Anna Chant's Blog, page 10
January 5, 2019
RIP Edward the Confessor
On this day in 1066 King Edward the Confessor died, kickstarting one of the most eventful and momentous years in English history.
Although my characters Siward of Gloucester, Bridwin of Lichfield and Frebern of Warwick do not realise it, events have been set in motion which will change their lives forever, leading to a Quest for New England…
Rising from the Ruins is available in Kindle e-book and paperback!
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January 1, 2019
Daleks!
So, who else watched Dr Who tonight and was intrigued by the thought of a Dalek in 9th century Sheffield?
Well, take a look at this entry for the year 855 in the Frankish Annals of St Bertin!
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Strange times indeed! The Annals of St Bertin frequently mention Viking attacks on Wessex, so it seems reasonable to assume they would record a Dalek attack!
For more strange goings on in medieval times see Ghosts of the Dark Age
Source: Annals of St Bertin
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December 31, 2018
2018 – an even stranger year, but Quest for New England has begun
This time last year I wrote how 2017 was a strange year. Well, 2018 has proved to be even stranger and not in a good way. Here in the UK, our own government is threatening us with circumstances which would usually only occur in the face of some terrible natural disaster or war. Yet neither of these things are happening. We are simply inflicting this catastrophe on ourselves and every day I have to shake myself and ask, why? The wilful ignorance and attitude of our politicians too has been outstanding. One suddenly realising the importance of the Dover-Calais connection and another threatening the Irish with starvation were particular low points.
Personally, the year has been less strange and mostly good. I have joined an orchestra known gloriously as the Aubergines along with three generations of my family, while the summer saw one of our best family holidays, as we headed to France.
[image error]Credit: Alex Chant-Stevens
Heading up mountains, boating in a gorge and swimming in the Med dominated. We also found time to visit the stunning medieval town of Le Puy en Velay, [image error]as well as fulfilling a personal ambition and visiting another beautiful medieval town – Senlis, which I described in Senlis and the romance of Judith of Flanders. We also visited Park Asterix which is probably rather closer to my children’s idea of historical fiction!
As I stated last year my eldest son’s GCSE exams did dominate a big chunk of the year. But, and indulge me in a proud mum moment, the hard work paid off with an excellent set of results.
[image error]This last year also saw two new books. Dawn of the Franks became the latest in the Women of the Dark Ages series. It stepped back to the beginning of the era, to Basina of Thuringia. This was a lot of fun to write and was born out of the times when the heartbreak of God’s Maidservant got a bit too much for me. It’s a tale inspired by legend as much as history with some supernatural elements, which at times edged it into historical fantasy and is peopled by a delightfully naughty set of characters!
The second book saw a new beginning with a new series entitled Quest for New England.[image error] Based on a true story, this series follows a group of Anglo-Saxons as they struggle in the aftermath of the Norman Conquest. Book one Rising from the Ruins was published in November.
In September I was delighted to be awarded a 5-Star recommended read from J B Richards and the IHI Book Review Project for Kenneth’s Queen. A big thank you for this review and to all the others, people have taken the time to write. I do appreciate every single one of them![image error]
Also in the autumn I revamped the blog and welcomed my first guest author, Nancy Jardine, something I hope to do more of in 2019.
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So, what else will 2019 bring? Book two of Quest for New England, provisionally titled Peril and Plunder, is well underway. It is currently a complete first draft, covered in notes to myself telling me that most of it needs to be rewritten! Hopefully this will be released in the late spring/early summer with book three following towards the end of the year. I suppose by this time next year I will be thinking of where to go next. I have several ideas already and hopefully one of them will take off in my mind.
For the world, who knows what next year will bring? I have no idea whether I should be feeling hopeful right now or more fearful than ever? I often wonder how much current events influence my writing. Certainly Kenneth’s Queen, with its themes of unity and coming together, was influenced by the 2016 referendum campaign and very much reflected the beliefs I had than and still hold, that many of the world’s problems, such as climate change and religious and political extremism, need to be tackled in unity with our friends and neighbours.
There is then, a poignancy to the title of my latest series which several people have picked up on, as I suppose I too am on a Quest for New England (New Britain/ New UK? – it’s hard to know what it will be once the dust settles). Brexit has exposed some frightening attitudes in our society. Perhaps they were always there, but now seem more prevalent and accepted. Rising from the Ruins was dedicated to the memory of victims of war, an issue which is as relevant if not more so today as it was in the 11th century. Peril and Plunder will be dedicated to refugees and exiles – those desperate people who escape from a dangerous existence only to find themselves viewed with suspicion and who frequently end up as the undervalued outsiders. Can it be that one day, we will all have forged a new country, where such attitudes of prejudice and hate have been consigned to history?
A new year stretches ahead of us, a year when anything could happen. And if everyone tries to make it a good one, it probably will be! But for now, it only remains to wish you all, whether you are a reader, a fellow author or simply passing by, a very Happy New Year and every happiness for 2019!
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December 27, 2018
Kindle Countdown Deal: Rising from the Ruins
The e-book of Rising from the Ruins (Book one of Quest for New England) is just 99p or 99c until 3rd January.
Based on a true story, join Siward of Gloucester, an Anglo-Saxon nobleman, as he struggles with the aftermath of the Battle of Hastings and the Norman Conquest. Is there anything he can do to escape William the Bastard’s reign?
You can also read the Prologue and meet the main characters Siward of Gloucester and Oswyth, the daughter of the man who saves his life.
Also available in paperback!
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December 24, 2018
A Night of Fire (A Christmas Story pt. 9)
The story so far! Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five Part six Part seven Part eight
Cinaed and Graunt were both struck dumb at this comment, although Cinaed tried to find some words to protest, realising he could think of nothing worse than losing his little brother. Any punishment would be preferable.
Two tears rolled down Domnall’s cheeks. “I didn’t want to hurt Cinaed. I swear it, Father.”
“Silence, Boy.” Alpin looked sternly at Graunt and Cinaed. “Is this true? Was it Domnall’s fault?”
Cinaed found his voice at last. He stepped forward, putting his arm around Domnall. “No, Father, it was my fault. Domnall simply made an idle comment about how much fun it would be. He did not expect us to take him seriously. I was the one who pushed the idea. And I do not blame Domnall for dropping the stick. If I had done the same, I would have been in no danger.”
Cinaed had barely finished his speech when he felt Grant’s arm go around him.
“I needed no persuasion, Uncle. And it was I who stole the fat and the bowl from the abbey. You should blame me.”
Gaining courage from the presence of the other two, Cinaed’s grey eyes clashed with Alpin’s. “We all thought it would be fun and it was.”
As the others nodded, Alpin’s face went scarlet with rage at this defiance. He picked up a stick.
“Turn around,” he snapped, ignoring Unuis’s protests.
[image error]Blow after blow rained down on their backs and shoulders, the stinging even more severe than they expected. Cinaed bit his lip till it bled in his determination not to cry out. Never had he experienced his father in such a rage and he prayed he never would again. When it was over, Cinaed could see the tears in Domnall’s eyes, which was hardly surprising given the lad was only six. His own were smarting and Graunt was blinking furiously, but all three were able to stop the tears from spilling over.
“Your behaviour has been appalling. All three of you,” Alpin roared. “You ruined Yule night for the Islanders. You could easily have been killed or very seriously injured. You could have injured someone else. You gave poor Unuis the scare of her life. You stole from an abbey of all places. This is completely unacceptable. And even now I do not hear one word of regret from any of you.”
The three boys had clung together. “We’re sorry,” they said, in small voices.
“I should hope you are,” Alpin said, looking calmer as he folded his arms. “You will be on bread and water for the next two days. At prayers this afternoon, you will publicly apologise to the abbot and the Islanders.”
He surveyed the three boys and to Cinaed’s shock, there was a definite hint of pride on his face. Cinaed realised that if he and Graunt had allowed Domnall to take the blame, they would probably have escaped punishment, but Alpin would have despised them both. Undoubtedly it would have been Domnall who he took to Dunadd.
“Father, have you decided who is going to Dunadd with you?” he asked.
Alpin raised his eyebrows. “After last night, why do you think I am taking any of you?”
The tense silence was broken by Unuis. “Alpin, you promised we would take Cinaed. He is your oldest son. It is only right. I am keeping my end of the bargain by being kinder to your bastard and I will raise him as my own.”
Alpin looked irritated. “Very well. We will take Cinaed. Let us hope he has learnt to conduct himself a little better by then.”
Cinaed’s burst of excitement dampened as he caught the expressions of the other two. “What of my brothers?”
“What of them?” Alpin asked.
“I think it would be fun if they came too,” he said.
“Do not be foolish, Cinaed,” Unuis muttered. “It is right that this honour goes to you alone.”
“Fun?” exclaimed Alpin. “I can only imagine what trouble you three could get into at Dunadd. There is no way I am taking all three of you.”
Cinaed swallowed, longing to go to Dunadd more than almost anything. “Then I think I would prefer not to go.”
“Don’t be a fool, Cinaed,” Graunt whispered.
Cinaed shrugged and looked down, hardly able to bear the disappointment.
“You must come with us,” Unuis begged. “Think how fine it will be, just you, your father and me.”
“Come here, Cinaed,” Alpin said.
Cinaed edged forwards, wondering if he was to get another beating. Domnall and Graunt came with him, even though they had not been summoned. Alpin narrowed his grey eyes to glare down at Cinaed.
“So you are refusing this honour?”
“Yes, Father, unless my brothers can come too.”
“Fine. Stay here on Iona, if you have no more sense than that.” Alpin’s eyes moved speculatively from Graunt to Domnall.
“Don’t choose me, Uncle,” Graunt said quickly. “I would prefer to stay with Cinaed.”
“Not the heathen boy,” Unuis moaned. “What sort of sign does it give, if you have him beside you that day and not your true son?”
Alpin scowled. “Domnall is my son. I shall take him.”
“Thank you, Father,” Domnall said politely, unable to resist smirking at Unuis. “But I would rather stay with Cinaed and Graunt.”
Alpin sat back in his chair, astonished at the honour refused by all three. Rage twisted his face into ugly lines. But just as Cinaed was thinking they should run as fast as they could and find somewhere to hide, it broke into a huge grin and he ruffled their heads.
“These three will stick together forever,” he said proudly.
He pulled Domnall onto his lap and put one arm around Cinaed, placing the other round Graunt. “I think you have learnt a valuable lesson today, Cinaed. You are my eldest son and will likely lead many men one day.” He looked up at Unuis with a pleading expression, Cinaed had never before seen on his father’s face. “Cinaed is to be my heir. Nothing can change that and nor do I wish to change it.” He sent a mischievous look at Cinaed and his voice wobbled slightly for his next words. “Truly I revere the lad.”
[image error]Cinaed choked and buried his face in his father’s shoulder to stifle his giggles. Unuis had no idea what afforded the pair such amusement, but her face lit up at the affection so evident between father and son. Still smiling, she came over, putting her own arms around them.
Alpin forced his expression to become serious once again. “Perhaps one day, Cinaed, you will even be a king like your grandfather. But it is the support of those closest to you that is always the most valuable. Stand together and you will defeat any foe, just as you have defeated me this day.”
“What do you mean, Father?” Cinaed asked.
“The determination of all three of you to stand together, rather than accompany me to Dunadd means that I am now forced to consider your suggestion.”
Graunt stared at him, excitement lighting up his eyes. “You mean you will take us all?”
“Really, Father?” Domnall cried, flinging his arms around Alpin’s neck.
Alpin laughed, looking at Unuis. “May God help us, my dear lady. I can’t begin to imagine the mischief these three are going to get into at Dunadd, but it is fitting that all three of my lads stand with me on the day my father is crowned.”
Cinaed smiled, leaning his head against his father’s shoulder. “Thank you, Father.”
Alpin raised his eyes in mock despair, as he kissed the top of Cinaed’s head. “You are right, Cinaed. It will be fun.”
Wishing everyone a very merry Christmas and every happiness for 2019!
To see what happens when these three naughty boys grow up, Kenneth’s Queen is available on Amazon in ebook and paperback.
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December 23, 2018
A Night of Fire (A Christmas Story pt.8)
The Islanders, who had been staring at the ball of fire rolling on the ground, sprang into action. One man seized Cinaed’s cloak, tearing it from his shoulders. There was a brief instant before the pin gave way, where the heat threatened to become unbearable and then it was thrust away to be consumed by the flames. [image error]The cool air came in a welcome rush onto Cinaed’s trembling body, but the flames at the end of his plait licked upwards, threatening to sear the skin off his neck and cheek. There was a sharp pain as a man seized a clump of hair, smothering the flames with his own cloak. Cinaed swayed against him, breathing heavily. Somehow he had remained unburnt.
Islanders clustered around him, their torches burning brightly as they anxiously examined his face.
“It’s the Lord Cinaed,” one said in horror.
They looked around and spotted the other two clinging together. “It’s all the young lords,” another said.
The three were escorted back to the hall where they were greeted by Unuis in horror.
“What were you thinking? You could have been killed,” she exclaimed, seemingly unsure whether to hug Cinaed or shake him.
Cinaed tried to brush it off, but Unuis was aghast. “You know you are not allowed down there. I thought you were watching from a safe distance. Oh, go to bed all three of you. Your father will speak to you in the morning.”
That formidable threat considerably dampened the spirits of all three boys, as they slunk to the corner of the hall, pulling blankets around their shoulders.
Cinaed scowled at Domnall, who was giggling. “What are you laughing at?” he noticed that Graunt too was grinning.
“You look stupid,” Domnall said, pointing at his hair.
Cinaed looked down. One plait was the same as ever in a dark blonde, while the other was half the length, with the end frazzled and black. He lay back.
“Tomorrow is not going to be fun.”
…
The next morning they were not even allowed to break their fast before being summoned. Alpin’s mood after a night of feasting and drinking was never going to be the best first thing in the morning. That morning he looked so furious, they scarcely recognised him. They walked slowly towards him, trying not to let the fear show in their faces.[image error]
“I have heard what happened. And I have heard from the Abbot that a large quantity of grease and the Abbot’s own bowl are missing from the abbey,” Alpin said ominously. “What do you have to say for yourselves?”
Domnall stepped forward, staring up at his father out of clear blue eyes. “It was my fault, Father. The fireball was my idea.” His lip trembled. “And it was because I let go of the stick that Cinaed got burnt.”
Unuis sniffed. “I thought as much,” she said. “I have told you, Alpin, what a bad influence that heathen boy is on the other two. Often I have said he should go back to his own people. Perhaps now he has tried to kill Cinaed, you will listen to me.”
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December 22, 2018
A Night of Fire (A Christmas Story pt7)
The story so far! Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
Their fireball was exactly where they had left it. The dried grass had absorbed some of the fat and had become sticky on the outside once again. It wobbled slightly on the stick.
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Cinaed said.
“Yes, come on. We don’t want to be late,” Graunt added.
The fireball was heavy, so Cinaed and Graunt carried it between them, fat covering their hands, as Domnall trotted behind them, chattering in excitement. With their hoods over their faces, they joined the islanders flocking to the sacred beach where it was said that the blessed Saint Columba had taken his first steps on that land. No one took any notice of them. Cinaed wiped his greasy hands on his cloak, worried that the stick might slip from his grasp. He muttered a curse as he realised one plait of hair had been resting against the ball. It too would be greasy. Impatiently he shoved it back, deciding to worry about an excuse the next day if his mother noticed.
A low pipe sounded. The boys grinned at each other and Cinaed and Domnall took their places in a circle, where other hooded figures were holding aloft their own creations. The ball wobbled again, but it seemed to be holding.
[image error]Over by the fire, Graunt plunged a stick into the flames. Proudly he carried it over to Cinaed and Domnall. Around them the other spheres were already bursting into flames and starting their procession up the hill.
Domnall was shuffling from foot to foot, hardly able to wait for the moment when they too could join the procession. Graunt held the stick close to the ball and instantly the grease saturated grass began to smoulder. Then with a whoosh, the flames shot into the air. Graunt stepped back in shock, but Cinaed grinned proudly. Their fireball seemed to be burning far brighter than any other. He knew their’s would be the best. The heat scorched his face, and fragments of burning grasses dropped down. Cinaed was too busy staring in wonder to worry about that but Domnall cried out and let go of the stick, taking a sharp step back.
[image error]The ball of fat wobbled as Cinaed was suddenly left to bear the load alone, slipping on the stick. Cinaed froze in shock, not even crying out when the ball tumbled towards his arm, sparks flying. Some struck his grease coated cloak and hair. Still he could do nothing other than stand and stare, as his cloak and hair smouldered. The screams of Domnall and Graunt rang out. There was nothing they could do but wait for him to burn.
To be continued…
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December 21, 2018
A Night of Fire (A Christmas Story pt 6)
The story so far! Part one Part two Part three Part four Part five
Cinaed darted to the door, not a moment too soon. Just outside he collided with one of the brothers.
[image error]“Why, young Cinaed. What brings you here?”
It was Brother Indrechtus, the monk most commonly charged with his instruction. However much he hated the lessons, Cinaed liked the man. “I was looking for you. I was hoping for an extra lesson so I can be as wise as Graunt.”
Brother Indrechtus folded his arms and looked down at Cinaed from twinkling eyes. “I know what this is about, young man. You care nothing for being wise. You just wish to impress your father.”
Cinaed shuffled, allowing a rueful grin to suggest to the monk he was right. “Please can I have some instruction?”
The monk shook his head, but put his hand on Cinaed’s shoulder. “Very well, my son. Come this way.” And to Cinaed’s relief, he led him away from the refectory.
…
“That was the most boring morning of my life,” Cinaed announced when he finally returned.
He had found Domnall and Graunt laughing together in one of the storage huts, where the younger boy was engaged in breaking the sticks into tiny pieces and dropping them by the handful into the pot of grease Graunt was stirring.
“And you’re probably still not as wise as me,” Graunt said, throwing a load of dried grass at him.
Cinaed threw it back. “I might be.”
“You’re not even as wise as me,” Domnall cried.
Cinaed’s reply to that was to push him into the pile of dry grass, pinning him down. “Take back those words.”
“Never,” Domnall cried, shoving his brother back with surprising strength.
Still laughing, they brushed the grass from their hair and turned their attention back to the pot.
“How much did you steal?” Cinaed exclaimed.
“You said to take lots,” Graunt retorted. “Anyway, I want our fireball to be the biggest and brightest one there.”
“Can I be the one to carry it?” Domnall asked.
“I think it might be a bit heavy for you,” Graunt said.
Domnall face fell and Cinaed quickly said, “We’ll carry it together and Graunt can be the one to light it.”
With that plan happily agreed, they added some of the dried grass to thicken the mixture in the pot, before moulding it into a ball. It was a somewhat squashed effort and the outside was smeared with a grease which left a sticky mess on their hands.
“Just put some more grass on the outside,” Graunt said. “It will be fine.”
Domnall did as he was instructed, looking pleased with his handiwork and Cinaed inserted a stick so they could hoist it high into the air. Leaving it in a dark corner of the storage hut, they hurried to clean themselves. Already the sun hung low in the sky and it was not long before Unuis called them to dine.
“You must hurry if you are going out to see the fireballs,” she said.
They grinned surreptitiously at each other as they tucked into meats, using chunks of [image error]bread to soak up the thick vegetable broth. Afterwards they rushed to change into plain, dark clothes and hoods.
“We look just like islanders,” Cinaed said. “No one will know it’s us!”
To be continued…
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December 20, 2018
A Night of Fire (A Christmas story pt 5)
[image error]The story so far! Part one Part two Part three Part four
Cinaed shuffled, hoping he did not look as guilty as he suspected he did.
“We are not up to anything, Uncle,” Graunt said, his tone a touch too virtuous.
“Indeed.” Alpin frowned. “When I was here in the summer, you two barely gave Domnall a passing glance. Now, since I have told you I am looking to see which one of you impresses me, you are suddenly most affectionate. If that is a pretence, I shall not be happy.”
Cinaed almost laughed from his relief. “It is no pretence, Father. Truly I revere Domnall.”
Alpin roared with laughter at that. “Revere him? I love the boy dearly, but I do not revere him.”
“But he is wise,” Graunt exclaimed.
Alpin grinned. “Are you two mocking him?”
Cinaed gave a mischievous smile. “Yes, but truly we like him. We have done for ages before you came back.”
It had not really been ages, but Cinaed was finding it hard to remember a time he had disliked his younger brother and he could tell Graunt felt the same way.
Alpin folded his arms again. “Hmm. I hope so.” His tone turned serious. “The lad looks up to you two. It would be cruel if this was a pretence.”
“It is not, Father. I swear it. He is my brother.”
“Good. The lad is in need of guidance and could learn much from you two.” He turned away, but not so quickly that Cinaed heard him mutter, “And God knows I cannot trust your mother with that.”
Cinaed frowned. It had not escaped his attention that Unuis had been much kinder to Domnall since Alpin’s return. No wonder his father was suspicious of a deception.
As they placed their sticks by the fire to dry, they noticed Alpin sat beside Domnall, telling him an old tale. It was one Cinaed had heard many times, but he was tempted to join them, thinking how fine it would be for them all to sit together. Unuis too was watching, as Alpin put his arm around Domnall, her expression anxious. But Graunt tugged on his sleeve.
“The monks are all at prayer at the moment and Uncle Alpin is distracted with Domnall,” Graunt whispered. “There is no better time.”
…
The sound of chanting drifted from the church as they entered the abbey, but as Graunt [image error]had said, no one was to be seen. Near the fire, the monks had laid out the ingredients for their Yuletide feast, including a vast pot of melted animal fat.
“How much do we need?” Graunt asked.
“I don’t know. We’ll take plenty.” He paused. “What are we going to put it in?”
Graunt looked around. There was a large bowl on the table. “We’ll have to borrow this. I’ll sneak it back later.”
Graunt was carefully ladling the fat into the bowl when they heard footsteps approaching the door. They looked at each other in horror.
“How can the prayers be over already?” Graunt whispered.
“I’ll distract them. Just get the fat back to our dwelling.”
To be continued…
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RIP Athelbald, King of Wessex
On this day in 860, Athelbald, King of Wessex died. He is one of those kings we don’t know much about. An early mention of him is positive, describing the part he played in a defeat of the Vikings. But later records are not so positive and Asser described his reign as ‘lawless’.
Personally, I have a bit of a soft spot for this bad-boy king and find it amusing that the rather saintly Alfred the Great should have this wild older brother!
Athelbald is a key character in Three Times the Lady where he appears as Judith’s oldest stepson.
But does he become more to her than that?
RIP Athelbald.
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I’ve written more about Athelbald in Judith of Flanders – the Wessex years and Aethelwulf of Wessex – a Dad for the Dark Ages
