Author of Saxon historical fiction and non-fiction, 20th-century historical mysteries, and Norse-inspired historical romantasy. Book reviewer and blog host.
I’m delighted to welcome Lily Style and her new book, A Most Unsettled Man, to the blog with an excerpt.
Excerpt
On the 6th of November 1805, the ring of church bells, near and far, grew and grew like a storm that must soon break. Then did.
George’s copy of the Gazette Extraordinaire bore news that rocked his whole family to the core. Britain’s navy had annihilated the French and Spanish fleets at Cape Trafalgar, off the southern tip of Spain, but Horace’s resounding victory had cost him his life.
Kitty collapsed and, after this, George junior noted that the news of Horace’s death had made his mama very ill.
Details of Horace’s last moments flew around England with great gusto. Brave Lord Nelson had ignored the tradition by which naval officers saved their skins by leading from behind. He’d instead insisted on wearing his full Royal Navy admiral’s uniform on HMS Victory’s open deck, complete with his array of medals and sun-catching gewgaws. Bold and bright, leading from the front, Horace’s uniform had made him an easy mark for a sniper perched on a French tall ship’s mast.
George later reflected that, from Horace’s physical frailty and proneness to melancholy, “it might have been imagined that he was ill-fitted for war & hardship. But … He went a willing victim to his country’s safety and renown”.
George, Kitty and Susanna Bolton, distraught themselves, sped to Merton to support the heart-broken Emma.
Blurb
George Matcham, dubbed the most unsettled man alive, was born in East India Company controlled Bombay and undertook three epic overland treks between Asia and England before marrying the favourite sister of the not yet famous Horatio Nelson. Intimate details about George’s life have been preserved because of his close relationship with Nelson and his famous paramour Emma Hamilton, whose rises and falls he observed first-hand.
Packed with period press clippings and eyewitness accounts, A Most Unsettled Man provides an unprecedented glimpse into the private life of a modest 18th century English gentleman, as well retelling the enduring love story of Nelson and Emma from an entirely new perspective.
Lily Style is the direct descendant of famed lovers Admiral Lord Nelson and Emma Hamilton and also Nelson’s sister, Kitty Matcham (because their grandchildren married).
Lily is the founder of Emma Hamilton Society and writes regularly for Nelson-related publications. She is also a keen genealogist with an interest in piecing together real human stories lying behind dry facts.
One of these stories is of her 4th great-grandfather, George Matcham, whose story she’s traced from his mid eighteenth-century birth in East India Company controlled Bombay through to his intimate involvement with Nelson and Emma’s rise and fall.
When I decided to write another book featuring Detective Inspector Mason and his Sergeant, O’Rourke, I was determined to set the story very firmly in the period. That might sound a bit strange, but sometimes, a historical mystery might not feel that historical other than for the odd touches – clothing, hairstyles etc. To ensure I didn’t do this, I spent a great deal of time researching the history of The Automobile Association (a UK-based roadside recovery service with a history as long as automobiles) and how they might have operated in the early 1940s. Of course, with the war on and petrol rationing, it was very challenging for them to survive as they relied on subscriptions which dropped significantly during the war years.
The AA Sentry boxes
I spent a great deal of time trying to find the locations for the sentry boxes that are so important to my story and that the AA patrol staff would have passed on their assigned patrol routes, often on pedal bikes. Yes, they did have telephones in the boxes, but of course, the patrol men wouldn’t have had access to a telephone while they were out patrolling, and if I’ve read it correctly, all calls were sent to a central exchange which was in London. There’s a list of surviving sentry boxes from the 1960s, so twenty years after my story is set, and with the use of a map from the 1940s (thank you online marketplace), I found many of the sentry boxes close to Erdington. This was because some of today’s roads weren’t built (such as many of the A roads), and using a period map ensured I didn’t put something where it couldn’t have existed. I love using old maps for all of my books (20th-century and Saxon stories). They often highlight facts that might pass today’s reader by – such as roads that have changed route or weren’t even in existence at the time.
I was a bit disappointed because I couldn’t find a map that showed the patrol routes that the AA patrolmen (sorry, it was all men at this time) would have followed on their daily routes. This is potentially because such maps were either not produced or, because of the war effort, they weren’t widely distributed. Here’s a fabulous training video for those wanting to see what the early AA was all about. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kmyLKlx7YEA
Some ration books I was able to buy from an online marketplace, and the maps I also found and usedMy additions to a period map to show where the AA sentry boxes would have been in the 1960s
I also needed clarification on how far a car might have travelled on one full petrol tank. Sometimes it’s the oddest queries that set authors tumbling down rabbit holes of research.
The history of fingerprinting is much longer than we might think
But the roads weren’t the only thing I needed to research. Much of the case in The Automobile Assassination hinges on fingerprints (how else to identify my nameless murder victim?), and I knew nothing about the technological advances that had made fingerprint identification as prevalent as it is today. I invested some time in researching and discovered some amazing facts, some that were quite disturbing during the advances in fingerprinting and the way the information they use is provided. I also, quite by chance, discovered when the first fax machine was invented, which was much earlier than we might think.
And that then took me to another element of the book that I needed to research, ration books. Again, the advantage of writing about the 1940s is that artefacts survive from the period. I was able to get hold of some ration books (thank you, online marketplace again) so that I could work out how they were distributed and used and how I could make what was happening seem ‘very real.’ What surprised me was that the coupons themselves didn’t have numbers (and certainly not bar codes), although each book had a serial number stamped on its front. I discovered the system would be particularly easy to ‘fudge’ if you inclined that way. And there were huge scandals regarding ration books during the 1940s. As with the AA sentry boxes, I was determined to weave these elements into the storyline.
Newspaper archives are a gold mine
The more I write stories set in the twentieth century, the more resources I find to help me. I made a great deal of use of the online newspaper archives – and hidden, often on the front or the back page, were all the times that the Blackout was in operation each night. This was an excellent little detail to weave into the narrative to make it seem more historically accurate.
When a pantomime turns deadly, Iris investigates a cast of killers…
Christmas, 1923. When reporter Iris Woodmore is sent to cover the Prince of Wales’ visit to historic Winchester, she discovers more than just royal gossip.
The leading lady in Winchester Cathedral’s charity pantomime is found dead in mysterious circumstances. And the chief suspect is Cinderella’s handsome prince, played by Percy Baverstock’s younger brother, Freddie.
For the sake of the Baverstocks, Iris must investigate the murder, even though it means confronting an old enemy. And as the line between friend and foe blurs dangerously, she’s ensnared by someone she hoped she’d never see again…
Everyone’s favourite amateur sleuth returns for a Christmas mystery, perfect for fans of Verity Bright, Claire Gradidge and Emily Organ.
I love a new Iris Woodmore 1920s mystery, and A Corpse in Christmas Close is as well-plotted and deeply grounded in the historical events of the day as the previous books in the series.
Iris is a great main character. She is tenacious and outspoken, aware of society’s conventions but often keen to ignore them. She and her fellow cast members are all well-drawn and believable.
I almost always determine how much I love a mystery by whether I work out the culprit or not, and once more, I was caught out by the resolution for A Corpse in Christmas Close.
The pacing is great. I’m looking forward to Iris’ next adventure.
Michelle Salter writes historical cosy crime set in Hampshire, where she lives, and inspired by real-life events in 1920s Britain. Her Iris Woodmore series draws on an interest in the aftermath of the Great War and the suffragette movement.
The Wolves of Odin must bring a rogue Viking chief to heel, in the rolling Yorkshire Dales… AD 1044. Fleeing the machinations of William the Conqueror in France, the Wolves of Odin set sail for Britain.
They make for the north of the country, heading to Jorvik – Viking York. Its earl, Sigurd, doesn’t believe they have arrived with peaceable intentions. To prove their good faith, he challenges them to fix a problem for him…
North of Jorvik, in the Dales, a rogue Viking warlord, Arkil, resists Sigurd’s rule with a small army. Sigurd’s forces are spread too thin to deal with him directly, and so it falls to the Wolves…
My Review
Loki Unbound is the fifth book in the Wolves of Odin series. I’ve read book 2, but none of the others. It took me a little while to get back into the characters, but more than anything, it’s because Hardrada was such an important character in book 2, and he’s not in this one:) Once I realised this, I worked out what was happening.
This book takes us to Jorvik and Swaledale, north of Jorvik, where our cast of warriors and seeresses are faced with a seemingly impossible task: reclaiming a lost mining area from the local Viking. The Viking has built some fairly impenetrable defences and has a warrior of immense renown amongst his warriors and his own seeress. But Halfdan, Gunnhild, and Bjorn are not to be stopped in their attempts to aid the bishop of Jorvik and, in exchange, gain something they really want as they work towards facing their own enemies in the Scandinavian lands.
Told from the viewpoint of our main characters and with some retrospective story elements concerning Bjorn, which worked really well, this is an engrossing tale of the time that I thoroughly enjoyed. I will have to go back and read the stories I’ve missed in this series.
SJA Turney is an author I trust to tell me an excellent story, be it Roman or Viking, and he didn’t disappoint.
I’m delighted to welcome A.M.Swink and her new book, Venator from the Roman Equestrian Series, to the blog with an excerpt.
Excerpt
Excerpt 5:
‘There we are.’ Julianus Titianus pushed Livius away as soon as he’d poured the wine. He lifted his glass at Decimus. ‘Your health, Centurion.’
Decimus begrudgingly sipped his drink. With a grunt, he leant forward and slammed his beaker back on the tribune’s marble table. ‘What do you want, Titianus?’
‘My, my! So very direct!’ The tribune chuckled, narrowing his beady eyes at the centurion over the rim of his glass. ‘Not even a word of thanks for your gracious host?’
‘I’m not fond of lies. They tend to stick in my throat.’ Decimus scowled.
He glanced around uncomfortably at his surroundings. Though as primus pilus he’d spent long hours in the war room discussing campaign strategies with the legate, Decimus had never felt entirely at ease within the ornate praetorium. The high, vaulted ceilings, painted walls, and mosaic floors seemed far too excessive for his tastes. Did all men of such high rank have to make their homes in opulent palaces?
He shuddered. Perhaps he wasn’t cut out for belonging to the equestrian class.
Across the table, Titianus sat before a mural depicting Pluto leading Proserpina into Hades; the mouth of the cave to the underworld loomed directly behind the tribune’s head. ‘Words were never your strong suit, were they, Maximus?’ Titianus smirked. ‘You’ve always been a man of action.’
‘Get to your point!’ Decimus barked, sitting on the edge of his chair.
‘So impatient!’ Titianus reclined against the back of his seat and tutted softly. ‘I do hope you aren’t considering the mercantile trade when you leave the army, old boy. You’re a pretty poor negotiator.’
‘Luckily enough, Tribune, I have no plans of the sort.’
‘Oh, really?’ Titianus coolly pulled out a tool to begin picking at imagined flecks of dirt beneath his spotless fingernails. ‘I thought I’d been reliably informed you plan to spend your retirement in the capital.’
Decimus shifted in his seat uncomfortably. ‘And why is it any of your concern?’
‘Just wondering if our paths shall cross again.’ Titianus smirked. ‘I’ll be heading back to pursue a quaestorship come spring. And my promotion is assured. I don’t have to bother telling you who my connections are. Let’s just say that I would be quite the valuable ally or quite the powerful enemy.’
‘Your connections are too rich for my blood; I think I’ll remain neutral.’
‘I hardly think you can value neutrality when it comes to me, Centurion.’
Decimus impatiently drummed his fingers on the table. ‘You know nothing about the business that interests me,’ he said at last.
‘Hmm…’ Titianus pretended to mull over Decimus’s words. ‘I don’t know about that. I do know that if you want to breed nags for the imperial army, you’re going to need a contract. One taken out with the palace.’
Decimus abruptly stopped drumming his fingers. He eyed the tribune suspiciously. ‘And?’
‘Well, I’m hardly one to brag, but…I do have friends in high places.’ Titianus shrugged. ‘Ones that have the ability to push for or against the success of such a petition.’
Decimus felt a cool chill from the smile Titianus gave him. He forced himself to bark out a laugh. ‘You’re bluffing.’
Titianus picked up his beaker and idly swirled its contents. ‘Find out at your peril, Centurion.’
‘I value my time, Tribune. And you are wasting it.’ Decimus pushed his chair back and stood.
‘Hold on!’ A note of alarm entered Titianus’s voice. He lifted a hand in protest. ‘Aren’t you curious as to what I’ve got to say?’
‘No.’ Decimus picked his helmet off the table and turned to leave. ‘I’ve played in this little farce for long enough!’
‘It concerns the princess.’
Decimus froze. His tongue darted out to wet his dry lips. ‘What about her?’
Titianus gestured to the vacant seat. He smiled as the centurion reluctantly sat back down. ‘Good, good. Now, let’s discuss this properly.’ He linked his fingers together on the tabletop, twiddling his soft, doughy thumbs. ‘I understand from our quartermaster that you purchased the princess from the legion two months ago for the sum of five hundred denarii. Is that correct?’
Decimus curtly nodded.
Titianus met the centurion’s gaze. He paused for a long moment, leaning over the table. ‘I’ll give you a thousand denarii for her.’
‘I’m sorry, Tribune.’ Decimus quickly stood again. ‘My slave is not for sale.’
‘Twelve hundred denarii!’
‘Not for that price. Not for any price.’ He clapped his helmet back on his head and began making his way towards the door.
Titianus stood and followed him down the hall. ‘Fifteen hundred denarii!’
‘At any price, Tribune!’ Decimus called warningly, refusing to break stride.
‘All right, all right!’ Titianus grabbed at the centurion’s shoulder. Decimus halted and whirled around to face him with a snarl. The tribune backed away, holding his hands up defensively. ‘Eighteen hundred denarii for one night. Just one night with her. Otherwise, she’s yours. Eighteen hundred denarii. One night. My final offer.’
Decimus’s face darkened. He loomed over the cowering tribune and grabbed hold of his neckerchief. ‘Do I look like a pimp to you?’
‘I…I just…’ Titianus choked.
‘Do I look like a pimp to you?!’ Decimus shook Titianus, lifting him onto his toes. With a contemptuous grunt, he tossed him onto the tiled floor. The man skidded roughly against the tesserae before slowing to a halt before his gilded lararium.
‘Stay away from my property, Tribune. Consider this your final warning.’ Decimus turned and stalked out the door.
Livius materialised in the hall and hastened to his master’s side.
‘Get off!’ Titianus kicked at Livius when the slave stooped to help him up. He panted, lifting his head to watch the centurion march away towards the barracks. Hate glistened in his beady dark eyes.
Blurb
Britannia, AD 59. Decimus is a long-serving senior centurion who dreams of retirement in Rome. Luciana is a Cornovii princess devoted to the freedom and survival of her tribe. Connected only by a passion for horsemanship, the pair could not be more ill-matched. After a deadly conflict thrusts these enemies together, each is determined to fight their desires and triumph over the other. Who will ultimately control the other’s heart?
But Decimus and Luciana are not the only ones on the hunt for supremacy; a desperate struggle over the province is beginning to simmer to a boil. There are whispers of mysterious Druids fomenting unrest among the western British tribes, whose inter-tribal divisions threaten to subsume them. The future of the Roman legions in the province is suddenly thrown into doubt as casualties begin to mount. Decimus and Luciana find themselves entangled within a web of characters, Briton and Roman, playing with Britannia’s destiny to serve their own ends.
The hunt for power is on, where only one side can emerge triumphant. But just who among these hunters will end up hunted?
A native of Dayton, Ohio, A.M. Swink grew up obsessed with two things: books and horses. After a childhood of reading, writing, showing, and riding, she moved to Lexington, Kentucky to complete a degree in equine science and management and a degree in English literary studies. She now works in Lexington as a college professor of reading and writing. In her spare time, she has travelled extensively around the UK and Ireland, exploring ancient sites and artefacts, as well as tracing her own ancestry. She is proud to be descended from County Cork’s Callaghan clan.
When not writing, she can be found collecting and showing model horses or enjoying her favourite British comedy programmes.
