Deborah Swift's Blog, page 13

Review – Letting in the Light by Charlotte Betts #GreatWar #Cornwall @PiatkusBooks

LETTING IN THE LIGHT by Charlotte Betts

1914 Spindrift House, Cornwall

Edith Fairchild’s good-for-nothing husband, Benedict, deserted her when their children were babies. Now the children are almost adult, Edith and Pascal, her faithful lover of two decades, are planning to leave their beloved Spindrift artists’ community and finally be together.

But an explosive encounter between Benedict and Pascal forces old secrets into the light, causing rifts in the happiness and security of the community. Then an assassin’s bullet fired in faraway Sarajevo sets in motion a chain of events that changes everything.

Under the shadow of war, the community struggles to eke out a living. The younger generation enlist or volunteer to support the war effort, facing dangers that seemed unimaginable in the golden summer of 1914.

When it’s all over, will the Spindrift community survive an unexpected threat? And will Edith and Pascal ever be able to fulfil their dream?

REVIEW

I’d been waiting for a few quiet relaxing moments to finish off this trilogy, knowing how much I’d enjoyed the first two parts.

This is the third book in the Spindrift Trilogy set in an artists colony in Cornwall. In this book we see the culmination of all the plot threads that went on in the previous two books, and also how the younger generation are influenced by the mistakes and successes of their parents.  We are hooked from the get go, by the fact someone wants to turn the house we all know and love into a hotel,  and the action from then on never stops.

Charlotte Betts has an enormous cast of characters to deal with, but such is the quality of the writing that you are always sure who is who, and what their relationship is to the others in the story. The great mix of characters is one of the joys of this novel, from the scheming Gabrielle, and the hateful Benedict, to Edith who is doing her best to hold everything together against the encroaching tide of war and its inevitable changes. There are old family feuds, unrevealed secrets to discover, and of course a love that sustains Edith and Pascal over all the generations. This is a great entertaining novel and I highly recommend it. To get the most from the series though, I suggest you read them all.

PS You’ll probably need tissues for the end.

BUY THE BOOK

You can read more about the series here on Charlotte’s website

Follow Charlotte on Twitter @CharlotteBetts1

The post Review – Letting in the Light by Charlotte Betts #GreatWar #Cornwall @PiatkusBooks first appeared on Deborah Swift.

Extract and Review: The Missionary by Rowena Kinread #Roman #Pagan #Irish #CoffeePotBookClub

Read this atmospheric extract from The Missionary by Rowena Kinread

They trudged on at a steady pace for several hours. Patricius’ initial optimism died rapidly. He had blisters on his toes and heels. The iron shackles had scoured the skin around his ankles, and they were so sore that every step was torture. The goats were no longer patiently obedient but kept stubbornly stopping and trying to munch grass or chomp leaves. Each time they did so, the underking bellowed and let his whip crack. Sometimes the tip nicked Patricius’ back painfully. The track had become narrow in many places where brambles had engulfed the passage, and Patricius’ arms and legs were covered in bloody scratches. They hadn’t passed a single house, farm, village or town. Nor had they seen a single person. When the midges started descending and dusk approached, the light was so poor that Patricius stumbled again and again over tree roots on the ground, scrubbing his knees and nearly losing the goats. The mosquitos began to attack his body, sticky with sweat, and although he tried to wipe them away with his free hand, they feasted upon him, causing swollen red bumps that itched irritably.

The moon had already started to rise in the sky as they emerged from the forest. They entered a glen with rolling hills, and at its base, a small lough. Here they stopped and pitched camp. Orders were shouted back and forth.

The livestock were led to the lakeside to drink and then tethered to trees and fed. Wood was collected and a fire lit. A huge iron pot was suspended on three poles over the fire. The servants boiled water in it and added chunks of meat and vegetables.

Patricius and Domi pointed to their shackles and, motioning with their hands, begged a servant for them to be removed. The servant pointed to the underking, said “Miliucc,” and shook his head.

In the meantime, the underking, Miliucc, had made himself comfortable. He sat on sheepskins, leant his back against a wheel of the wooden cart, and was drinking beer and stroking his dog. He was still wearing his fox stole. When the food was ready, it was brought to him with a loaf of bread. He ate noisily, dipping bread into the stew and slurping. Patricius’ stomach rumbled. He had had nothing to eat all day. Miliucc took his time. When he was eventually satisfied, he fished chunks of meat out of the soup with his grubby fingers and fed them to his dog. She gobbled them up greedily, licking his fingers, whilst Domi, Patricius and the servants watched. Not until she had finished did Miliucc gesture to the servants to take the pot away. The servants fell over the food hungrily, not letting the slaves anywhere near it. Only when they too were finished, were Patricius and Domi allowed to mop up the dregs with a bread crust. Then together, still hungry, Patricius and Domi limped to the lake, washed themselves and cleansed their wounds.

Back at the camp, Patricius used his teeth to rip strips of fabric from his tunic and bandage his ankles, hands and feet. His head was still aching from the blow he had received, and his teeth started to chatter. He edged as near to the fire as he dared, curled up and listened to the leaves rustling in the breeze. Far in the distance, he heard wolves howling, and a grey heron screeched as it flew away from the edge of the lough. He had never felt so afraid and lonely in his entire life.

My Review of The Missionary

This novel fictionalizes the life of St Patrick. It begins in 406 AD when life in Britain is unstable and the formerly Roman lands were subject to invasions by warring tribes. It is a brutal time and one where civilisation meant the keeping of slaves and commonly, the use of women as chattels. In a violent invasion, Patricius is captured and taken as a slave by the Gauls in Hibernia. His horrendous experiences there lead him to want to return later in life and bring the Christian faith of goodness and mercy to their land.

The novel is extremely well researched and well written, with excellent descriptions of ancient Ireland and its way of life. It leads you to consider the idea of magic and miracle in religion, and how these things were used to convert people to God (s). Both genuine experience and trickery can be seen at work in this novel, not least when Patricius must defeat the Druids at their own brand of magic.

Patricius himself is deeply flawed, and an explanation for this choice is made at the end of the book. He has his good points too, a deep love for animals, and a willingness to try to atone for this appalling sin that haunts him. The novel covers his whole life and is a great introduction for anyone who knows little about him. Clear notes explain what is fact and what is fiction.

I recommend this book to all who are interested in Roman, Irish or Christian history, and are prepared to set aside their preconceptions about what a Saint should look like. Thoroughly worth reading.

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About Rowena:

Rowena Kinread grew up in Ripon, Yorkshire. After leaving school she started working for Lufthansa in Stuttgart. There she met her future husband whom she married in Ripon. After raising 3 children, she began working as a secretary in a private physiotherapy practice. At the same time, she started writing non-fiction books and magazine articles. Retirement finally brought the financial security to start writing full length fiction. A keen interest in history and her own family ancestry inspired her debut novel “The Missionary”, the dramatic story about the life of St.Patrick.  A second book “The Scots of Dalriada” will be published this year. Rowena says that she welcomed retirement and all its wonderful opportunities to launch a third career.

Website: rowena-kinread.com  Twitter: https://twitter.com/RowenaKinread

The post Extract and Review: The Missionary by Rowena Kinread #Roman #Pagan #Irish #CoffeePotBookClub first appeared on Deborah Swift.

The Lake Pagoda by Ann Bennett – Read an Extract #WW2 #IndoChina #CoffeePotBookClub #Bookouture

Read this stunning extract from The Lake Pagoda by Ann Bennett

Chapter 1

Paris, November 1946

Arielle pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders and stepped out of the entrance to the apartment building and onto the broad pavement of Boulevard St Germaine. An icy wind whipped around her, driving up from the River Seine, funnelled by the tall buildings. She shivered and gritted her teeth against the weather. It was so alien to her, this biting cold air that chilled you to the marrow of your bones. In her native Hanoi, the temperature, even in the cooler months, was always comfortable and she was so used to the sultry heat of that city that this Paris winter was a cruel shock.

Even so, she needed to get out. She couldn’t stay inside the stuffy, cramped apartment a moment longer, and while her father was sleeping it was difficult to do anything in that tiny space without disturbing him. So, each morning she left the building to tramp the streets of this alien city, exploring the alleys of the Latin Quarter, the cobbled lanes and churches of the île de la Cité, the boulevards and gardens of the Eighth Arondissement. And as she walked, she watched the stylish Parisians going about their business, dashing to and fro in fashionable clothes, getting out of taxis, riding on trams, pouring down the steps of the metro. She was trying to understand her new home, to find her place in it, to find some meaningful connection with this great, intimidating city. And there was something else she was searching for too.

Now, as she braced herself against the wind and started walking along the boulevard away from the apartment, she glanced guiltily back up at the windows on the third floor. She always worried when she left Papa alone. What if he were to wake up and call out for her? What if he had one of his coughing fits? But he always encouraged her to go. ‘Go on, explore while I’m resting. You need to get to know the place. You can’t stay cooped up with a sick old man all day. I’ll be fine on my own.’ But still she worried.

She carried on down the road, making for the market in Rue Mouffetard. Cars and buses crawled past belting out fumes. Through the lines of slow-moving traffic wove bicycles and pony traps, army jeeps too. It felt so bleak here and so dull after the vibrant colours of Hanoi; the plane trees that lined the pavements had lost their leaves, their branches stark against the tall, pale buildings, and the sky between them was an ominous slate grey.

She walked past a couple of bus stops without pausing. She’d never yet got on a bus in Paris; she had no idea how they worked and was afraid of drawing attention to herself, even though she told herself it was perfectly safe here to do so. Years of having to keep a low profile in Hanoi had made her fearful of attention from anyone. Not that she need worry here in Paris, people barely noticed her. She could walk in the midst of a crowd as if she didn’t exist. And if anyone’s eyes did happen to light on her, seeing her dark skin and black hair they would quickly flick away, for she was half Vietnamese and it was as if she were invisible to them; a nobody.

ABOUT THE BOOK

Indochina 1945: Arielle, who is half-French, half-Vietnamese, is working as a secretary for the French colonial government when the Japanese storm Hanoi. Although her Asian blood spares her from imprisonment, she is forced to work for the occupiers. The Viet Minh threaten to reveal dark secrets from her past if she won’t pass them information from her new masters.

Drawn ever deeper into the rebels’ dangerous world, will Arielle ever escape the torment of her past? Or will she find love amidst the turmoil of war?

A novel of love, loss, war, and survival against all odds.

BUY THE BOOK or read on #KindleUnlimited

Ann Bennett was born in Pury End, a small village in Northamptonshire, UK and now lives in Surrey. Her first book, A Daughter’s Quest, originally published as Bamboo Heart, was inspired by her father’s experience as a prisoner of war on the Thai-Burma Railway. The Planter’s Wife (originally Bamboo Island) a Daughter’s Promise and The Homecoming, (formerly Bamboo Road), The Tea Panter’s Club and The Amulet are also about the war in South East Asia, all six making up the Echoes of Empire Collection. Ann is also author of The Runaway Sisters ,The Orphan House, and The Child Without a Home, published by Bookouture. Ann is married with three grown up sons and a granddaughter and works as a lawyer. For more details please visit www.bambooheart.co.uk  Twitter: https://twitter.com/annbennett71

The post The Lake Pagoda by Ann Bennett – Read an Extract #WW2 #IndoChina #CoffeePotBookClub #Bookouture first appeared on Deborah Swift.

The Stone Rose by Carol McGrath #medieval #historicalfiction #Review @AccentPress

This is the third in the splendid She-Wolves Trilogy and I’ve read them all. This one is about Queen Isabella, wife to Edward II. In my opinion this is the best and a fitting finale to an exploration of women and their role at court. From the opening where we are plunged into All Soul’s Night and every knock at the door could be a horror, to the end, when Isabella is alone and only contemplating the ghost of Edward, her husband and King, we are completely immersed in another world.

The novel benefits from the secondary character, Agnes, a real life stone-mason who is commissioned to carve her tomb and is to tell Isabella’s story and make sure we know the truth. Out in the land, England is recovering from the devastation of the Black Death – something that makes these characters’ lives seem even more fragile., Much of court life is political maneuvering and Carol McGrath manages to keep the tensions up by the use of her characters and their personal concerns. For example, at one point Isabella bemoans the fact that her husband was always happiest away from his castle duties and insists on mixing with the peasants, something she thinks beneath him. Isabella is dismayed too by his choice of companions. Those people who, like me, have studied Shakespeare’s Edward II will know of Piers Gaveston, and he features in this book along with another of the King’s  favourites, Hugh Despenser.

Isabella comes across as a strong woman beset by the troubles of a husband whose ear is poisoned by his favourites who have their own agendas. This is a fascinating slice of history to which Carol McGrath does ample justice in this gripping novel.  Historical notes at the end explain the choices the author made.

History fans will love this well-researched evocation of court life. Highly recommended.

You can BUY the BOOK HERE

Find Carol McGrath on her website www.carolmcgrath.co.uk

Or chat to her on Twitter @carolmcgrath

 

The post The Stone Rose by Carol McGrath #medieval #historicalfiction #Review @AccentPress first appeared on Deborah Swift.

Historical Fiction Spotlight: Beheld by Christopher M Cevasco #AngloSaxons #HistoricalFiction #CoffeePotBookClub

NEW RELEASE!  BEHELD ~ Godiva’s Story

by Christopher Cevasco

A darkly twisted psychological thriller exploring the legend of Lady Godiva’s naked ride.

Having survived a grave illness to become one of 11th-century England’s wealthiest landowners, Godgyfu of Coventry (Lady Godiva) remains forever grateful to the town whose patron saint worked such miracles. She vows to rebuild Coventry’s abbey and better the lives of its townsfolk. But the wider kingdom is descending into political turmoil, and her husband, Earl Leofric, starts to break under the strain. Godgyfu finds her own plans unravelling the moment she meets Thomas, a Benedictine novice with perverse secret desires. Three lives become dangerously entangled in a shocking web of ambition, voyeuristic lust, and horrid obsession. Can Godgyfu escape the monk’s menacing wiles and Leofric’s betrayals to secure her future in a changing kingdom? Perhaps, but first she faces a dark test of wills leading her perilously closer to a legendary ride…

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About Christopher Cevasco

Christopher M. Cevasco was born in New Jersey and spent a memorable decade in Brooklyn, New York, but he feels most at home in medieval England, Normandy, Norway, and Greenland. A lifelong passion for history and fiction led him to earn degrees in Medieval Studies and English and later to embark upon a writing career that merges these two loves.

Chris was the founding editor of the award-winning Paradox: The Magazine of Historical and Speculative Fiction from 2003 to 2009. His own short stories appear in Black Static, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Distant Echoes (Corazon Books, UK), and the Prime Books anthologies Shades of Blue and Gray: Ghosts of the Civil War and Zombies: Shambling Through the Ages.

A long-time member of the Historical Novel Society, Chris currently serves on the society’s North American conference board as registration chair for the upcoming 2023 conference in San Antonio, Texas. Chris lives with his wife and their two children in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.

Find Chris here:

Website: https://www.christophermcevasco.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/cevasco_m

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/christopher.m.cevasco

The post Historical Fiction Spotlight: Beheld by Christopher M Cevasco #AngloSaxons #HistoricalFiction #CoffeePotBookClub first appeared on Deborah Swift.

Sea of Shadows by Amy Maroney #CoffeePotBookClub #Rhodes #Greece #History

The new novel by Amy Maroney is a stunner. Here is the blurb:

A gifted woman artist. A ruthless Scottish privateer. And an audacious plan that throws them together—with dangerous consequences.

No one on the Greek island of Rhodes suspects Anica is responsible for her Venetian father’s exquisite portraits, least of all her wealthy fiancé. But her father’s vision is failing, and with every passing day it’s more difficult to conceal the truth.

When their secret is discovered by a powerful knight of the Order of St. John, Anica must act quickly to salvage her father’s honor and her own future. Desperate, she enlists the help of a fierce Scottish privateer named Drummond. Together, they craft a daring plan to restore her father’s sight.

There’s only one problem—she never imagined falling in love with her accomplice.

Before their plan can unfold, a shocking scandal involving the knights puts Anica’s entire family at risk. Her only hope is to turn to Drummond once again, defying her parents, her betrothed, even the Grand Master of the Knights himself. But can she survive the consequences?

With this captivating tale of passion, courage, and loyalty, Amy Maroney brings a lost, dazzling world to vivid life.

Sea of Shadows is Book 2 in a series of stand-alone historical novels packed with adventure and romance.

REVIEW OF SEA OF SHADOWS

This is the second book of this series but can absolutely be read as a stand-alone novel. Historical fiction fans will love the carefully evoked detail of the island of Rhodes, and the two main protagonists, Anica Foscolo an artist desperate to learn to paint in oils, and Drummond Fordun a courageous Scottish privateer. Though this is a romance, there is plenty of action, for Rhodes in the middle ages was a hotbed of piracy, slavery and religious tension. It is also a dangerous place, for here a  servant can lose an ear or a hand if  they steal or lie.

As well as the main characters, I really appreciated the fully-rounded secondary characters – Heleni, the flirtatious and selfish sister, Aunt Rhea the forthright business woman, and Troilo Salviati from the grasping Florentine family we love to hate, to mention only a few. I don’t want to spoil the plot, as it contains many surprises for the reader to enjoy.

In the novel we learn about the new technique of oil painting, with its imported linseed oil, as well as the life of a man at sea and the defences of the island from invaders by the Knights from the forts around the island. I highly recommend this novel of action, adventure and romance to anyone seeking a well-written historical novel with an unusual setting. A novel that lives up to its cover and won’t disappoint.

READ AN EXCERPT

Summer, 1459
Aegean Sea
The rising sun warmed Drummond Fordun’s back and cast a golden glow on the familiar curves of Rhodes. Shifting waters spread out before him, blue-black as a raven’s wing. He stared mesmerized at the waves for a moment, savoring the dance of light and color. Scotland’s sea had never inspired awe in him as the Aegean did. Then again, all this beauty came with a price.

He glanced over his shoulder at the distant shores of Turkey. No swift Turkish fuste were in pursuit, he saw with relief, but that meant nothing. Infidels could be gathering in coastal villages or quiet coves along those shores even now, preparing their sleek vessels to launch an assault on Rhodes tonight.

Overhead, the sails billowed and snapped in the shifting breeze. The wind had been their ally on thevoyage south to Alexandria. The return journey was a different story. A sudden gale had scattered their convoy like errant twigs, cracking one galley’s mainsail mast. The craft trailed the convoy now, a lame sheep struggling to keep up with the flock. Drummond prayed no further harm would come to the damaged ship or its crew.

He strode to the steps leading to the hold. “I see Rhodes!” he bellowed. “Your wives and families await!”

A cheer went up from the rowers on their benches below decks, soon followed by the lilting refrain of a Greek folk song. As usual, his Rhodian oarsmen brightened at the thought of home—and the extra pay Drummond would portion out as soon as they docked. He knew how to keep his men
loyal.

Drummond signaled to his Genoese first mate, a mercenary who’d seen years of action on these seas and was as handy with a crossbow as he was with a compass. “More power from the starboard oarsmen when the harbor walls come into view,” he ordered. “This wind has half a mind to blow us to the Black Sea.”

“As you command, Captain,” the Genoese said in his best approximation of Scots-accented English.

“Och,” Drummond said. “You’ve been practicing. I’m impressed.”

The man put a hand to his chest and bowed slightly. “Grazie.”

Two gulls appeared over the galley and glided on a current of air near the mainsail mast, studying the men with cold yellow eyes.

“We’ve got nothing for you,” the Genoese informed the birds. “If it’s fish you’re after, or biscuit, you’d best look elsewhere.”

It was true. Their hold was nearly empty. Besides ballast, the last soggy rations, and the ever- present barrels of wine and ale, they’d little to show for the journey. But that was as planned. A small wooden box, a letter for the Order’s grand master from the Mamluk Sultanate of Egypt, and several passengers were the only items of value they’d brought back from Africa.

“The lighter the load, the swifter the journey,” Drummond said. “Once we dock, see that the galley is tied up and put to rights. I’ve got to escort the knights to the palace—if we can get through the crowds. With this merchant fleet coming in, the harbor will be jammed.”

“What about our special guest?” the Genoese asked, jerking his head at the figure shrouded in a dun-colored silk cloak who sat under a canvas shade at the stern of the galley. “Is he a man or a statue, I wonder? Every time I glance his way, he’s sitting like a lump of stone.”

Drummond kept his eyes on the island ahead. “He moves. And talks.”

“You speak to him?” The Genoese looked astonished.

“He’s an interesting fellow.”

“Careful what you say to the man. You know these infidels. Can’t be trusted, no matter how charming they seem.”

Drummond raised an eyebrow. “Who made you the expert on Syrians?”

His crewman shrugged. “Syrians, Turks, Egyptians. They’d slit our throats to a man if given half a  chance.”

“In this case, you’re mistaken. He’s saved more lives than you or I can imagine. And Christian ones at that.”

“How so?” The Genoese seemed genuinely mystified.

A gust of wind flapped the sails, died down, then rose again.

“This wind’s no help, and we’re close enough,” Drummond said, ignoring the question. “Have the crew trim the yards and sails.”

The stone towers standing sentinel over Rhodes harbor came into view as the Genoese turned away, dispensing orders to the crew. A fleet of merchant ships was clustered at the entrance to the commercial harbor, which was already crowded with vessels. Small rowboats ferrying goods from the ships to the quays wove in and out of the bobbing crafts. Two light galleys rowed past the chaos, heading toward the Mandraki, the Order’s military harbor.

Drummond drew in a breath and bellowed, “Let’s skim around this tangle of ships and follow those galleys to the Mandraki.”

The familiar sounds of the harbor descended upon them. Men shouting, the clang of iron on rock from the weapons arsenal under construction nearby, the harsh screams of seabirds circling overhead. Citizens of the city streamed through gates in the massive stone walls, attracted by the
arriving fleet.

As they entered the calm waters of the inner harbor, the tension Drummond had carried in his chest ever since they’d left Alexandria began to ease. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine the night ahead. Dice, cards, a big meal, a visit to the bathhouse, perhaps a few hours in the city’s finest brothel—or a visit to the lovely Genoese courtesan who kept a private apartment near the marketplace. Then a long, peaceful night of rest in his rented chambers near the Inn of the English. The possibilities swam in his mind, tantalizing him.

Reluctantly, he pushed them aside. The first orders of business were tying up the galley, paying his rowers, transferring three of his passengers to the palace, and delivering a letter to the grand master. Only after all of that would he have an opportunity to relax. “Prepare to dock!” he called as the galley slipped through the water toward the quay. “Let’s show the Order how a landing should be done!”

Buy Links: This novel is available on #KindleUnlimited

BUY THE BOOK https://mybook.to/SeaOfShadows

About Amy Maroney

Amy Maroney studied English Literature at Boston University and worked for many years as a writer and editor of nonfiction. She lives in Oregon, U.S.A. with her family. When she’s not diving down research rabbit holes, she enjoys hiking, dancing, traveling, and reading. Amy is the author of The Miramonde Series, an award-winning historical fiction trilogy about a Renaissance-era female artist and the modern-day scholar on her trail. Her new historical suspense/romance series, Sea and Stone Chronicles, is set in medieval Rhodes and Cyprus. Website: https://www.amymaroney.com/

Twitter:@wilaroney

Facebook: www.facebook.com/amymaroneyauthor

The post Sea of Shadows by Amy Maroney #CoffeePotBookClub #Rhodes #Greece #History first appeared on Deborah Swift.

When the Mermaid Sings by Helen Hollick #Extract #CoffeePotBookClub #ShortStory

When the Mermaid Sings by Helen Hollick

A prequel short read story to the Sea Witch Voyages of Captain Jesamiah Acorne

When the only choice is to run, where do you run to?

When the only sound is the song of the sea, do you listen?

Or do you drown in the embrace of a mermaid?

Throughout childhood, Jesamiah Mereno has suffered the bullying of his elder half-brother. Then, not quite fifteen years old, and on the day they bury their father, Jesamiah hits back. In consequence, he flees his Virginia home, changes his name to Jesamiah Acorne, and joins the crew of his father’s seafaring friend, Captain Malachias Taylor, aboard the privateer, Mermaid.

He makes enemies, sees the ghost of his father, wonders who is the Cornish girl he hears in his mind – and tries to avoid the beguiling lure of a sensuous mermaid…

An early coming-of-age tale of the young Jesamiah Acorne, set in the years before he becomes a pirate and Captain of the Sea Witch.

A DISPATCH FROM THE AUTHOR – HAPPY BIRTHDAY HELEN!
Today, 13th April, is my birthday. (I can’t believe that I’m 69!) so the excerpt I have chosen for today – although a different date – is also my pirate’s birthday. But his is slightly more adventurous than mine!

A brief bit about the Sea Witch Voyages:
I wrote the first Voyage (Sea Witch) back in 2005 after thoroughly enjoying the first Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Like most avid readers, however, I wanted more than just the movie, I wanted to read something that was as entertaining and as exciting. A nautical adventure with a charming rogue of a pirate captain, written for adults (with adult content) but with a dash of supernatural fantasy as well – elements of which had made that first movie such fun to watch. I found many nautical-based novels, but they were all ‘serious stuff’ – Patrick O’Brian, Alexander Kent, C. S.Forrester … all good reads but without the fantasy fun, and barely a female character in sight. I simply could not find the book I wanted to read. So, I wrote my own.
The first Voyage led to more books in the series, and also generated several emails from fans who wanted to know how Jesamiah had become a pirate in the first place. When the Mermaid Sings answers that question.

EXCERPT
Cornwall, England, December 1708
The boy with the black hair had been invading Tiola’s dreams again. She sat in the barn, hidden in the summer-cut hay; she often came here because the smell and the dust made her father sneeze, so he avoided the place, just as she avoided him as much as she could. Her two man-grown brothers had no care for an irritating almost-eight-year-old girl, so neither did they come searching. Her other brothers, Carter and Bennett, nine and three years her elder, preferred to be out in their boat, fishing, unless the Cornish weather was too inclement even for them to tolerate. Her mother knew where and why she sought the solitude, but Mother knew that her only daughter took after her own mother, and respected her especial gift of Fey, and left her to the privacy of
her visionary thoughts. Tiola, named for that same grandmother, was an inquisitive child who behaved older than her years and was full of questions: what are clouds made of? Why is the sky blue? How wide is the sea? Who is the boy I see in my dreams? She had asked that last question only once. The resulting whipping from her father, the Reverend Garrick, had taught her the prudence of silence.

2

She sighed. Her mother was calling for her to come and help with the afternoon chores. All Tiola wanted to know was the identity of the boy with black, curly hair. Boy? No, young man now. He had been a boy when first she had watched him, but last night, in her dream, she had clearly seen that he was growing up, maturing into manhood. She had watched him, in her mind, many times; felt his enjoyment as he dabbled with the gentle flow of the river and sailed, or mended, or painted his boat. Had cringed when the shadow of his brother blotted the sun, wept with him when the cruel bullying left its mark of fear and pain. She knew about that wicked shadow of fear, for her father cast the same shadow. She had saved him, the boy, all those months ago, when he had almost given in to the grief of despair, and surrendered to the malignant presence of Death. She had shouted at him with mind-words: ~ Get up! Fight back! ~ But she needed to know who he was because she had to continue to keep close watch over him. Had to keep him safe. How and why, she was not yet certain, but she would find out, one day. Perhaps soon? Or maybe when she was a woman grown, and this embryonic gift of Craft that she possessed, passed from grandmother to granddaughter, was fully awakened?

Read more: How I met Jesamiah Acorne (the tru-ish) story

Praise :

“Ms Hollick has skillfully picked up the threads that she alludes to in the main books and knitted them together to create a Jesamiah that we really didn’t know.” Richard Tearle senior reviewer, Discovering Diamonds

Find Helen on  her website: https://www.helenhollick.net

Social Media: Twitter    Facebook

 

BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY –

BUY THE BOOK:

AMAZON  UK  US  CA  AU

The post When the Mermaid Sings by Helen Hollick #Extract #CoffeePotBookClub #ShortStory first appeared on Deborah Swift.

The Carnival of Ash by Tom Beckerlegge #Historical #Fantasy #Renaissance

Today I’m welcoming Tom Beckerlegge to tell us more about his new literary novel, The Carnival of Ash.

The Carnival of Ash is a historical fantasy set during the Italian Renaissance in an imaginary city called Cadenza, where poets and scholars as its most important citizens. In the wake of the death of Cadenza’s ruler, the book traces the city’s decline and fall through a series of interlinked tales featuring a cast of would-be writers and warring poets, ink maids, psychotic gravediggers, and more than one set of estranged lovers.

The story opens with the arrival of Carlo Mazzoni at the city’s gates. A young poet from the countryside, Carlo’s hopes of making his name rest on verses he has written inspired by the poem De Incendio Urbis (“On the Burning of the City”) by the ancient Roman poet Lucan. Both Lucan and his poem are real, although the latter is a lost work, leaving much of its contents open to debate. It is known that Lucan had been a friend and favourite of the Emperor Nero: in AD 60, he won a prize for his poetry at the quinquennial Neronia, a lavish festival of sport and the arts. But at some point, there was a falling-out. Classical sources differed on the source of the dispute – according to one, Nero had become jealous of his former friend, and forbade him to publish any more poems; according to another, the emperor disrupted a public reading by Lucan by calling a meeting of the Senate. Whatever the truth, a match had been lit; a feud begun that would end in blood.

In the summer of AD 64, two-thirds of Rome was destroyed in a devastating fire that burned for more than a week. In De Incendio Urbis, Lucan is thought to have directly accused Nero of being complicit in the inferno. The following year, the poet became involved in the conspiracy organised by Gaius Calpurnius Piso to assassinate the emperor. But their plans were exposed on the morning of the murder and the conspirators were rounded up and tortured. The philosopher Seneca –
Lucan’s uncle – the satirist Petronius and Lucan himself received orders from Nero to kill themselves. Lucan sliced open a vein and bled to death, reciting his own verses with his last breath. The rich history behind De Incendio Urbis made it irresistible to me, and I had to include it in The Carnival of Ash.

Inspired by the poem, my hero Carlo writes his own version, “City of Flames”, which he dedicates to Cadenza’s all-powerful ruler, Tommaso Cellini – who, in the early years of his reign, had survived his own attempted assassination. Yet Carlo arrives at the city gates to learn that Tommaso is now dead, and he is brutally rejected by the literary circles he hopes to impress. As Cadenza slides into discord and anarchy, Carlo and the city’s inhabitants face a fight if they are to save it from the same fiery fate that Rome suffered.

As Tom Becker, I’ve been writing children’s books for more than 15 years, and this is my first adult novel. I’ve relished the chance to weave fact and fiction together; I hope that The Carnival of Ash brings Cadenza alive, and that readers can lose themselves in the twists and turns of its streets.

BUY THE BOOK: mybook.to/CarnivalofAsh  Hardback, ebook, audiobook
Find Tom on Twitter: @Tbeckerlegge

Tom’s website: https://tombeckerlegge.wordpress.com/

The paintings of burning Rome are by Hubert Robert, an 18th Century artist who spent eleven years in Rome.  (Wikipedia)

The post The Carnival of Ash by Tom Beckerlegge #Historical #Fantasy #Renaissance first appeared on Deborah Swift.

Naughty Language in Tudor England by Carol McGrath #Tudor #Love #Language

I’ve been looking forward to my guest, Carol McGrath enlightening me about Tudor language, and particularly the naughty words! 

Carol McGrath is the author of the acclaimed She-Wolves Trilogy, which began with the hugely successful The Silken Rose and continues with the brand new The Damask Rose. She was born in Northern Ireland, and fell in love with historical fiction at a young age, reading  children’s classics and loving historical novels especially Henry Treece, The Children’s Crusade, and, as a teenager, Anya Seton’s Katherine and everything by Jean Plaidy. Visiting the Tower of London and Hampton Court Palace aged eleven was thrilling for her. Exploring Irish castles such as Carrickfergus introduced her to wonderful stories. At only nine years old an archaeological dig in Donegal was inspirational. Carol came away with a few ancient mammal teeth. While completing a degree in history, she became fascinated by the strong women who were silenced in records, and was inspired to start exploring their lives. Her first novel, The Handfasted Wife, was shortlisted for the Romantic Novelists’ Association Awards, and Mistress Cromwell was widely praised as a timely feminist retelling of Tudor court life. Her novels are known for their intricacy, depth of research and powerful stories.

Over to Carol!

What might have been said on the street in Tudor England?

Language on the street was, for example, less restrained than, say, that used in literature and poetry. Private manuscripts were often openly sexual in terminology. There is talk of shameful sex in these writings such as weak women ‘giving way’ and of women having ‘no ability to control themselves when faced with male desire’. Society actually believed both sexes gained pleasure from sex and thought an orgasm was essential for a woman to conceive. Society considered that sexual misbehaviour was worse when committed by women than by men. Whilst a man could boast about his powers and his sexual appetite, a woman had to find extenuating circumstances to downplay her choice of actions. A list of sexual insults used in everyday street talk by Tudors includes the words whore, harlot, knave and bawd, which were often used in an aggressive manner. Smell-socks was a term to make fun of one who might sniff a woman’s underwear. Euphemisms for sex included ‘bedsport’, ‘tilling the fields of Venus’, or ‘nice play’ to suggest male and female enthusiasm. Ballads and jokes included a range of slang terms such as ‘pie’, ‘secret parts’, ‘corner’, ‘plum’, ‘hole’ or ‘pond’ for the vagina, and ‘shaft’, ‘pride’, ‘tool’, ‘cock’, ‘prick and ‘horn’ for the penis. Prostitutes were whores, harlots, trulls, jills, drabs, and geese or mackerel. ‘To make a fist’ was a term meaning to masturbate as well as throwing a punch. Here is a further selection of naughty terms that existed in Tudor times.

Assail/assault: laying siege to a body’s chastity. Bawdry: is dirty talk or behaviour and the bawdy-house is the whore house. Bone-ache: pain due to a venereal disease or the disease itself. Cliff: take her cliff is slang for female parts such as clef. Cock: actually also a substitute for God. ‘Cock’s passion’ in Taming of the Shrew, IV. i. 118.

Codpiece: a man’s privies as well as the decorative bag fashionable men like Henry VIII wore. Die: to have an orgasm. Do: all-purpose word for ‘have sex’. Drab: a prostitute. Fig: expletive accompanied by an obscene gesture. Jakes: privy or outhouse. Lap: crotch. Maidenhead: female virginity. Malady of France: the pox. Male varlot: masculine whore. Naughty: lewd. Pap: nipple. Pistol or Pillicock: penis. Play: to sport wantonly. Powdering tub: a heated tub in which one was supposed to sweat a venereal disease. Pox: venereal disease usually syphilis. Privates: secret parts Punk: low-class strumpet. Quean: whore. Stand to: be erect. Stones: male part. Thing: sex organ, male or female. Tool: penis. Top: satisfy a lover. Treasure: a woman’s sexual zone especially a virgin’s sexual zone. Tub-fast: abstinence from food and drink while in the powdering tub. Tup: mating. Virgin knot: hymen. Weapon: male organ in an aggressive state. Will: sexual desire but also referring to sexual organs. Yard: penis.

Canterbury Tales (Britannica.com)

During medieval and Tudor times, street names in towns reflected the work done there. For example, Love Lane may reflect a euphemism for prostitution occurring there. London’s Love Lane was formerly Roper Lane, so named for the rope making business or after someone with the surname ‘Roper’. Lovat Street was thought a corruption of Lucas, a local landowner, but it was formerly Love Lane and was changed to avoid confusion with London’s other Love Lane. Stew Lane was named after the former stew or hot steamy bath that existed on premises there. Grope or Cunt Lane was common in towns. The meaning of the word grope was to clasp hands or grab. It has not significantly changed its meaning to this day. Grope Lanes can be found in many English towns of the era such as Norwich, Bristol, York, Shrewsbury, Whitby, Wells, Newcastle and others. These lanes were narrow, dark alleys or passageways rather than actual streets. They were usually close to a town’s commercial centre, close to market places, high streets or public quays, or near churches. This raises the question: did travellers and clergy as well as perhaps parishioners routinely resort to prostitutes? Oxford’s Cocks Lane appears to be a place of illicit sex. In Piers Plowman by William Langland there is a reference to ‘Clarisse of Cokkes Lane.’

Piers Plowman Manuscript (Wikipedia)

Like many other towns of the era, Cambridge hosted traditional fairs. The Stourbridge Fair lasted for a full month and sold luxury and everyday items. However, behind the tempting booths, one might discover equally appealing purpose-built bedrooms. During the fair streets would assume temporary names. One such street was named Oyster Row. Either oysters could be purchased there or sex, or, enticingly, both: ‘they (hawkers) mingled with the poorest of the fair’s customers and the rag-tag assortment of beggars, petty thieves and prostitutes also hoping to make their way.’ The Cambridge Stourbridge Fair attracted many sex workers during the early 1500s and prostitutes would move between fairs. Perhaps the next time you are in one of the above mentioned cities you might keep an eye out for sexually explicit names reaching back centuries and indicative of places where, during the sixteenth century, a needy man, priest or youth might seek sex. Next time you watch a Shakespeare play do consider the saucy language he used – commonplace in Tudor society – as euphemism or when punning, explicitly sexual and very often sexist to our twenty-first century, liberated ears but also titillating and very entertaining.

SEX AND SEXUALITY IN TUDOR ENGLAND

The Tudor period has long gripped our imaginations. Because we have consumed so many costume dramas on TV and film, read so many histories, factual or romanticised, we think we know how this society operated. We know they ‘did’ romance but how did they do sex? In this affectionate, informative and fascinating look at sex and sexuality in Tudor times, author Carol McGrath peeks beneath the bedsheets of late fifteenth- and early sixteenth-century England to offer a genuine understanding of the romantic and sexual habits of our Tudor ancestors. Find out the truth about ‘swiving’, ‘bawds’, ‘shaking the sheets’ and ‘the deed of darkness’. Discover the infamous indiscretions and scandals, feast day rituals, the Southwark Stews, and even city streets whose names indicated their use for sexual pleasure. Explore Tudor fashion: the codpiece, slashed hose and doublets, women’s layered dressing with partlets, overgowns and stomachers laced tightly in place. What was the Church view on morality, witchcraft and the female body? On which days could married couples indulge in sex and why? How were same sex relationships perceived? How common was adultery? How did they deal with contraception and how did Tudors attempt to cure venereal disease? And how did people bend and ignore all these rules?

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For more news from Carol, exclusive content and competitions, sign up to Carol’s newsletter at http://www.carolcmcgrath.co.uk. or ollow her on Facebook: /CarolMcGrathAuthor1 and on Twitter: @CarolMcGrath

The post Naughty Language in Tudor England by Carol McGrath #Tudor #Love #Language first appeared on Deborah Swift.

Richard II’s London by Mercedes Rochelle #blog #CoffeePotBookClub #HistoricalFiction

I’m thrilled to bring you an excellent post from Mercedes Rochelle about London in the time of Richard II. Thank you Mercedes!

While researching this novel I had the good fortune to stumble across the book “The Turbulent London of Richard II”—not, as it turns out, because of the content. It was way too specialized for me. But it came with the most awesome fold-out “sketch map of London in the time of the Peasant Revolt” that I photocopied and taped to my wall. It’s still there, three novels later. I spent hours scrutinizing it until I had a faithful understanding of England’s most important city, most of which was still tucked inside of the old Roman walls.

This was important, for at the time of the Peasants Revolt, the city officials relied on the wall to keep the rebels out. There were seven gates in the Roman wall: Ludgate (facing west), Newgate (where the prison was), Aldersgate (facing Smithfield), Cripplegate, Bishopsgate, Aldgate (east, facing Mile End), and the Postern Gate at the Tower of London (pedestrian only). The only other way into London was over the London Bridge, which had a drawbridge at the Southwark end. Of course, the mayor of London was dependent on the loyalty of his gatekeepers, and this ultimately failed him. Once Aldgate was opened and the insurgents came pouring into the city from the east, he had no choice but to lower the drawbridge and give passage to the Kent rebels.

London Bridge was a world all its own, populated by every conceivable business except taverns—for they had no cellars. The shops occupied the ground floor with their colorful signs nine feet above the pavement so a horse and rider could pass underneath. Every sign displayed an image representing a trade so it could be identified by anyone, literate or not. The bridge was twenty feet wide, lined on both sides by buildings cantilevered over the edge, supported by huge wooden struts. Each house only occupied four feet of the stone platform; which meant that only twelve feet was left to accommodate the road. Two and three stories high, the houses blocked out the sun like a tunnel, especially since many of the top floors were connected by an enclosed walkway. This would have been the conduit through which thousands and thousands of rebels pushed their way into the city. At this stage of the rebellion they were exhorted by their leaders to be well-behaved, though I can only imagine the trepidation felt by the hapless shopkeepers.

Interestingly, one of the rebels’ first targets was John of Gaunt’s great Savoy palace, which was the most elegant townhouse in all of London. It bordered the river, upstream on the way to Westminster along the Strand. The Strand was the London version of Millionaire’s Row: wealthy riverfront properties free of the stink and pollution of the city. To get to the Strand, you had to pass out through Ludgate then cross the Fleet, an open sewer polluted by the butchers and tanners dumping their refuse into the River Holborn—not to mention the prison sewage. The Fleet in turn poured its stinking offal into the Thames. And that’s not all: at certain docks along the river contained laystalls (think Dicken’s Puddle Dock, at Black Friars). This is where the night soil, or human excrement, was piled up, eventually to be taken away by five barges located downstream. You can just imagine the horrific stench.

 

Savoy Palace from the later date of 1650 from British History Online

Anyway, the rebels had to pass the famous Knights Hospitaller Temple along the way to the Savoy (they would be back—that’s where the lawyers lived). You also had Durham House (residence of the Bishop of Durham), York House (for the Bishop of York), the convent of the White Friars…you get the idea. I don’t think any of these palaces escaped the attention of the insurgents. Once they destroyed the Savoy—literally, for they accidentally blew it up with barrels of gunpowder, trapping many of the rebels in the cellar—they rampaged their way back into the city, spreading out in their efforts to eliminate the hated foreigners who competed for jobs and took food from their mouths. Oh, and to see how much plunder they could amass.

During the early phase of the Peasants’ Revolt, the king and his few nobles took refuge in the Tower of London, alleged to be invulnerable to attack. And it probably would be, though any fortress is only as strong as its human defenders. While Richard and party were at Mile End negotiating with the rebels on day two, the troublemakers remaining in the city forced their way in and seized the Archbishop of Canterbury and Treasurer Hales, decapitating them in the process. How? No one knows, but since the Tower defenders were commoners, one can only assume they were persuaded to join the cause.

 Above: Tower of London, Watergate

After two days of rioting, the rebels finally agreed to meet King Richard at Smithfield, approached through Aldersgate. Just north of the city walls, Smithfield was an open space so large it would take about ten days for a yoke of oxen to plow it. Every August since the time of Henry I, the famous Bartholomew Fair was held there, bringing people from all over the country. Otherwise, Smithfield was most often used as a horse market, though sometimes it hosted sporting games, tournaments, and even executions. The Scottish rebel, William Wallace, was hanged, drawn, and quartered in this very spot, under the elms in the far northwest corner. This time it was the turn of Wat Tyler, who led his rowdy followers to Smithfield in an attempt to wrest more concessions from the king. Unfortunately for Wat, this would be the site of his untimely end, as well. And in the confusion, the rebels had nowhere to go but north toward Clerkenwell Fields, for the way out was blocked by the Roman wall to the south, the Fleet to the west, and the Priory of St. Bartholomew to the east. A brave and resilient King Richard led the way and the chastened rebels followed. Once they were brought under control, the Essex rebels scattered to the north, but the Kent contingent was led back through the city and over the London Bridge again; this time their behavior was impeccable (under pain of death).

By all accounts, a tremendous amount of damage was done to London during the Peasants’ Revolt, but of course it survived. One wonders why it didn’t go up in flames like the Great Fire of 1666, but perhaps the violence was directed more against people than structures?

A KING UNDER SIEGE by Mercedes Rochelle

Richard II found himself under siege not once, but twice in his minority. Crowned king at age ten, he was only fourteen when the Peasants’ Revolt terrorized London. But he proved himself every bit the Plantagenet successor, facing Wat Tyler and the rebels when all seemed lost. Alas, his triumph was short-lived, and for the next ten years he struggled to assert himself against his uncles and increasingly hostile nobles. Just like in the days of his great-grandfather Edward II, vengeful magnates strove to separate him from his friends and advisors, and even threatened to depose him if he refused to do their bidding. The Lords Appellant, as they came to be known, purged the royal household with the help of the Merciless Parliament. They murdered his closest allies, leaving the King alone and defenseless. He would never forget his humiliation at the hands of his subjects. Richard’s inability to protect his adherents would haunt him for the rest of his life, and he vowed that next time, retribution would be his.

BUY THE BOOK: https://books2read.com/u/brap6A

Get in touch with Mercedes :

Website: https://www.MercedesRochelle.com

Twitter: http://www.Twitter.com/authorRochelle

Facebook: facebook.com/MercedesRochelle.net

The post Richard II’s London by Mercedes Rochelle #blog #CoffeePotBookClub #HistoricalFiction first appeared on Deborah Swift.