the oldest son comes of age, putting her safety in jeopardy. Buckingham and Derby arrive to report that King Edward's health is improving and that he wants to make peace between Richard and Elizabeth's clans. Richard barges in with Hastings at his side, railing that he's being disrespected and that people are telling lies about him. Elizabeth does her best to defend herself against his accusation that she put Clarence in jail and that she is vying for the throne. As they argue, the old Queen Margaret arrives unseen and listens to them from outside the house, commenting bitterly to herself about how quickly power is lost. She finally confronts the group and berates Richard for the murders of her family before cursing everyone in the room, one by one. After she departs, Catesby enters to say that King Edward wants to talk to his family. Richard, left alone, celebrates his mischief, then hires two murderers to kill his brother Clarence in the Tower. There, Clarence tells Brackenbury (the jailer) about a nightmare he had in which he drowned trying to rescue Richard and was dragged down to hell. The PLAY ON PODCAST SERIES, “RICHARD THE THIRD”, was written by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE and translated into modern English verse by MIGDALIA CRUZ. All episodes were directed by LISA ROTHE. Radio play by CATHERINE EATON.   This podcast was recorded under a SAG-AFTRA AGREEMENT.   The cast is as follows:   MATT FRASER                  as    RICHARD THE THIRD MIA KATIGBAK                 as    QUEEN MARGARET, CITIZEN and BLUNT HIRAM DELGADO             as    CLARENCE, DORSET, ELY and MESSENGER NANCY RODRIGUEZ        as    LADY ANNE, OXFORD, RIVERS and A MURDERER RACHEL CROWL              as    QUEEN ELIZABETH, NORFOLK, and MESSENGER SANJIT DE SILVA             as    NESS AQUINO, BUCKINGHAM, and A CITIZEN CHARLES DUMAS            as    EDWARD, HENRY the SIXTH, STANLEY & CARDINAL ANDY LUCIEN       as    HASTINGS, SCRIVENER, a MESSENGER and A MURDERER GABRIELA SAKER           as    CATESBY, DUKE OF YORK and A MESSENGER DANAYA ESPERANZA as BRAKENBURY, RATCLIFFE, LORD MAYOR, TYRREL, and  RICHMOND ALMA CUERVO              as    DUCHESS OF YORK, SHERIFF & A MESSENGER ELIJAH GOODFRIEND  as    PRINCE EDWARD, A PAGE, and A BOY   Casting by THE TELSEY OFFICE: KARYN CASL, CSA.   Voice and Text Coach: JULIE FOH   Original music composition, Mix and Sound Design by LINDSAY JONES. Composer, Producer, Guitars, Bass, Lead Vocals, Recording and Mix Engineer, DAVID MOLINA. EDWIN AYALA on Drums. Backup Vocals by MANUEL TRUJILLO. Sound engineering and mixing by SADAHARU YAGI. Mix Engineer and Dialogue Editor: LARRY WALSH. Podcast Mastering by GREG CORTEZ at New Monkey Studio. Coordinating Producer: TRANSCEND STREAMING (KYRA BOWIE and LEANNA KEYES). Executive Producer: MICHAEL GOODFRIEND.   The Play On Podcast Series “RICHARD THE THIRD” is produced by NEXT CHAPTER PODCASTS and is made possible by the generous support of THE HITZ FOUNDATION. Visit NEXTCHAPTERPODCASTS.COM for more about the Play On Podcast Series. Visit PLAYONSHAKESPEARE.ORG for more about Play On Shakespeare.   Subscribe to Play On Premium for ad-free episodes and join our Patreon for exclusive merchandise and early commercial-free releases. Go to nextchapterpodcasts.com for our Bonus Content, where you'll find interviews with the artists, producers and engineers who brought it all to life. And remember: “We are not safe”. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Linktree: ⁠https://linktr.ee/Analytic⁠Join The Normandy For Additional Bonus Audio And Visual Content For All Things Nme+! Join Here: ⁠https://ow.ly/msoH50WCu0K⁠Experience the raw echoes of rock's most turbulent romance as Analytic Dreamz delivers a compelling reaction to Lindsey Buckingham's candid reflections on Stevie Nicks and their seismic entry into Fleetwood Mac. In this unearthed interview, Buckingham recounts the high school sparks that ignited their partnership in 1967, evolving from Fritz bandmates to the struggling duo behind the overlooked 1973 Buckingham Nicks album. Desperate after its flop left Nicks waitressing, Buckingham leveraged his guitar prowess for a pivotal New Year's Eve 1974 call from Mick Fleetwood—insisting Stevie join as the condition for his enlistment, transforming the blues-rock outfit into a pop juggernaut.Analytic Dreamz unpacks Buckingham's insights on their pre-fame grind: five years of shared poverty, artistic clashes, and unbreakable musical synergy that fueled Fleetwood Mac's 1975 self-titled breakthrough. He delves into the lovers-to-exes saga, where their 1976 split amid rising stardom birthed Rumours' iconic tracks like "Go Your Own Way" and "Dreams"—heartbreak immortalized in platinum sales. Analytic Dreamz examines Buckingham's views on Nicks' ethereal influence versus his intricate fretwork, the 2018 firing drama, and lingering tensions post-Christine McVie's passing, questioning if reconciliation could revive the classic lineup for a farewell tour.From Buckingham Nicks reissues to Fleetwood Mac lore, Analytic Dreamz analyzes how their volatile bond redefined supergroup dynamics, blending vulnerability with virtuosity. For Lindsey Buckingham interviews, Stevie Nicks relationship breakdowns, Fleetwood Mac history reactions, and classic rock origin stories, this segment is your essential deep dive. Subscribe to Notorious Mass Effect for more Analytic Dreamz explorations into the anthems and animosities shaping music's golden eras. Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/analytic-dreamz-notorious-mass-effect/donationsAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy

Mark Seddon is joined by the authors of a Palestinian-led initiative which offers an alternative way forward for Gaza to Trump and Netanyahu's proposal. The working paper is titled, “A Palestinian Armistice Plan, Charting a Rights-Based Transition for Palestinian-Israeli Peace.” _______________ Support Palestine Deep Dive: https://www.palestinedeepdive.com/support _______________ Read the paper which was published in June 2025: https://cambridgepeace.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/06/Palestinian-Armistice-Plan.pdf The paper lays out “a pragmatic, rights-based plan for both a permanent ceasefire in the Occupied Palestinian Territory (OPT) and Israel and for the temporary transition period until a just, durable, and comprehensive settlement is reached to end the occupation and resolve all outstanding issues between Palestinians and Israelis.” The paper recommends terms and mechanisms for Palestinian national reconciliation and political renewal to enable effective Palestinian governance, as well as a principled approach for facilitating humanitarian relief, early recovery, and reconstruction in Gaza. Zaha Hassan is a human rights lawyer and a senior fellow at the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace. Dr. Jamal Nusseibeh is a former Global Fellow at the Wilson Center and co-author of the Palestinian Armistice. Dr. Wesam Amer is a visiting professor and CARA (Council for At-Risk Academics) fellow at the University of Cambridge in the United Kingdom, as well as dean of the Faculty of Communication and Languages at Gaza University in Palestine.  Mark Seddon is a former UN Speechwriter for Secretary General Ban Ki-moon and Former UN Correspondent for Al Jazeera. He now directs the Centre for UN Studies at the University of Buckingham.

Gregory Copley reports that Chinese leader Xi Jinping's power has diminished, noting he is expected to step down as General Secretary at the upcoming fourth plenum, retaining only the powerless PRC presidency. Copley suggests the new leadership may reduce global aggression because the country lacks money, resources, and solidarity for a global campaign, and faces massive domestic food and water crises. He also addresses Tony Blair's "surreal politic" role in the Gaza plan and the fragility of the clerical leadership in Iran. 1870 BUCKINGHAM

On this day in 1452, a boy was born at Fotheringhay Castle who would become England's last Plantagenet king: Richard III. I'm Claire Ridgway, and in today's episode we trace Richard's short, stormy road from noble son to fallen king, and the remarkable afterlife of his story, from Bosworth Field to a Leicester car park and DNA confirmation centuries later. In this podcast: Birth & family: the House of York and Cecily Neville, the “Rose of Raby” 1483: the pre-contract claim, Edward V's disinheritance, and Richard's coronation Challenges to the crown: Buckingham's rebellion & Henry Tudor's invasion Battle of Bosworth (22 Aug 1485): tactics, the Stanleys' decisive move, Richard's last charge Burial at Grey Friars, the 2012 discovery & DNA, scoliosis, and reinterment (2015) Legacy: usurper, reformer, courageous warrior, or a king made by brutal times? What's your take on Richard III—pragmatic protector, ruthless usurper, courageous warrior, or a product of his age? Tell me in the comments. If you enjoyed this On This Day, please like, subscribe, and ring the bell for more daily Tudor and late-medieval history. #OnThisDay #RichardIII #WarsOfTheRoses #Bosworth #Plantagenet #Fotheringhay #PrincesInTheTower #AnneNeville #Leicester #MedievalHistory #TudorHistory #History #Yorkist #DNA

What does it really take to build great leaders? In this episode of the Inspire Podcast, Bart Egnal sits down with Rob Buckingham, Executive VP at Quest Window Systems Inc and retired Canadian Forces Captain, to unpack how leadership is intentionally developed in both the military and business. Rob shares powerful lessons from his time in uniform when he was first exposed to foundational leadership and how the Canadian Forces empowers junior leaders to step up from day one. He explains how that experience taught him the value of feedback, the importance of resilience under pressure, and why empowering people early creates lasting strength in any organization. He then reveals how those same principles shaped his corporate career and what he learned as a management consultant and, more recently, in his current role as Executive VP of a global manufacturing company. He closes by sharing perspectives from his work with Treble Victor, an organization that matches veterans with civilian organizations, and shows why companies that tap into military leadership talent gain a powerful edge. If you've ever wondered what foundational leadership looks like in practice and how you can cultivate it in your own organization, this conversation is for you.   Show Notes 00:15 Show intro 00:52 Introducing Robert Buckingham 03:12 What is foundational leadership and why is it important? 03:18 Fostering a leadership culture  03:42 Empower junior leaders 04:07 What orgs get right and wrong about leadership development 04:53 Military officers have responsibility right away 06:12 Give junior leaders tools to lead early on  07:00 Why did you enlist in the army 09:42 What is Mission-command 10:28 Military gets planning and execution of tasks 12:57 Forecast Plan Control Review 13:29 Resilience 13:33 Key values: loyalty, integrity, mission first 13:49 Can you teach these leadership traits or are they innate? 15:09 High fallout rate in the military 18:35 Continuous training 19:41 Instantaneous coaching feedback 20:06 Growing a culture of feedback 20:18 What's the toughest feedback you got in your career? 21:19 Like sports team culture 21:35 The worst thing is complacency 24:04 One of my proudest achievements in the military 24:43 Transitioning from military to the corporate world, was it a shock? 25:59 Translating to civilian speak 28:01 What maps and what doesn't? 29:11 Put things in place, succeeded! 30:47 Span of control 32:35 Corporate environment never plan 33:29 50 50 leadership vs tasks 34:00 Joined Quest 35:01 Set your team up with a structure where information flows up and down 36:15 How to know how an org is doing with leadership? 36:49 Does the front line mission line up with the org's mission? 38:18 The Back Brief  39:55 Treble Victor 45:38 Thank yous 46:00 Outro  

On 1 October 1526, Dorothy Stafford was born, a woman of Plantagenet blood who would spend forty years at the heart of Elizabeth I's privy chamber. In this episode, I trace Dorothy's remarkable path: Family webs: Stafford–Pole lineage (Buckingham & Clarence), and marriage to Sir William Stafford, Mary Boleyn's widower. Exile & faith: Under Mary I she fled to Geneva; in 1556 John Calvin stood godfather to her son (then they famously fell out, and she moved to Basel). Return & rise: With Elizabeth's accession (1559), Dorothy joined the privy chamber and became one of the queen's trusted sleeping companions. When she broke her leg in 1576, the court scrambled for a replacement so the queen could sleep peacefully. Storms weathered: Even the Stafford Plot involving her son didn't unseat her. Dorothy died in 1604, remembered at St Margaret's, Westminster, as a “continual remembrancer of the suits of the poor.” A royal confidante. Mediator. Quiet backbone of a court. Had you heard of Dorothy Stafford before? Tell me in the comments! If you enjoy daily Tudor stories, please like, subscribe, and ring the bell. #DorothyStafford #ElizabethI #OnThisDay #TudorHistory #AnneBoleyn #PrivyChamber #Plantagenet #JohnCalvin #WomenInHistory #HistoryYouTube #ClaireRidgway

Hometown Radio 09/29/25 5p: Jeff Buckingham discusses cybersecurity and other tech issues

As his older brother, the newly crowned King Edward, weakens with illness, Richard, Duke of Gloucester, lays out his plans to take the throne. He frames his brother Clarence for conspiring to kill Edward, then convinces Lady Anne, the widow of the previous King Henry, to marry him, even though he killed her husband and their son. The PLAY ON PODCAST SERIES, “RICHARD THE THIRD”, was written by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE and translated into modern English verse by MIGDALIA CRUZ. All episodes were directed by LISA ROTHE. Radio play by CATHERINE EATON.   This podcast was recorded under a SAG-AFTRA AGREEMENT.   The cast is as follows:   MATT FRASER                  as    RICHARD THE THIRD MIA KATIGBAK                 as    QUEEN MARGARET, CITIZEN and BLUNT HIRAM DELGADO             as    CLARENCE, DORSET, ELY and MESSENGER NANCY RODRIGUEZ        as    LADY ANNE, OXFORD, RIVERS and A MURDERER RACHEL CROWL              as    QUEEN ELIZABETH, NORFOLK, and MESSENGER SANJIT DE SILVA             as    NESS AQUINO, BUCKINGHAM, and A CITIZEN CHARLES DUMAS            as    EDWARD, HENRY the SIXTH, STANLEY & CARDINAL ANDY LUCIEN       as    HASTINGS, SCRIVENER, a MESSENGER and A MURDERER GABRIELA SAKER           as    CATESBY, DUKE OF YORK and A MESSENGER DANAYA ESPERANZA as BRAKENBURY, RATCLIFFE, LORD MAYOR, TYRREL, and  RICHMOND ALMA CUERVO              as    DUCHESS OF YORK, SHERIFF & A MESSENGER ELIJAH GOODFRIEND  as    PRINCE EDWARD, A PAGE, and A BOY   Casting by THE TELSEY OFFICE: KARYN CASL, CSA.   Voice and Text Coach: JULIE FOH   Original music composition, Mix and Sound Design by LINDSAY JONES. Composer, Producer, Guitars, Bass, Lead Vocals, Recording and Mix Engineer, DAVID MOLINA. EDWIN AYALA on Drums. Backup Vocals by MANUEL TRUJILLA. Sound engineering and mixing by SADAHARU YAGI. Mix Engineer and Dialogue Editor: LARRY WALSH. Podcast Mastering by GREG CORTEZ at New Monkey Studio. Coordinating Producer: TRANSCEND STREAMING (KYRA BOWIE and LEANNA KEYES). Executive Producer: MICHAEL GOODFRIEND.   The Play On Podcast Series “RICHARD THE THIRD” is produced by NEXT CHAPTER PODCASTS and is made possible by the generous support of THE HITZ FOUNDATION. Visit NEXTCHAPTERPODCASTS.COM for more about the Play On Podcast Series. Visit PLAYONSHAKESPEARE.ORG for more about Play On Shakespeare.   Subscribe to Play On Premium for ad-free episodes and join our Patreon for exclusive merchandise and early commercial-free releases. Go to nextchapterpodcasts.com for our Bonus Content, where you'll find interviews with the artists, producers and engineers who brought it all to life. And remember: “We are not safe”. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The only studio album recorded by Lindsey Buckingham and Stevie Nicks as a duo is being re-issued for the very first time TODAY. Originally released in 1973 and recorded at Sound City Studios, this record introduced the duo’s incomparable harmonies alongside their individual styles.  The re-issue is sourced from the original analog master tapes and was produced by Keith Olsen.  In 1974, while Mick Fleetwood was scouting for a new studio for Fleetwood Mac’s next album, he visited Sound City Studios where Olsen shared “Frozen Love” to showcase both his production work and the studio’s sound. Soon after, Fleetwood Mac found themselves in need of a new guitarist. Remembering “Frozen Love,” Fleetwood reached out to offer Buckingham the spot, but Buckingham insisted he and Nicks were a package deal. The rest is history.

Myślisz o własnym biznesie?Może masz dosyć miejsca, w którym jesteś zawodowo i finansowo? A czas płynie?Poznaj nowość - mój praktyczny kurs dla początkującego przedsiębiorcy. Już w sprzedaży

Robert Maxwell, born Ján Ludvík Hyman Binyamin Hoch, was a British media proprietor, investor, and Member of Parliament. He was born on June 10, 1923, in Czechoslovakia (now part of Ukraine) to Jewish parents. Maxwell's early life was marked by the turmoil of World War II, during which he fought for the British Army.After the war, Maxwell started building his business empire, primarily in the publishing industry. He acquired Pergamon Press in 1951, which became the foundation of his media holdings. Over the years, Maxwell expanded his business interests into newspapers, including the acquisition of the Daily Mirror Group in 1984, making him one of Britain's most prominent media moguls.Maxwell was known for his flamboyant lifestyle and charismatic personality, often attracting both admiration and criticism. He was a Member of Parliament for the Labour Party from 1964 to 1970, representing Buckingham.However, Maxwell's business practices came under scrutiny, particularly concerning his use of employee pension funds to finance his various ventures. His companies' financial dealings were often opaque, and there were allegations of fraud and embezzlement.In 1991, Maxwell's empire came crashing down when he mysteriously disappeared while sailing on his yacht, the Lady Ghislaine, near the Canary Islands. His body was later found in the Atlantic Ocean, and the circumstances of his death remain controversial. Investigations revealed that Maxwell had been involved in massive financial fraud, with his companies being heavily indebted. The collapse of his empire led to significant financial losses for investors and employees.In this episode we once again pull the curtain back on the House Of Maxwell and get a glimpse of what's inside.to contact me:bobbycapucci@protonmail.comsource:Inside Ghislaine Maxwell's tragic family life: From media tycoon father who died in the Atlantic and the millionaire siblings who suffered bankruptcy, divorce and early death as disgraced socialite appeals against her sex trafficking conviction | Daily Mail Online