MJ Porter

I’m excited to welcome Penny Ingham and her novel, Twelve Nights, to the blog #HistoricalMystery #MurderMystery #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub

I’m excited to welcome Penny Ingham and her novel, Twelve Nights, to the blog. I adored this book. Check out the excerpt below, and you can find my review at the bottom of the post.

Excerpt

Magdalen was beginning to wish she had crept back to Silver Street. Her world had turned upside down and she had no idea how to set it right again. She put her head in her hands, and her obvious distress cast an even greater pall over the gathering. At length, William Kempe’s bulbous eyes slid to the landlord.

‘Perhaps Francis murdered John? He’s best placed to slip something in his beer.’

They all turned to look at Francis Johnson. He was dunking dirty cups into a bucket of equally dirty water before slamming them back onto the board.

‘It’s possible,’ Burbage replied. ‘But I’ve never taken Johnson for a murderer. And what motive could he have?’

‘None that I can think of,’ Kempe admitted.

Magdalen remembered Richard Cowley’s rapier piercing John’s doublet. Could it have nicked John’s skin? If the tip was poisoned, could it have been enough to kill him? She looked up, into Richard’s eyes.

‘Poison is a woman’s weapon,’ he repeated, seeming to have read her mind. ‘A coward’s game. There’s no honour in it.’

‘When is there ever honour in murder?’ she shot back but Richard had already turned away, gesturing to a serving girl for more Mad Dog.

The shadows lengthened. The landlord lit the fire, the serving girls laid out soggy saffron cakes, and the players’ spirits began to lift, warmed by the crackling fire, and by wine and cakes and ale. And with every cup of Rhenish she drank, Magdalen’s spirits lifted a little too. The tavern was starting to fill up. Word spread fast through Shoreditch, and now all the poets and playwrights who had ever felt envious of Burbage’s lauded band of brothers were crawling out of the woodwork to gloat over their misfortune.

Christopher Marlowe arrived, and the tavern lit up as if the stars had fallen through the thatch. He greeted them all in turn, embracing some, kissing others on the lips. But he offered no kiss to Will. Instead, they simply shook hands like two fencers before a bout. It seemed fitting, for they were presently engaged in an increasingly spectacular play-writing dual, lobbing masterpieces at each other across the Thames. When Marlowe attacked with the gore-fest Tamburlaine, Will struck back with blood-soaked Titus Andronicus. Marlowe lunged with his study of a weak king, Edward the Second, so Will parried with Richard the Second. All of London was waiting to see how Will would respond to Marlowe’s The Jew of Malta.

‘William.’ Marlowe released Will’s hand, and moved on.

‘Christopher,’ Will replied and turned back to his beer.

Magdalen found their relationship hard to fathom, but hidden beneath the jealousy and rivalry, she often suspected a lurking mutual respect.

Stepping over Robert Greene, who had fallen asleep on the floor, Marlowe sat down beside her. ‘How now, Magdalen?’

She nodded absently. She had drunk a great deal of Rhenish, but she would never admit her inebriation, not even to Marlowe because it was not seemly. But he must have noticed her glazed expression because that familiar, half-smile was playing on his lips, as if he was enjoying his own private joke at the world’s expense. Although he was fast approaching thirty years of age, there was still a boyish charm to his features; the soft doe-eyes, the beard-less cheeks, the wisps of a moustache above full, generous lips.

‘I think you’ve had enough of this.’ He picked up her cup of Rhenish, and proceeded to drain it.

‘Hey!’ she exclaimed but it was a half-hearted protest, for her head was pounding like cannon fire.

‘You will have heard about the constable?’ she said quietly.

‘Edmund Stow is highly fed and lowly taught. Pay no heed to him,’ Marlowe replied airily.

‘But what if the Puritans bribe the coroner to convict me? We all know they are looking for an excuse to close us down.’

He shook his head. ‘I won’t let that happen.’

She wished she could believe him, but Marlowe was the most unreliable man on earth. He had recently fought in a brawl which had resulted in an inn-keeper’s death. Although it was his friend, Thomas Watson, who had struck the fatal blow, they were both hauled off to Newgate prison to await trial. Marlowe had been released a month later, miraculously without charge. Perhaps he really did believe he was invincible now. In the history books in Will’s room the ancient Greeks had called it hubris, and no good had ever come of it.

‘You look like Christmas, Magdalen.’

‘Christmas?’ she repeated, bemused.

‘Yes, your green kirtle, your red jacket.’ Marlowe broke into song, ‘the holly and the ivy, when they are both full grown.’ He had a beautiful baritone voice.

‘And you look -’ she eyed his tawny-orange doublet slashed to reveal yellow satin beneath; the wafer-soft, wide collar falling across his shoulders; the row of shiny buttons marching down his chest and belly. He had come into money recently, of that there was no doubt. ‘You look like a pageant, as always, Marlowe.’

‘Tawny is the colour of mourning, is it not?’ he asked with feigned innocence.

Magdalen laughed, but it made her head hurt.

‘You remind me of my sister,’ he said, suddenly serious.

‘I didn’t know you had a sister,’ she said, taken aback.

‘Her laugh sounded just like yours. There was something so joyous about it.’

Magdalen noticed he was using the past tense. ‘Is she -’ she began cautiously, but Marlowe spoke over her.

‘She was married at twelve years old, and she died in childbirth at the age of thirteen.’

Magdalen’s heart lurched with pity. ‘Oh! I am so sorry…’

He was staring into the distance now, his eyes full of bitterness and remembered grief. Marlowe was a man of bluster and bravado; his every word designed to shock or offend. She had known him for ten years and in all that time, she had never seen his defences down. But now, the window to his soul was open wide and the view was so unexpected and so intimate, she felt obliged to hastily avert her eyes.

When Marlowe spoke again, he no longer sounded sad but angry. ‘Answer me this. How can you have faith in God when he allowed my sister to die in agony?’

Here’s the blurb

1592. The Theatre, London.

When a player is murdered, suspicion falls on the wardrobe mistress, Magdalen Bisset, because everyone knows poison is a woman’s weapon. The coroner is convinced of her guilt. The scandal-pamphlets demonize her.

Magdalen is innocent, although few are willing to help her prove it. Only handsome Matthew Hilliard offers his assistance, but dare she trust him when nothing about him rings true?

With just two weeks until the inquest, Magdalen ignores anonymous threats to ‘leave it be’, and delves into the dangerous underworld of a city seething with religious and racial tension. As time runs out, she must risk everything in her search for the true killer – for all other roads lead to the gallows.

Buy Links:

This title is available to read on #KindleUnlimited.

Universal Link: https://books2read.com/u/bpYRlk

Meet the author

Penny has a degree in Classics, and a passion for archaeology – during the summer months, you will often find her on her a ‘dig’ with a trowel in her hand. She has had a variety of jobs over the years, including ice-cream seller, theatre PR, BBC local radio, and TV critic for a British Forces newspaper.

She has written four novels – ‘The King’s Daughter’ is the story of Aethelflaed, Lady of the Mercians. ‘The Saxon Wolves’ and ‘The Saxon Plague’ are set in the turbulent aftermath of Roman Britain. Her inspiration for Twelve Nights grew from her love of the theatre in general, and Shakespeare in particular.

Penny has two grown up children and lives with her husband in Hampshire.

Connect with the author

Penny Ingham (wordpress.com)

Penny Ingham (@pennyingham) / Twitter

Penny Ingham Author Page | Facebook

Penny Ingham (@penny.ingham) • Instagram photos and videos

Amazon.co.uk: Penny Ingham: Books, Biography, Blogs, Audiobooks, Kindle

Penny Ingham (Author of The Saxon Wolves) | Goodreads

Follow the Twelve Nights Blog Tour with The Coffee Pot Book Club

I read Twelve Nights last year and it was one of my Books of 2022, check out the review here.

On this day in history, the Battle of Winwæd in 655 between the Mercians and the Northumbrians

The Battle of Winwæd, fought on 15th November 655, is the backdrop for the final book in the Gods and Kings trilogy, which follows three very famous battles, Hædfeld in 632/3, Maserfield in 642 and Winwæd in 655, only one of the battles being fought in the summer – which always surprises me. These three pitched battles saw Mercia and Northumbria vying for supremacy over the Saxon kingdoms of Britain, a narrative that has been interpreted as leading to Northumbria’s triumph, and indeed, its Golden Age.

But much of what happened from Hæ∂feld to Winwæd was a matter of family politics, muddled by the many marriages these kings may have made, and the horde of children they fathered who had opinions and aspirations of their own. Just as the War of the Roses many centuries later, this was a time when family loyalty meant little or nothing to some people, and everything to others.

The Mercian king, Penda, most famously known for being a pagan when the Saxon kingdoms were being converted to Christianity, achieved a great deal throughout his lifetime, regardless of the debate about how long he reigned for and when he can officially be known as King of Mercia, and he is the constant throughout these three battles. The bias of Bede, our main source for this period (even though he wrote in the following century) and his famous list of bretwaldas (wide-rulers) ignores Penda. In doing so people cast their eyes only on events in Northumbria, seeing Penda in the same light as Bede would have us do, as a pagan who continually thwarted the advances of the Christian doctrine either from the north (Celtic Christianity) or the south (Roman Christianity). In fact, Penda could reasonably be said to have achieved far more than the Northumbrian kings, Edwin, Oswald or Oswiu ever did – the men he battled against at Hædfeld, Maserfeld and Winwæd. It’s a great pity that he met his death in the way he did, allowing Bede to skewer his narrative even further, to make Oswiu, the Christian, the victor over Penda the pagan.

History can be cruel.

Yet recent historians cast Penda in a more complimentary light. D.P. Kirby calls him ‘without question the most powerful Mercian ruler so far to have emerged in the Midlands.’ Frank Stenton has gone further, ‘the most formidable king in England.’ Whilst N J Higham accords him ‘a pre-eminent reputation as a god-protected, warrior king.’ These aren’t hastily given words from men who’ve studied Saxon England to a much greater degree than I have.

The wording of Bede is vague when detailing this third and final battle of Penda’s against the Northumbrians. Bede could speak directly when he wanted to, or so it seems, but for some events, he applied a little haze of Northumbrian drizzle to obscure the facts, but on the fact that more men died in the flood waters than on the battlefield, he is clear.

Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People

http://legacy.fordham.edu/halsall/basis/bede-book2.asp

CHAPTER XXIV
KING PENDA BEING SLAIN, THE MERCIANS RECEIVED THE FAITH OF CHRIST, AND OSWY GAVE POSSESSIONS AND TERRITORIES TO GOD, FOR BUILDING MONASTERIES, IN ACKNOWLEDGMENT FOR THE VICTORY OBTAINED. [A.D. 655.]
AT this time, King Oswy was exposed to the fierce and intolerable irruptions of Penda, king of the Mercians, whom we have so often mentioned, and who had slain his brother; …….After this he gave battle with a very small army against superior forces: indeed, it is reported that the pagans had three times the number of men; for they had thirty legions, led on by most noted commanders. King Oswy and his son Aifrid met them with a very small army, as has been said, but confiding in the conduct of Christ; his other son, Egfrid, was then kept an hostage at the court of Queen Cynwise, in the province of the Mercians. King Oswald’s son Etheiwald, who ought to have assisted them, was on the enemy’s side, and led them on to fight against his country and uncle; though, during the battle, he withdrew, and awaited the event in a place of safety. The engagement beginning, the pagans were defeated, the thirty commanders, and those who had come to his assistance were put to flight, and almost all of them slain; among whom was Ethelbere, brother and successor to Anna, king of the East Angles, who had been the occasion of the war, and who was now killed, with all his soldiers. The battle was fought near the river Vinwed, which then, with the great rains, had not only filled its channel, hut overflowed its banks, so that many more were drowned in the flight than destroyed by the sword.

This narrative is largely copied in the other surviving sources, all much later than the events they describe.

Historia Brittonum

http://legacy.fordham.edu/halsall/basis/nennius-full.asp

Penda, son of Pybba, reigned ten years; he first separated the kingdom of Mercia from that of the North-men, and slew by treachery Anna, king of the East Anglians, and St. Oswald, king of the North-men. He fought the battle of Cocboy, in which fell Eawa, son of Pybba, his brother, king of the Mercians, and Oswald, king of the North-men, and he gained the victory by diabolical agency. He was not baptized, and never believed in God.

The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle (first written from the late 890s).

A.D. 655. This year Penda was slain at Wingfield, and thirty royal personages with him, some of whom were kings. One of them was Ethelhere, brother of Anna, king of the East-Angles. The Mercians after this became Christians. From the beginning of the world had now elapsed five thousand eight hundred and fifty winters, when Paeda, the son of Penda, assumed the government of the Mercians.

You can read ‘my’ interpretation of the Battle of Winwæd in Warrior King, and you can also allow the fabulous Matt Coles to narrate it for you. Check out The Gods and Kings Trilogy page for more information.

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I thought I’d share some of my frustrations with writing about the lives of the ‘lost women’ of the tenth century.

The Tenth Century in Saxon England is often seen as heralding the triumph of Wessex to form England and to drive the Viking raiders far from England’s shores. That is both right and wrong, but it does mean that the names of the kings of the House of Wessex are well-known (comparatively speaking). The same can’t be said for the women who were wives, daughters and mothers of these kings. We can debate why this is but it doesn’t solve the problem of who these women were. For some of them, we don’t even know their names. We don’t know the name of King Athelstan’s mother, which astounds me. Equally, some of his half-sisters are quickly ‘lost’ in Continental Europe. Much of this is because they didn’t create huge dynasties to revere them after their death (apart from perhaps Eadgyth, who married Otto of the East Franks and whose sudden death deeply affected her husband). Of course, this problem is also compounded by the few surviving contemporary records.

Even those sources which do survive are not easy to access. Language barriers are a huge problem. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles have been studied and translated into easily accessible volumes, but alas, only Ealhswith, wife of King Alfred, Æthelflæd of Mercia, her daughter Ælfwynn, and two unnamed sisters of Athelstan are actually mentioned in the ASC. We can find more names in Æthelweard’s Latin translation of the ASC known as the Chronicon but it is still not an exhaustive list of his own relatives. Æthelweard claimed descent from King Alfred’s brother, Æthelred I.

This situation doesn’t just apply to the tenth-century. The online resource, The Prosopography of Anglo-Saxon England (PASE), has a database of 33,981 male names listed for the entire period of Saxon England. Only 1460 female names are listed. As such, we know much more about the male members of Saxon England, than we do the females.

And, these women have received very little study. While there are academic books about the much better known eleventh-century queens, Emma of Normandy and Edith, the wife of Edward the Confessor, it’s not been possible to pick up a single title and learn about these lost women, aside from Elizabeth Norton’s monograph on Lady Elfrdia.

To begin with, I wished to fictionalise the life of Lady Elfrida, wife of King Edgar, thanks to the work by Elizabeth Norton. I then turned my mind to other women of the tenth century and, indeed, even to Lady Estrid, the sister of King Cnut. Time and again, I found that so little information had survived, the majority of it only a reference in relation to male members of the family, that much of their lives had to be reconstructed based on what is documented as happening at the time. There was certainly no tangible way to connect with these women, other than a possible surviving piece of embroidery which might have been stitched by King Edward the Elder’s second wife, and if not by her hand, then at her command, and which was found inside the tomb of St Cuthbert when it was opened in the early nineteenth century (1827).

I can’t help feeling this is how Æthelweard felt when he wrote his Chronicon. The passage of time has not made it any easier to uncover the names of the women, let alone their personalities.

https://amzn.to/421prHt

I have now written a non-fiction account of this period, and it is now available from Pen and Sword books – The Royal Women Who Made England. I hope, alongside the fictionalised accounts of their lives, that this will inspire more interest in them.

The Royal Women Who Made England cover image.

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Today, I’m delighted to welcome NL Holmes and her new book, The Moon That Fell From Heaven to the blog #Hittites #WomenProtagonists #PoliticalIntrigue #HistoricalFiction #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub

Welcome to the blog. Can you tell me about your new novel.

Although much of it was done a long time ago, when I began teaching a course that involved a cultural and historical look at Ugarit, tackling a series of books set in an obscure city state in the Late Bronze Age did require some academic snooping. Times and places about which we know relatively little are a mixed blessing: one always wishes one had more clues to hang fiction upon, but in those gaps where we know nothing, plausible imagination is OK for the novelist. Still, I didn’t want to contradict anything we knew for sure to be true, so there was a lot to learn. I bought a lot of books.

To me, a person with a soft spot for words, one of the most interesting things I began to find out about was the literary tradition of Ugarit. Fortunately for us—and unfortunately for the inhabitants of the city in about 1190 BCE, when the city fell never to rise again—Ugarit was put to the torch, baking and preserving the clay tablets upon which information was recorded. A whole private library of texts was among the tablets discovered, opening to modern scholars a wonderful new world of mythological epic.

The author of some of the most complete of these was a certain scribe named Ili-milku, born in the near-by kingdom of Shiyannu. He eventually held the post of chief scribe of Ugarit but evidently still had time to write. It’s likely that, rather than composing the Cycle from scratch, he compiled and wrote down a definitive edition of a slew of tales that had been recited orally for a long time, much like Homer. He is the third point-of-view character in The Moon That Fell from Heaven. More about him in a moment.

Since their discovery in the 1930s, we have been exposed to Ugaritic narratives about Kirta, a Job-like figure of patience in suffering. About Aqhat, the long-prayed-for son of a childless couple. About Ba’al, the storm god, and various lesser divine figures like the Gracious Gods or Horon. Biblical scholars immediately noticed not only themes similar to those of the Hebrew Bible, but also literary forms that occur in the Bible. This shouldn’t surprise us, as the entire world of the eastern Mediterranean, which we may generalize as Canaanite, shared a closely related culture and languages. The Ugaritic high god Ilu, for example, is the same as El and means simply “god.” Ba’al is “the lord,” the rider of the clouds. But the gods of Ugarit were not omnipotent, by any means. They were closely associated with the phenomena of nature, and like nature, they did a lot of dying and resurrecting. Other parallels—with the Greek world—are striking too. Anat the Maiden is a virgin warrior goddess like Athena, for example. The Bronze Age was a world of global interconnection!

When the fictional Ili-milku is held hostage, he finds himself forced to critique endless poems his captor has written. This activity is possible because scholars have worked out that all the mythological stories that have come down to us from Ugarit are actually in verse. Their idea of poetry—like that of the Biblical authors—didn’t require rhyme or even meter. It was free verse, you might say. But it used very definite patterns of language, repetitions, build-ups, parallels. In short, it was constructed pretty much the same way modern Near Eastern poetry is, an interesting continuity of more than 3000 years.

How were these poetic narratives used? Some seem as if they might have been liturgical drama, with choral parts. Others were perhaps sung or chanted in temples or even around the campfire. Unfortunately, there’s no way to know until someone finds some stage directions. But even so, they shed a lot of light on how the people of Ugarit viewed their world, what they valued, how their society was structured. I’m glad to have studied them, because they bring a whole population closer and make them more human. I hope I’ve accomplished a little of that myself by turning a bit of their human drama into fiction.

Thank you for for sharing. Good luck with the new book.

Here’s the blurb

Ehli-nikkalu, eldest daughter of the Hittite emperor, is married to a mere vassal of her father’s. But despite her status, her foreignness and inability to produce an heir drive a wedge between her and the court that surrounds her. When her secretary is mysteriously murdered while carrying the emperor a message that would indict the loyalty of his vassal, Ehli-nikkalu adopts the dead man’s orphaned children out of a guilty sense of responsibility.

A young cousin she has never met becomes a pretender to the throne and mobilizes roving armies of the poor and dispossessed, which causes the priority of her loyalties to become even more suspect. However, Ehli-nikkalu discovers a terrible secret that could destabilize the present regime if the pretender ever learns of it.

With the help of a kindly scribe, her brave young ward, and an embittered former soldier trapped in debt and self-doubt, Ehli-nikkalu sets out to save the kingdom and prove herself to her father. And along the way, she learns something about love.

Buy Links:

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Meet the author

N.L. Holmes is the pen name of a professional archaeologist who received her doctorate from Bryn Mawr College. She has excavated in Greece and in Israel and taught ancient history and humanities at the university level for many years. She has always had a passion for books, and in childhood, she and her cousin used to write stories for fun.

These days she lives in France with her husband, two cats, geese, and chickens, where she gardens, weaves, dances, and plays the violin

Connect with N L Holmes

Website: Twitter: Facebook: LinkedIn: Instagram:

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Follow the The Moon That Fell From Heaven blog tour with The Coffee Pot Book Club

I’m taking part in the fabulous cover reveal for Clickbait by L.C.North #coverreveal

Here’s the blurb

‘We’re not famous anymore. We’re notorious.’

For over a decade, the Lancasters were celebrity royalty, with millions tuning in every week to watch their reality show, Living with the Lancasters.

But then an old video emerges of one of their legendary parties. Suddenly, they’re in the spotlight for all the wrong reasons: witnesses swore they’d seen missing teenager Bradley Wilcox leaving the Lancaster family home on the night of the party, but the video tells a different story

Now true crime investigator and YouTuber Tom Isaac is on the case. He’s determined to find out what really happened to Bradley – he just needs to read between the Lancasters’ lies . . .

Because when the cameras are always rolling, it won’t be long until someone cracks.

_

For fans of Murder in the Family and The Club, Clickbait is told through mixed media, from video transcripts to diary entries, capturing a unique and addictive commentary on ruthless ambition and the dark side of fame.

Pre-order Link – https://linktr.ee/clickbaitbook

Publication Date: 11^th April 2024

Meet the author

L.C. North studied psychology at university before pursuing a career in Public Relations. Her first book club thriller – The Ugly Truth – combines her love of psychology and her fascination with the celebrities in the public eye. Her second novel, Clickbait, delves into the world of reality TV and the dichotomy between real and fake. When she’s not writing, she co-hosts the crime thriller podcast, In Suspense. L.C. North lives on the Suffolk borders with her family and also writes psychological suspense novels under the name of Lauren North. Readers can follow her on Twitter and Instagram as @Lauren_C_North, and Facebook as @LaurenNorthAuthor

Connect with LC North

Twitter and Instagram: @Lauren_C_North

https://twitter.com/Lauren_C_North

https://www.instagram.com/lauren_c_north/

Bluesky: @laurennorthauthor.bsky.social

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LaurenNorthAuthor

I’m delighted to welcome Heidi Eljarbo and her new book The Warmth of Snow to the blog ChristmasRomance #SweetRomance #RegencyRomance #BlogTour #TheCoffeePotBookClub

Here’s a snippet

She flung the long-strapped bag on her back and helped the stableboy saddle the gray horse. Soon, she was on her way to town. The first seven cards were meant for elderly widows, gentle women Erica visited from time to time. Most of them had known her mother, and Erica gladly sat and listened to these women repeat their memories of how her sweet mother had spent time with them.

The last cottage she visited belonged to her elderly friend Ingela.

“I have one card left,” Erica said.

“Say, why don’t you ride to Castle Linborg? I heard the count returned from soldiering a while back. He used to be out and about all the time, talking to people and helping them settle disputes. He even showed up unannounced if someone was in need. But since he returned from war down in Europe, hardly anyone has seen him. His reputation as a fair and good nobleman has dwindled since he’s been away from the public eye. Now, rumors say he keeps to himself and has become both grumpy and of little use to people in our area.”

Castle Linborg? Twice Erica had received advice to go there. Although she had considered going there to spite Aunt Brita, here was the same suggestion from dear, old Ingela. The woman had been more family to her than the foursome at Holst Manor had ever been. Erica pulled the inkbottle and quill out of her bag and placed them next to the last card on the table.

“I’ll go see him then.”

“Do you dare? Will you knock on the door of an aristocrat who has the power to make your life miserable if things don’t go his way.”

Erica smiled back. “You just said the count used to be fair and good. My guess is that he still is… And although perhaps these traits are now hidden, there must be a reason for it.” She wrote his name on the back of the last card.

Count August Brandell of Linborg.

Why not try?

Here’s the blurb

There must be a way to thaw a heart long frozen. Can she help him, or does he have other plans?

Sweden 1810.
August Brandell, the count of Linborg, has returned home after four years of war against the French Empire under the direction of Napoléon Bonaparte. Wounded and downtrodden, he is a meager shadow of the man he used to be.
One day, a lovely young woman comes calling. She’s strong and bright and, unlike the rest, seems unaffected by his wealth and unfortunate disability. He soon discovers he wants more than a sweet friendship, but a life of caring for him would not be fair to such a beautiful soul. Oh, how dearly, deeply he loves her and secretly wants her to stay, but he cannot and will not ask such a sacrifice from her…especially not when it’s out of pity for him.

Erica Gustava Ebbesdotter has primarily been left to herself since she was orphaned at an early age. Although grateful to her aunt and uncle for taking her in, they pay her no attention and even keep her in the dark about her parents.
Hearing about Count Brandell’s unfortunate fate on the battlefield, she knocks on the door at Castle Linborg to leave him a card of encouragement.
Meeting Count Brandell changes Erica’s entire world. Falling for him is utterly unexpected. Soon, he fills her heart, but he is far above her station. How can a man like him see beyond her less refined clothes and past? Worst of all, he is already betrothed.

This is a sweet and wholesome historical romance—a hauntingly beautiful tale of two hearts meant to be together.

Buy Links:

This title is available to read with #KindleUnlimited.

Universal Link:

Meet the author

HEIDI ELJARBO grew up in a home full of books, artwork, and happy creativity. She is the author of award-winning historical novels filled with courage, hope, mystery, adventure, and sweet romance in the midst of challenging times. She’s been named a master of dual timelines and often writes about strong-willed women of past centuries.

After living in Canada, six US states, Japan, Switzerland, and Austria, Heidi now calls Norway home. She lives with her husband on a charming island and enjoys walking their Wheaten Terrier in any kind of weather, hugging her grandchildren, and has a passion for art and history.

Her family’s chosen retreat is a mountain cabin, where they hike in the summer and ski the vast white terrain during winter.

Heidi’s favorites are her family, God’s beautiful nature, and the word whimsical.

Connect with the author

Website: Twitter:

Facebook: Instagram: Pinterest:

Book Bub: Amazon Author Page: Goodreads:

Follow The Warmth of Snow blog tour with The Coffee Pot Book Club

I’m delighted to welcome Anna Belfrage to the blog with a guest post about her new book, Times of Turmoil #AmericanColonialHistory #timetravel #historicalfiction #historicalromance

I’m delighted to welcome Anna Belfrage to the blog with a post about her main characters.

When loving came with severe restrictions – of anti-miscegenation laws in Colonial America

In 1967, the Supreme Court of the United States unanimously concluded that state laws forbidding interracial relations were in breach of the 14^th amendment to the Constitution. Mildred and Richard Loving no longer needed to worry they’d be fined or incarcerated for loving each other. 1967. Not that long ago, is it?

Anti-miscegenation laws were adopted by several of the British American Colonies. First in Maryland, then in Virginia, and subsequently in several others. The laws were harsh and had as their purpose to ensure the races were kept “separate”—well, beyond the obvious intermingling that occurred when a white slave owner decided to sleep with his black slave. Not that much of a problem according to the legislators, as any child born to a slave was automatically defined as a slave. Initially, the laws forbade marriage between a white person and an enslaved or indentured person of colour – probably because this would cause confusion as to the legal status of the unfree person and encroach on the property rights of said unfree person’s “owner”. Over time, the laws were expanded to include any person of colour, free or not. In some states, the laws were extremely detailed, forbidding not only relations between white and black, white and coloured, but also between black and Native American.

Obviously, these laws reflect the biases of a slave-based economy. If, on the one hand, you were arguing that people of colour were less equal than a white person—so much less equal, in fact, that it was perfectly okay to enslave them—it would be difficult to, on the other hand, welcome a person of colour as your equal in the salons of society. Not even a free person of colour could/should be treated as an equal. Yes, they were no longer slaves, but they were definitely “lesser”.

I had never fully immersed myself in researching this dark side of history until I ended up with a woman of colour as my protagonist. Initially, I didn’t even reflect on the fact that Erin Barnes was of mixed race. Yes, I’d given her a half Afghani, half British grandmother, and yes, said lady was very much in love with her black US Army veteran, but I found that aspect of Erin relatively unimportant. I was far more interested in her pursuit of justice for her murdered grandmother and her determination to use all her investigative skills to achieve this, despite the obvious risks to herself.

“You did not notice how beautiful she is?” Duncan asks, sounding shocked. “You didn’t see that her skin is like molten syrup, her hair a cloud of darkest gold?”
Umm . . . No, I didn’t. Not really. And obviously, Duncan is biased—he has been since he first saw Erin.

Frankly, it wasn’t until Duncan and Erin ended up in 1715 that it struck me just how difficult life would be for her in this new time. Duncan, of course, immediately realised this, and did what he could to protect her—namely marry her. Fortunately for him, at the time they were in London, where there were no legal prohibitions to wedding someone of a different colour. There were, however, societal reservations, but Duncan didn’t much care.

After a sequence of adventures, my couple returned to Maryland—briefly. Soon enough, Duncan realised that even with the protection of his name and wealth—and that of his powerful friends—Annapolis would never tolerate this union between a white man and a woman of colour. So they moved north, to Pennsylvania.

What exactly was a white man risking by marrying a woman of colour? Well, if a white man had sexual relations with a free woman of colour (note that it was okay for a slave owner to have sexual relations with an enslaved woman of colour) and chose to live with her, they could both be indentured for decades. Should he be foolish enough to marry her, indentureship converted to enslavement—for both of them. And not necessarily together.

Despite these frightening consequences, there are documented cases of people still choosing to marry the person they loved, no matter the colour of their skin. In one of the more well-known cases, an Irish girl named Nell Butler fell in love with and married a black slave, known only as Negro Charles. She thereby became the property of her hubby’s owner, as did all their future children.

As made obvious already in the opening paragraph, anti-miscegenation laws were to remain in existence in many of the US states well into the twentieth century. And throughout all those years of prohibition, as regular as clockwork, cases would crop up where people loved so hard they were willing to face the consequences. It if wasn’t so very, very sad, it would almost be romantic.

Moving Erin and Duncan to Pennsylvania only bought them a few years of grace: in 1725 the colony of Pennsylvania pushed through their own anti-miscegenation laws. My imaginary couple must now find a new home, but sadly I suspect that wherever they go in the early 18^th century they will be met by gasps and avid curiosity. A woman of colour—no matter how beautiful—did not belong with a successful white man. Not, at least, as his wife.

“Pah!” Duncan says, drawing Erin close enough to give her a resounding kiss. “What do I care what others think?”

It is not quite as easy for Erin to be dismissive of the opprobrium she so often faces. But she tries, putting on a brave face while swallowing whispered insults and insinuations. But now and then, the independent, modern Erin just can’t hold back—which at times leads to very, very difficult situations!

Thank you for sharing such an interesting post. I imagine your characters have a few tough moments to survive.

Here’s the blurb:

It is 1718 and Duncan Melville and his time traveller wife, Erin, are concentrating on building a peaceful existence for themselves and their twin daughters. Difficult to do, when they are beleaguered by enemies.

Erin Melville is not about to stand to the side and watch as a child is abused—which is how she makes deadly enemies of Hyland Nelson and his family.

Then there’s that ghost from their past, Armand Joseph Chardon, a person they were certain was dead. Apparently not. Monsieur Chardon wants revenge and his sons are tasked with making Duncan—and his wife—pay.

Things aren’t helped by the arrival of Duncan’s cousin, fleeing her abusive husband. Or the reappearance of Nicholas Farrell in their lives, as much of a warped bully now as he was when he almost beat Duncan to death years ago. Plus, their safety is constantly threatened as Erin is a woman of colour in a time and place where that could mean ostracism, enslavement or even death.

Will Duncan and Erin ever achieve their simple wish – to live and love free from fear of those who wish to destroy them?

Buy Links:

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Meet the author

Had Anna been allowed to choose, she’d have become a time-traveller. As this was impossible, she became a financial professional with two absorbing interests: history and writing. Anna has authored the acclaimed time travelling series The Graham Saga, set in 17th century Scotland and Maryland, as well as the equally acclaimed medieval series The King’s Greatest Enemy which is set in 14th century England.

Anna has also published The Wanderer, a fast-paced contemporary romantic suspense trilogy with paranormal and time-slip ingredients.

More recently, Anna has been hard at work with her Castilian series. The first book, His Castilian Hawk, published in 2020, is set against the complications of Edward I’s invasion of Wales, His Castilian Hawk is a story of loyalty, integrity—and love. In the second instalment, The Castilian Pomegranate, we travel with the protagonists to the complex political world of medieval Spain, while the third, Her Castilian Heart, finds our protagonists back in England—not necessarily any safer than the wilds of Spain! The fourth book, Their Castilian Orphan, is scheduled for early 2024.

Anna has recently released Times of Turmoil, the sequel to her 2021 release, The Whirlpools of Time. Here she returns to the world of time travel. Where The Whirlpools of Time had Duncan and the somewhat reluctant time-traveller Erin navigating the complexities of the first Jacobean rebellion in Scotland, in Times of Turmoil our protagonists are in Colonial Pennsylvania, hoping for a peaceful existence. Not about to happen—not in one of Anna’s books!

All of Anna’s books have been awarded the IndieBRAG Medallion, she has several Historical Novel Society Editor’s Choices, and one of her books won the HNS Indie Award in 2015. She is also the proud recipient of various Reader’s Favorite medals as well as having won various Gold, Silver and Bronze Coffee Pot Book Club awards.

Find out more about Anna, her books and enjoy her eclectic historical blog on her website, www.annabelfrage.com

Connect with the author

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Amazon Author Page: or http://amazon.com/author/anna_belfrage

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Follow the Times of Turmoil blog tour with The Coffee Pot Book Club

I’m reading the beginning of A Conspiracy of Kings #LadyÆlfwynn

I’m reading the beginning from A Conspiracy of Kings. Hopefully, you’ll enjoy listening below. Just click on the image. This does contain spoilers if you’ve not yet read book 1, The Lady of Mercia’s Daughter.

Find out who the historical Ælfwynn was here.

Buy A Conspiracy of Kings here.

(Also available with Kindle Unlimited.)

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Who was the Lady of Mercia, Æthelflæd? #non-fiction #Mercia

Who was Lady Æthelflæd, and what do we know about her from the contemporary sources?

Æthelflæd,^[i] said to be the oldest of the children of King Alfred, and his wife, Lady Eahlswith, was born around 866, the exact details are unknown, although the date of her death is well attested as 12 June 918.^[ii]

She was married to Lord Æthelred of the Mercians at some point during the 880s, although an exact date cannot be given. The first mention of this union occurs in a charter dated to 887,^[iii] although the date may not be reliable. There is also little information about who Lord Æthelred might have been, and his subsequent military successes should not be dismissed, as they often are. Lord Æthelred is assumed to have been a nobleman from Mercia, and one with enough of a reputation to secure the marriage alliance with the Wessex royal family (and it must be assumed, unrelated to her mother’s birth family, and also her father’s family through his sister’s union to Burgred).

Their marriage was a success, and yet there was only one child, a daughter, Ælfwynn, born to the union, perhaps quite soon after the marriage occurred.

During her lifetime, Æthelflæd’s name appears on fifteen surviving charters. These are a real collection, some promulgated by her father, her brother, her husband and then, in her name alone. The earliest to feature her name is S223 dated to 884×9, so between 884 and 889, which survives in two manuscripts, and discussed the building of the burh at Worcester. In her final charters, she’s the sole promulgator, her husband no doubt having already died. It is believed he died in 911. S224 and S225 date to 914 and 915. S225 names Æthelflæd as the ruler of Mercia, something which The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle mirrors in some versions.

In 912, the C text records, ‘Here, on the eve of the Invention of the Holy Cross, Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians came to Scergeat and built a stronghold there, and the same year, that at Bridgnorth.’^[xxvii]

In 913, the C text further records, ‘Here, God helping, Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians, went with all the Mercians to Tamworth, and then built the stronghold there early in the summer, and afterwards before Lammas that at Stafford.’^[xxviii]

In 917, the C text writes, ‘Here, before Lammas, God helping, Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians took possession of the stronghold which is called Derby, together with all that belonged to it.’^[xxxi]

Æthelflæd’s death is recorded in the A and C editions of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and also in the E version of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, even if only in passing. ‘Here Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians, passed away.’^[xxxii]

A text states: ‘and then when he (Edward) was settled in the seat there, his sister Æthelflæd at Tamworth, died 12 days before midsummer … and all the nation of the land of Mercia which was earlier subject to Æthelflæd turned to him.’

The C text of 918 offers:

Here in the early part of this year, with God’s help, she [Æthelflæd] peaceably got in her control the stronghold at Leicester and the most part of the raiding-armies that belonged to it were subjected. And also the York-folk had promised her – and some of them granted so by pledge, some confirmed with oaths – that they would be at her disposition. But very quickly after they had done that, she departed, twelve days before midsummer, inside Tamworth, the eighth year that she held control of Mercia, with rightful lordship; and her body lies inside Gloucester in the east side-chapel of St Peter’s Church.^[xxxiii]

It seems highly probable that Æthelflæd’s death, when it came, was unexpected, occurring in the middle of an advance into the Danelaw and the Five Boroughs (Derby, Nottingham, Lincoln, Stamford, Leicester). It was left to her daughter, and also her brother, to continue her work, and you can read their story in The Lady of Mercia’s Daughter and A Conspiracy of Kings.

Or you can read about the historical women in my non-fiction title, The Royal Women Who Made England.

You can can read all about her daughter, the historical Ælfwynn here.

https://amzn.to/3JnZoDC

^[i] PASE Æthelflæd (4)

^[ii] Swanton, M. ed. and trans. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles, (Orion Publishing Group, 2000), AD 918

^[iii] S217, surviving in two manuscripts

^[xviii] Baker, N. and Holt, R. ‘The city of Worcester in the tenth century’, in St Oswald of Worcester: Life and InfluenceBrooks, N. and Cubitt, C. ed, (Leicester University Press, 1996), pp.134–5

^[xix] Sawyer, P.H. (ed.), Anglo-Saxon charters: An annotated list and bibliography, rev. Kelly, S.E., Rushforth, R., (2022). http://www.esawyer.org.uk/, S1446

^[xxi] Sawyer, P.H. (ed.), Anglo-Saxon charters: An annotated list and bibliography, rev. Kelly, S.E., Rushforth, R., (2022). http://www.esawyer.org.uk/, S1282

^[xxii] Hart, C.R. The Early Charters of Northern England and the North Midlands (Leicester University Press, 1975), p.102 (100)

^[xxvi] Swanton, M. ed. and trans. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles, (Orion Publishing Group, 2000) Ibid., p.94

^[xxvii] Ibid., p.96

^[xxviii] Ibid., p.96

^[xxix] Ibid., p.97

^[xxx] Ibid., p.100

^[xxxi] Ibid., p.101

^[xxxii] Ibid., p.103

^[xxxiii] Ibid., p.105

^[xxxv] See Stafford, P. After Alfred. Anglo-Saxon Chronicles and Chroniclers 900–1150, (Oxford University Press, 2020), for a full discussion of the Æthelflæd and Edward Chronicles.

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#TheLastKing, the first book in The Mercian Ninth Century, #excerpt

Here’s the blurb

They sent three hundred warriors to kill one man. It wasn’t enough.

Mercia lies broken but not beaten, her alliance with Wessex in tatters. Coelwulf, a fierce and bloody warrior, hears whispers that Mercia has been betrayed from his home in the west. He fears no man, especially not the Vikings sent to hunt him down.

To discover the truth of the rumours he hears, Coelwulf must travel to the heart of Mercia, and what he finds there will determine the fate of Mercia, as well as his own.

Here’s an excerpt

AD874

I taste it on my lips, and over the salt of my sweat.

And I scowl. It’s not a flavour I wish to get used to. All the same, I know what it is without a second thought.

My seax glistens slickly in the dull light, the gleaming claret reminding me more of an exotic wine from the south than the lifeblood it truly is. The double headed-eagle impeccably depicted on the handle seems to wink at me, as the eyes fill with the ruby mixture.

Not that I focus on it for more than the time it takes me to blink.

This horde feels as though it’ll never stop, and I’m determined to end the lives of as many of them as possible. Such slaughter doesn’t bring me joy, but this is my skill. I wield it because I must.

My weapon, so sharp it cuts through byrnies as though they’re no more than spider webs, is busy today.

They come against my force, as small as it is, and they mean to annihilate us. But we will not go without making our sacrifices to their god of war.

My seax sweeps effortlessly along the abruptly exposed throat of my enemy, the realisation of what’s befallen him only reaching his eyes as he falls to the ground. I step over him, already sighting my next enemy.

This one swirls an axe in his left hand, as I reveal my bloodied teeth. His entire body recoils, almost a backward step. Before he can consider his move, I’ve sliced through his belly, the gut threatening to spill at my feet. I dismiss him and move onto the next man.

The ground beneath my feet squelches with each step, slick, more like a flooded river than the solid ground it should be.

It’s awash with the dead and wounded, the long shield wall that tried to defeat us long since disintegrated to small spots of desperate one to one fighting. This is my favourite part of any battle.

I turn, noting the angle of the sun, the brush of the breeze against my slick body, breathing deeply through my nose. This is not my first battle. Far from it.

I hear the cries of those boys who thought themselves men, and equally of those men who’ve found they are but boys when their lives are threatened.

I scorn them. They’re not worthy of my attention.

Quickly, I reach for my weapons belt, keen to know that all is where it should be. My hand brushes over the sharpened edges and deadly blades that make a home there. For now.

Satisfied, I pick my next target, a tight knot of men fighting not five steps away, and move forward.

I don’t hurry. Not this time. Neither, as I’ve seen others do, do I check the weight of my weapon, or test the strength of my arm as I consider my next move. Instinctively I know that all is well.

They’ll not fail me. They haven’t before.

If you’ve not yet discovered The Mercian Kingdom: The Ninth Century series, then you’ve in for a treat, as long as you’re not easily offended by foul language and violence – and if you are, there are Cleaner versions available on Amazon Kindle.

If you’ve been reading the Icel books, then you will find a friend in this series, set in the 870s in a Mercia under assault by the Viking raiders.