We assembled the thirty guests by the portcullis at sundown and, after carrying the food and drink up to the parapet, Ivana laid out the food on the trestles Marko had brought, while and Zoran and I mixed up cocktails beside one of the deserted gun ports of the massive thirty-two pounders that could hurl their cannon balls three miles out to sea. The view from the ramparts gave an uninterrupted panorama of the bay and the surrounding islands. The gunners could have blown anything out of the water that came within range. Fort George was a top-of-the-range fort of its day. Built to house five hundred men, it was an impressive piece of late-eighteenth-century fortification, and, perched on its rocky headland, it stood there starkly forbidding. I looked over the battlements as we mixed up the drinks. By now, the burning sun was darkening from orange to red and turning the bay into a pool of liquid gold. The roofs of the village were suffused with the glow and the stone of the ramparts around us were washed with fiery pink.
What do You think about Under A Croatian Sun (2014)?
