I’m delighted to welcome Micheál Cladáin to the blog, to share his historical research with us, no matter how strange.
I wouldn’t consider my research processes particularly strange. I have a mountain of reference books (see the picture for a small sample), which I read from cover to cover and refer to continually.
Of course, there are many more – including those in my Kindle library. I took classical studies at UNI, so it is understandable. After editing, I find research to be the most time-consuming aspect of writing, however enjoyable. I would say that three-fifths of my time spent producing a novel is on research, two-fifths on writing, and half on editing. I am not sure if this division is typical of other writers.
An aspect of my research that does not involve reading is visiting sites of ancient monuments or reconstructions thereof. Something that might be considered strange is I take loads of photos that I use to sketch mood boards. It might be classed as quirky behaviour, but it helps me set the scene when I write. Often I will create a sketch for a particular piece I am about to write.
Let me throw out some examples. I took the following photo at the Irish Heritage Centre in Wexford. It shows the interior of an Ancient Irish roundhouse.
I used the photo to create the following sketch.
That was a general mood graphic on my mood board, whereas the following two pictures represent a specific event. Genonn and Oengus at the hostel. Again, the photo was taken at the Wexford Heritage Centre.
I used the photo to sketch the following.
For something more relevant, I took the following photo in Drombeg, West Cork.
I used the photo to create a sketch of Genonn at the sacred circle outside Caer Leb on the Isle of Anglesey. Some might say it is not an authentic mood setter because I would need to have taken a photo of a stone circle on Anglesey, preferably near Afon Briant, where Caer Leb is located. However, one stone circle is much like another.
The picture gives me a sense of place and time.
Some might ask why I create sketches. Why not just use the photos as a mood board? Aside from my general quirkiness, adding characters to the pictures gives them context. I sketch them in black and white because it creates a sense of distance in time. I don’t know why, because it is nonsense, but I feel that the ancient world was much less colourful than our world today.
And finally, I took the following photo from inside a stone fort near Waterville in Kerry, which was ideal for creating an image of Luchar. Again, Luchar’s stone fortress was in Wales, but I currently have no access. Perhaps next year, I will make a point of visiting Tre’r Cieri to take some photos.
The next book in the series, Iron, has quite a few scenes in Rome, so needless to say, I will be in the Eternal City next week snapping pickies of the Forum and the Colosseum.
Thank you so much for sharing. Enjoy your trip to Rome.
Here’s the blurb
Genonn’s tired and dreams of a remote roundhouse in the Cuala Mountains.
However, sudden rebellion in Roman Britain destroys that dream because the Elder Council task him with delivering Lorg Mór, the hammer of the Gods, to the tribes across the straits of Pwll Ceris. Despite being torn between a waning sense of duty and his desire to become a hermit, Genonn finally agrees to help.
When his daughter follows him into danger, it tests his resolve. He wants to do everything he can to see her back to Druid Island and her mother. This new test of will means he is once again conflicted between duty and desire. Ultimately, his sense of duty wins; is it the right decision? Has he done the right thing by relegating his daughter’s safety below his commitment to the clans?
Micheál has been an author for many years. He studied Classics and developed a love of Greek and Roman culture through those studies. In particular, he loved their mythologies. As well as a classical education, bedtime stories consisted of tales read from a great tome of Greek Mythology, and Micheál was destined to become a storyteller from those times.
Today, I’m sharing an excerpt from The Black Madonna, an English Civil War, historical romance.
Kate and Eden visit Luciano del Santi … trailed by their younger brother who makes an unexpected discovery
Giacomo beamed. ‘I tell Signor Luciano you are ’ere. ’E is in ’is workshop but for you ’e will come out. Scusi – momento!’
‘Workshop?’ said Toby, on just the right note of appeal.
Giacomo stopped and regarded the boy with benevolence.
‘Si. You ’ave interest? You like to see?’
‘Well,’ said Toby in the tone of one reluctant to give trouble but willing to be persuaded, ‘it’s just that I’ve never – ow!’
Having discreetly trodden on his brother’s foot, Eden smiled at Giacomo and said, ‘Another time, if Signor del Santi permits. We’ve no wish to inconvenience him.’
‘Is not inconvenience – is pleasure!’ cried Giacomo, expansively. ‘Please – you come. The signor will be so ’appy. You come.’
There was no help for it. They went, Toby clattering on in front at Giacomo’s heels.
‘Damn,’ said Eden softly to Kate. ‘Why didn’t I drop him overboard while I had the chance?’
‘No resolution,’ she replied. ‘But don’t worry. You heard what the man said. The signor will be so ’appy.’
‘You think?’
She rolled expressive eyes and said nothing.
Ahead of them, Giacomo opened a door and embarked on a vivacious flow of Italian which was immediately stemmed by a brief, pungently delivered sentence in the same language. Kate and Eden exchanged glances and then, arriving in the doorway, looked past Giacomo to the scene within.
His face still marked by fading bruises, Luciano del Santi was in his shirt-sleeves, sitting at a large trestle on which reposed an impressive array of small tools. His concentrated gaze was wholly taken up with the gleaming object held in one long-fingered hand. In shape and size it resembled a chalice, being set upon a delicately slender stem; but the bowl was composed of intricately pierced lattice-work … a spider’s web spun in gold.
The clever hands stilled and, without haste, the Italian looked up at his visitors. The impassive eyes held Kate’s gaze for a couple of seconds and then he said, ‘In a few minutes you will be welcome … but, until then, I would appreciate silence.’ And he turned coolly back to his work.
Somewhere at the back of her mind, Kate discovered the first twinges of respect. If the lovely thing in his hands was of his own creating, then there was more to this man than malicious wit. It did not, she told herself firmly, make him any easier to like; and, with equal firmness, squashed the sneaking suspicion that it added another dimension to the signor’s inexplicable fascination.
Toby, meanwhile, had approached the table so stealthily that no one had noticed him doing it. And when Luciano del Santi finally set the piece down, it was Toby said, ‘Did you make all of that? Yourself, I mean?’
The Italian looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Yes.’
‘How long did it take?’
‘In hours of work? I don’t know. It isn’t important. These things are finished in their own time.’
Toby nodded, apparently understanding this.
‘And is it finished now?’
‘Not quite. There are still some slightly roughened edges here – and here.’ He lifted the goblet for the boy’s inspection and pointed to it in various places. ‘You see? These must be smoothed and polished. And then I shall engrave the base along this curvature here.’
‘And then?’ asked Toby. ‘What is it?’
‘What does it look like?’
‘A wine-cup. But you couldn’t drink out of it. It’s got holes in it.’
Luciano del Santi reached to his left and picked up an object wrapped in a soft cloth. Then, opening it, he placed its contents gently inside the golden web of the chalice.
‘So,’ he said, apparently unaware of the faint breathiness that had suddenly afflicted Kate. ‘The finest amber … I carved it myself. And the gold, you see, is no more than a shell.’
For probably the first time in his life, Toby took at least two minutes to decide what to say. The amber was beautiful and so thin that the light shone through it; and, set in its fragile tracery of gold, it glowed with almost uncanny life. And Toby, looking at it, was consumed by a sudden thirst for knowledge. Drawing a long breath, he stared the Italian straight in the eye and said, ‘Can … can anyone learn to do that?’
‘No.’ The word was bland and unequivocal.
‘Could I?’
There was a long pause. Then, ‘If you mean, could you learn to work gold – yes. Perhaps. It is a skill and can therefore be taught. If, however, you are asking if you can become a master … then the answer is no. Master-goldsmiths are born, not made. And if you don’t already have the ingredients within you, no one can put them there.’
Again and much to the surprise of Kate and Eden, Toby seemed to accept this without question. He just nodded slowly and said, ‘Will you teach me?’
Luciano del Santi leaned his elbows on the trestle and regarded Toby steadily over his hands. ‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘That’s enough, Toby.’ Eden stepped forward and dropped a hand on his young brother’s shoulder. ‘Signor del Santi has been more than patient – so just take no for an answer and stop haranguing him.’
Toby shook off Eden’s hand and stood his ground.
‘Why not?’ he said again.
For the first time since they had come in, a vagrant smile touched the sculpted face.
‘Because I don’t know anything about you. In the last five minutes, you’ve decided you want to be a goldsmith. For all I know to the contrary, yesterday you may have yearned to be a blacksmith and tomorrow, a pastry-cook. I’m not inclined to waste my time.’
‘All right.’ The boy shoved back an unruly lock of dark brown hair from his face and thought about it. ‘I suppose that’s fair. But if I prove I really mean it – then will you teach me?’
‘Toby.’ Eden was beginning to see a chasm yawning ahead. The Italian had been amazingly tolerant so far but it couldn’t last. ‘Toby … for God’s sake, stop arguing.’
‘I’m not arguing,’ said Toby. ‘I’m enquiring.’
Kate stared hard at the floor and tried to straighten out her face.
Luciano del Santi startled them all by laughing.
‘I don’t see what’s so funny,’ Toby objected. ‘I just want to know whether you’ll ever agree to teach me – or whether you’re just making excuses. Because if you won’t teach me, I’ll just have to find someone who will.’
Something in his voice broke through Kate’s amusement and caused her to unlock her tongue. She said, ‘Stop and think what you’re saying, Toby. If you’re serious about this, you’ll need Father’s permission and a formal apprenticeship. You’d have to live away from home and sign away your life for years to – to someone like Signor del Santi. It’s not something to be decided on a moment’s impulse.’
‘I don’t care,’ came the stubborn reply. ‘I want to know how to make things like that … and I shan’t change my mind, no matter what you think.’
Giacomo chuckled and said something in his own language. His master replied with what appeared to be dry humour and then relapsed into silence. Kate decided that a basic grasp of Italian might come in useful.
‘Very well,’ said Luciano del Santi crisply. ‘I’ll make you no promises. Perhaps I’ll teach you – perhaps not. We’ll see. In the meantime, I’ll allow you the freedom of my workshop. You may come here when you wish and pick up what knowledge you can by watching. I am not always here; but my assistant, Gino, will answer your questions. If you wait for half an hour or so, you can meet him. But what you will not do is to touch anything at all without either his permission or mine. Break that rule even once and there will be no second chance. And if, in the end, I refuse to take you as a pupil, you must accept that I mean it and will not change my mind. Do I make myself quite clear?’
‘Yes.’ Toby flushed and grinned widely. ‘Yes. Thank you.’
Laying his fingers on the table-edge, the Italian rose from his stool and replaced his coat with a caution which reminded Kate that the attack had done more than mark his face. Strangely, she was conscious of a twinge of sympathy that hadn’t been there when Eden had first told her of it.
‘Don’t thank me. Just remember that I’ve promised you nothing. Yet. And now, Giacomo will introduce you to Gino when he comes, while I take your brother and sister upstairs for some refreshment.’ And without waiting for a reply, he crossed a little stiffly to Kate’s side and offered his arm.
She took it, felt herself colouring and was annoyed. It was this, more than anything, that made her say abruptly, ‘Why are you doing this for Toby?’
‘Because he reminds Giacomo of someone.’
Kate shot him a suspicious glance. ‘Who?’
He sighed and, for a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to answer.
Then, ‘Me,’ he said.
Here’s the blurb
As England slides into Civil War, master-goldsmith and money-lender, Luciano Falcieri del Santi embarks on his own hidden agenda. A chance meeting one dark night results in an unlikely friendship with Member of Parliament, Richard Maxwell. Richard’s daughter, Kate – a spirited girl who vows to hold their home against both Cavalier and Roundhead – soon finds herself fighting an involuntary attraction to the clever, magnetic and diabolically beautiful Italian.
Hampered by the warring English, his quest growing daily more dangerous, Luciano begins to realise that his own life and that of everyone close to him rests on the knife-edge of success … for only success will permit him to reclaim the Black Madonna and offer his heart to the girl he loves.
From the machinations within Parliament to the last days of the King’s cause, The Black Madonna is an epic saga of passion and intrigue at a time when England was lost in a dark and bloody conflict.
Buy Links:
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Winner of three gold medals for historical romance (Readers’ Favourite in 2019, Book Excellence Awards in 2020, Global Book Awards in 2022) and fourteen B.R.A.G. Medallions, Stella Riley lives in the beautiful medieval town of Sandwich in Kent.
She is fascinated by the English Civil Wars and has written six books set in that period. These, like the seven-book Rockliffe series (recommended in The Times newspaper!) and the Brandon Brothers trilogy, are all available in audio, narrated by Alex Wyndham.
Stella enjoys travel, reading, theatre, Baroque music and playing the harpsichord. She also has a fondness for men with long hair – hence her 17th and 18th century heroes.
Happy book birthday to the wonderful Son of Mercia, the first book telling the story of young Icel in early ninth-century Mercia (fans of The Last King will have met Icel before, but it’s not necessary to enjoy Son of Mercia).
The series is now a massive four books long, and I’m busy working on book 5, which doesn’t have a title just yet (or does it?)
I thought today would be a great day to shine a light on all four books, and don’t worry if you’ve not read book 4 yet, Eagle of Mercia is releasing in May 2023. So here goes.
Tamworth, Mercia AD825.
The once-mighty kingdom of Mercia is in perilous danger.
Their King, Beornwulf lies dead and years of bitter in-fighting between the nobles, and cross border wars have left Mercia exposed to her enemies.
King Ecgberht of Wessex senses now is the time for his warriors to strike and exact his long-awaited bloody revenge on Mercia.
King Wiglaf, has claimed his right to rule Mercia, but can he unite a disparate Kingdom against the might of Wessex who are braying for blood and land?
Can King Wiglaf keep the dragons at bay or is Mercia doomed to disappear beneath the wings of the Wessex wyvern?
Icel is becoming a warrior of Mercia, but King Ecgberht of Wessex still holds the Mercian settlement of Londonia and its valuable mint.
King Wiglaf of Mercia is determined that the last bulwark be reclaimed from his sworn enemy to complete his rehabilitation as Mercia’s rightful ruler.
In the heart of the shield wall, Icel suddenly finds himself on the wrong side of the battle and thrust into the retreating enemy stronghold where he must take on the pretence of a Wessex warrior to survive and exact a cunning plan to bring down the Wessex force cowering behind the ancient walls.
His allegiances are tested and the temptation to make new allies is overwhelming but Icel must succeed if he’s ever to see Tamworth again and bring about King Wiglaf’s victory, or will he be forced to join the enemy?
Oath sworn to Wiglaf, King of Mercia and acknowledged as a member of Ealdorman Ælfstan’s warrior band, Icel continues to forge his own destiny on the path to becoming the Warrior of Mercia.
With King Ecgberht of Wessex defeated and Londonium back under Mercian control, the Wessex invasion of Mercia is over.
But the Wessex king was never Mercia’s only enemy. An unknown danger lurks in the form of merciless Viking raiders, who set their sights on infiltrating the waterways of the traitorous breakaway kingdom of the East Angles, within touching distance of Mercia’s eastern borders.
Icel must journey to the kingdom of the East Angles and unite against a common enemy to ensure Mercia’s hard-won freedom prevails.
A mercy mission in the heart of Wessex is beset with deadly, bloody dangers.
Tamworth AD831
Icel’s profile continues to rise. Lord of Budworth and warrior of Mercia, he’s acknowledged by King Wiglaf and his comrades to keep Mercia safe from the ravages of Wessex, the king-slayer of the East Angles, and the Viking raiders. But, danger looms. Alongside Spring’s arrival comes the almost certain threat of the Viking raiders return.
When Lord Coenwulf of Kingsholm is apprehended by a Viking and held captive on the Isle of Sheppey in Wessex held Kent, Icel is implored by Lady Cynehild to rescue her husband.
To rescue Lord Coenwulf, Icel and his fellow warriors must risk themselves twice over, for not only must they overpower the Viking raiders, they must also counter the threat of Mercia’s ancient enemy, the kingdom of Wessex as they travel through their lands.
Far from home and threatened on all sides, have Icel and his fellow warriors sworn to carry out an impossible duty
Set in the troubled years at the end of the Mercian supremacy, with the advent of the true First Viking Age just around the corner, The Eagle of Mercia Chronicles allow me to explore the kingdoms of Saxon England at the time, while ensuring my focus remains on Mercia, the kingdom in the’Midlands’ of England, with which I’m quite obsessed.
And choosing to write about a very strong character from my The Last King series, also allows me to play with my readers expectations. Icel is a fabulous creation, and one I’m incredibly proud of and pleased that my readers love so much.
Yes, these are bloody and brutal tales, but at the heart of them is a ‘coming of age’ story as young Icel learns about himself, as well as the truth of his heritage and birth.
If you’ve not yet tried The Eagle of Mercia Chronicles, then now is the perfect opportunity. Enjoy.
To win a set of the first three books in paperback – signed and dedicated as you would like, please sign up for my newsletter, or my newsletter with Boldwood Books. (Competition ends on 24th Feb). I send a monthly email. I will contact the winner and arrange postage – I will post worldwide. If you are signed up for both already, then drop me a quick email, and I will enter you into the competition. Good luck.
Easier to split the sky, than part a soldier from his blade.
386 AD. The Eastern Roman Empire faces a trident of threats. The Gothic truce grows unstable. The standoff with Persia escalates. And the ambitions of the usurper on the Western throne grow dangerously unchecked.
Pavo, a broken veteran of the legions, cares for none of these things. His life is one of pastoral seclusion on his Thracian farm. A life of love, of peace. His wife and young son are his world. Still, every so often, things seen and done in his old life haunt him, like a cold and unwelcome breeze. But that is all they are, echoes of the past…
…until the past rises, like a shade, to rip his world and the Roman Empire apart.
The Emperor’s Shield by Gordon Doherty is the ninth book in the Legionary series, and you guessed it, it’s the first book in the series that I’ve read:) (This is somewhat of a theme for me).
That said, I had no problem being gripped by the story. Pavo is a wonderful character, and while to begin with I did think this was ‘his’ story, more characters were quickly introduced, and the world of the late 300s of the Roman Empire sharply come into focus. This isn’t a period I know a great deal about – especially not in the Eastern Empire, but Pavo, his wife, son and Frugilo, make the period come alive. The camaraderie between Pavo and his old friends, add the human touch to the story, which is a complex web of lies and misdirection taking place over vast distances.
This is truly a story on an epic scale. It probably has a cast of thousands, although not all of them are named. There are warriors from all corners of the Roman Empire, East and West, and Pavo is in the thick of it all, as one of the Eastern Emperor’s elite bodyguard.
The tension throughout the final 25% of the book ramps up spectacularly, and I had to stop myself from googling the period to find out what actually happened, before I got to the end.
A thrilling tale of empire and conspiracy, that certainly leaves the reader desperate to go back to book 1, or eagerly waiting for book 10. A true triumph of the genre.
Meet the author
Gordon Doherty is the author of the Legionary and Strategos series, and wrote the Assassin’s Creed tie-in novel Odyssey. He is based in Scotland.
I’m aware that there’s been a bit of a delay in getting everything shipshape over on Amazon, but everything is now where it should be – the ebook, paperback, audio, and hardback, all linked together. Whoo hoo. You can find them with the link below, which also includes other retailers, with links to the large print version.
So, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to share a few things with you that have happened since release.
As I can’t upload the video here, I’ve done my ‘unboxing’ video and popped it over on TikTok – which I’m trying to learn. You can find it here. The paperback looks amazing:) It’s very smart and the family tree and map are also included. If you’re on TikTok give me a follow, as I’m looking for more content to help me get to grips with it.
I’m also going to share a link for the audiobook, read by the fabulous Matt Coles, which you can also find here, on my website, not my blog. (I can’t upload videos to my blog – who knew).
And, if you missed my blog post yesterday on Historia, you can read it here. It’s an introduction, quite a swift one, into what was happening in the Saxon kingdoms just before the events of King of Kings. And, it’s got some amazing images to go with it. I’m always in awe of someone who knows how all the rules work regarding sharing images on the web. Thank you. (I’ve just been trying to work some of this out for myself, with British Library images – it made my head hurt).
I’m so excited about the release today of King of Kings. This story, the first part in the retelling of the greatest battle on British soil that many have never heard of, Brunanburh, has been long in the making. Building on the original series, begun in 2014, King of Kings is entirely reworked, and it’s so much better:) (I honestly can’t believe how much better it is.)
Here’s the blurb
‘An epic tale of the birth of a nation. Truly mesmerising. Game of Thrones meets The Last Kingdom’ – Gordon Doherty
In the battle for power, there can be only one ruler.
AD925
Athelstan is the king of the English, uniting the petty kingdoms of Wessex, Mercia, the Danish-held Five Boroughs and York following the sudden death of his father, King Edward.
His vision is to unite the realms of the Scots and the Welsh in a peace accord that will protect their borders from the marauding threat of the Norse Vikings.
Whilst seemingly craving peace and demanding loyalty with an imperium over every kingdom, Athelstan could dream of a much bigger prize.
But danger and betrayal surround his best intentions, namely from his overlooked stepbrother, Edwin, who conspires and vies for what he deems is his rightful place as England’s king.
As ever, powerful men who wish to rule do not wish to be ruled, and Constantin of the Scots, Owain of Strathclyde, and Ealdred of Bamburgh plot their revenge against the upstart English king, using any means necessary.
An epic story of kingsmanship that will set in motion the pivotal, bloody Battle of Brunanburh where allies have to be chosen wisely…
(available in ebook, paperback, hardback and audio, narrated by the wonderful Matt Coles).
King of Kings. with its five kingdoms, and one alliance, might need some explanation. To help my readers understand who everyone is, and importantly, where everyone is, King of Kings has a map and a genealogical table, as well as a cast of characters.
Map designed by Shaun at Flintlock Covers
And because the family of King Alfred is so important to the story, I also have a genealogical table to share with my readers.
Design by Boldwood Books
I’ve written some brief introductions for the main cast of characters.
And for those who are falling in love with the period as much as I am, I wanted to share some non-fiction recommendations, and cautions.
There is no one book that will adequately cover this period (that was one of the reasons that I fictionalised it) but these books (see photos below), along with Dr. Kari Maund’s The Welsh Kings, which I have in ebook, will give you a good grounding of events in Britain and Ireland. So, these are
Alfred’s Britain by Max Adams
Athelstan by Sarah Foot
The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles ed and trans. Michael Swanton (other versions available – I like the formatting of this one -with the different recensions)
The Welsh Kings by Kari Maund
An Atlas of Anglo-Saxon England by David Hill (don’t be put off by the fact this book is from the 1970s – it is invaluable)
From Pictland to Alba 789-1070 by Alex Woolf
Viking Kings of Britain and Ireland by Claire Downham
English Historical Documents ed and trans by Dorothy Whitelock
The Frankish Kingdom under the Carolingians by R McKitterick
Edward the Elder ed. Higham and Hill (not a narrative account, but historians writing papers about their area of interest and expertise).
There are also two very important online resources.
Sophie Sayers is ready for a glorious summer, but when a dead body is found in the village school’s lost property cupboard the summer holidays take an unexpected turn.
Even more shocking is when the body goes missing. Without a body, the police refuse to investigate. That’s just not good enough.
Sophie is determined to get to the bottom of the mystery. She needs to find out who has died and nab the culprit if she’s going to save the village school from the threat of closure.
My Review
Murder Lost and Found continues the Sophie Sayers Cosy Mysteries.
It’s the summer holidays, the school is empty of children, but while the caretaker and office manager try to ensure the school is prepared for the start of term, strange happenings take place.
I really enjoy this collection of stories. They’re light-hearted and a quick, pacy read, and I felt this one was particularly strong with the mystery of the lost property cupboard and the strange notes, making poor Sophie doubt herself, even while she contends with change at Horace’s bookshop.
A fun and entertaining read. Bring on book 8.
My thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for my review copy.
Debbie Young is the much-loved author of the Sophie Sayers and St Brides cosy crime mysteries. She lives in a Cotswold village where she runs the local literary festival, and has worked at Westonbirt School, both of which provide inspiration for her writing. She is bringing both her series to Boldwood in a 13-book contract. They will be publishing several new titles in each series and republishing the backlist, starting in September 2022.
Today, I’m absolutely delighted to share a fabulous post from Anna Belfrage about dressing in the seventeenth century. It will make you giggle, I promise.
Dressing for success in the seventeenth century
In a A Rip in the Veil—the first book in The Graham Saga—the unfortunate (or not, depending how one sees it) Alex Lind has the misfortune of falling three centuries backwards in time to land at the feet of Matthew Graham. Matthew Graham is a devout Presbyterian who has fought in the Commonwealth armies in the Civil War. To Alex, he is initially very strange. Heck, the entire situation is strange: no, wait—it’s impossible!
Matthew is as taken aback as Alex is—perhaps even more, as the only explanation to her sudden appearance in his life must be magic. Or? Besides, what is the woman wearing? Those tight, tight breeches she calls ‘djeens” showcase her every curve, as do her other garments. No, had she been his woman, he’d never have allowed her to set a foot outside dressed like that, all of her exposed, like.
Alex quickly realises that in this new time she has to adapt. ASAP. And one of the first things she must embrace is an entire new wardrobe. “Yay me,” she mutters as she shakes out shift and petticoats and heavy skirts and bodice and. . .
I must admit that I wasn’t entirely thrilled when Alex landed in 1658. The seventeenth century is not my sartorial favourite – especially when it comes to male fashion.
This period dress thing is difficult.
First of all, as the writer of historical fiction it is important to understand what people wore, who wore what and how it was worn. In some cases it’s straightforward: stockings cover your feet and the nether part of your legs no matter if you live in the twentieth century or the fifteenth. But take that rather ugly male adornment that Henry VIII was so proud of flaunting – the codpiece – and I am somewhat stumped. How did it work? ( Okay, so I’ve looked this up; strings, buttons or hooks kept this decorative little (hmm) flap of fabric in place.)
Secondly, it helps if the writer in question finds the period attire alluring in some way or other. It’s difficult to write convincingly about handsome men in codpieces and padded breeches when all you see in your head is something resembling a man in a huge diaper.
Finally, there must be a familiarity with how people dress and undress. “He told her to turn around and zipped up her gown,” is not a good description of the intimacy between man and wife in the fourteenth century. (BTW, the modern zipper owes a lot to Swedish inventor Gideon Sundback. It’s nice to know us Swedes have contributed to human development: dynamite, zippers, gauge blocks, the AGA cooker.) Having exploring male fingers encountering panties in the sixteenth century is also something of an anachronism, and should the dashing regency rake pulls down his boxers you’re not reading historical fiction, you’re reading about a masquerade.
To avoid such gaffes, I’ve spent a lot of time researching the period and have accordingly done my fair share of staring at what few clothes survive from the seventeenth century—like James II’s elegant attire exhibited in the Victoria & Albert museum. Okay, so that is later in the century, but all that lace, all those embroideries, and that gigantic wig! Plus, the high heels on the shoes. . . Nope, not at all my cup of tea.
Earlier in the 1600s, men wore wide breeches, sashes, lace, ribbons—like these young and elegant Stuart brothers in Van Dyke’s portrait.
To the seventeenth century young girl, they were likely delectable. To Alex, not so much. She’d be hard put not to laugh her head off. So it is fortunate that when she first meets Matthew, he is in a ragged shirt and equally ragged breeches, fleeing from pursuing soldiers. It is also fortunate that Matthew would no more adorn himself with ribbons than he would dance attendance on the king—he is a man of Parliamentarian convictions. No, Matthew wears plain and well-made clothes, now and then adorned with a ruffled cuff or an elegant collar.
Obviously, Matthew expects this new female companion of his to dress sedately, which is how Alex finds herself obliged to re-learn just how to dress.
In the seventeenth century, there were no bras, no panties. Instead, the undergarment is a shapeless elongated linen shirt that comes to just below the knees. This shift is worn over stockings that come to just above the knee and are fastened by garters. “I can help you with those,” Matthew suggests, and there is a twinkle in his eyes as he helps Alex fasten the stockings with pink ribbons. Just because he doesn’t wear ribbons, it doesn’t mean she can’t, he says. In fact, he rather likes the fact that she is wearing them—and that he tied them into place. Over the shift—which also doubles as nightgown—Alex now dons a corset. “Ugh!” she groans as she tightens into place. The corset she has ties in front—only people who can afford a ladies maid have corsets that tie in the back. She has to struggle a bit to get it to sit right, and then there are the petticoats, tied into place at her waist and falling to mid-calf. Only the very, very rich have garments that fall all the way to the floor. Most women have skirts high enough to allow them to work and walk without dragging the hem in the dirt.
“Here.” Matthew hands her the heavy skirts. And yes, they are heavy, making it hard to, for example, run. Or jump a fence. Once Alex has stepped into them, he helps her tighten them into place. A bodice, a shawl to cover what may remain exposed of her chest and then Matthew holds out a cap. “No way!” She backs away, staring at the embroidered linen coif. “You must cover your hair,” he says. She refuses. There is a slight. . . er . . . argument. Things end in a compromise: she will not cover her hair indoors, but otherwise she will either wear a coif or a hat. Matthew would prefer both, but he is pragmatic enough to realise this isn’t a battle he will win. Besides, Alex is having to handle a lot of change as it is. “Tell me about it,” she mutters. She isn’t overly impressed with the food. Or the lack of chocolate. Or of tea. “I thought they had tea in the seventeenth century,” she groans. “They do,” I tell her, “but it is very, very expensive.” “Oh.” She gnaws her lip, her shoulders slumping. Which is probably why Matthew expends a ridiculous amount on a ridiculous small quantity of tea next time he goes to Edinburgh, pleased by the way she lights up from within when he hands the precious package over.
Over time, Alex will become accustomed to her new clothes, even if she will quite often think longingly of jeans and sweatshirts, of Converse and shop-bought socks. (She hates to knit)
But while she adapts to her new life on the outside, she remains a woman of modern conviction and outlook, which will now and then cause her quite some problems in her new time. It is fortunate that she has Matthew to guide her. On the other hand, there will be countless of occasions when Matthew will owe his life and sanity to her, the strange lass he found concussed and burned on an empty Scottish moor. Two halves made whole are my Alex and Matthew, no matter such details as sartorial arguments!
Thank you so much for such a fabulous post. I just can’t imagine all the lace:)
Here’s the blurb
On a muggy August day in 2002 Alex Lind disappears. On an equally stifling August day in 1658, Matthew Graham finds her on a Scottish moor. Life will never be the same for Alex – or for Matthew.
Alexandra Lind is thrown three centuries backwards in time to land at the feet of escaped convict Matthew Graham.
Matthew doesn’t know what to make of this strange woman who has seemingly fallen from the skies—what is she, a witch?
Alex is convinced the tall, gaunt man is some sort of hermit, an oddball, but she quickly realises the odd one out is she, not he.
Catapulted from a life of modern comfort, Alex grapples with her new existence, further complicated by the dawning realization that someone from her time has followed her here—and not exactly to extend a helping hand.
Potential compensation for this brutal shift in fate comes in the shape of Matthew, a man she should never have met, not when she was born three centuries after him. But Matthew comes with baggage of his own and on occasion his past threatens them both. At times Alex finds it all excessively exciting, longing for the structured life she used to have.
How will she ever get back? And more importantly, does she really want to?
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This title is available to read on #KindleUnlimited.
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.
Her Castilian Heart is the third in her “Castilian” series, a stand-alone sequel to her September 2020 release, His Castilian Hawk. 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. This latest release finds our protagonists back in England—not necessarily any safer than the wilds of Spain!
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
Freckles, well-earned from working long days in the sun, sprinkled the bridge of the nose and spilled over onto the cheeks of the face of the farm girl, Yan Li.
A badge of honor in her home region, the freckles were looked on as a relic of the agrarian past in certain sectors of modern China. The New China. Industrial China.
“Don’t do this!” whispered Ming Jun, seated beside her. “The bridge bombing has everyone on edge. What if they –”
“Someone has to say something.”
Yan Li’s eyes were clear, her jaw firm, her expression determined. She straightened the barrette holding her hair back.
Yan Li stood up.
“Sit down!” hissed Ming Jun,
“These mathematics are wrong! All wrong!”
Yan Li announced this to the room full of working clerks and book-keeps on the expansive counting floor of Building Two.
Her voice was too loud to be ignored.
Faces turned towards her.
“It’s all bad,” she continued. “Completely phony. The assumptions are fabricated. You know this!”
The calm murmur of adding and multiplying, of calculations and quiet consultations, of pens scratching on paper, the soft clanking of typewriters in the half-walled stations which ringed the floor of low desks offices – all sounds on the counting floor subsided.
“A thousand times ridiculous is still ridiculous. I can’t be the only one who thinks so.”
Two of the red-kerchiefed floor proctors hustled towards Ya Li. After all, she was disrupting the entire society’s forward progress.
“Sit back down, farm girl,” commented one of her tallying peers. But the lone jibe froze in the air. None others joined.
“Look,” said Yan Li evenly. “If anyone believes these so-called forecasts we are producing … well then, their deaths will be on our heads, comrades. It will be our fault if we do not speak up”
By now, even the soft plucking of stringed instruments in the background had fallen silent.
“We-cannot-possibly-endorse-this-charade!” concluded Yan Li.
“It’s the millet,” called out a second fellow scribe, a boy near the middle. “The winter wheat numbers are higher –”
“A FACTOR of FOUR higher?” demanded Yan Li. “The families who sit and wait for those phantom grains will be sorely disappointed, my friend. Empty bowls! They will starve and it will be horrible — ”
“Her work has been strenuous, Shi’lang,” implored Ming Jun to the first proctor, “the hours long. Just let her sit back down.”
“All right,” said the proctor Shi’lang, a handsome older boy dressed in white with a red kerchief around his neck. “That’s quite enough!”
“Who will join me in a new and honest set of calculations?” demanded Yan Li.
A loud knock on the glass walls.
A trio of the skinny soldiers, buck-toothed boys in green suits, rifles slung over shoulders, had paused in their campus patrol. Were they needed, to restore order?
Shi’lang waved them away.
Shi’lang draped an arm around Yan Li’s shoulder and laughed in a most friendly fashion.
“Ah! Yes! Now I see the error you mention, Yan Li. I had noticed it, too. You are a prankster! Charming.” He chuckled.
A little bell was ringing. It emanated from the corner office, raised above the counting floor. The Supervisor’s office.
A second floor-proctor joined Shi’lang and together they ushered Yan Li off the floor.
“‘Charade,’” laughed handsome Shi’lang, shaking his head wryly.
The members of the counting floor disliked this show of force.
Rumblings started up in the back rows …
Across the big open room, another red-bandana youth clapped his hands.
“Back to work, please.”
The morning fruit and cheese platters were quickly circulated, an hour earlier than usual.
The soft plucking of lutes rose once again.
Gradually, unevenly, the Chairman’s work continued.
2. IN THE OFFICE OF THE SUPERVISOR
By the end of the first millennium A.D., China
possessed a sophistication in the technology
of traditional agriculture that has never been surpassed …
the basic contours of this spectacular agricultural system
were laid during the Classical period.
– Agriculture in Ancient China
The Chairman’s summer villa compound in Mei Ling is most pleasant.
Dappled sunlight graces the secluded retreat, a well-manicured place most conducive to quiet contemplation and deep thoughts. Burbling streams and winding paths run through the sylvan grounds of the lakeshore campus. Mountain goats roam the cliffs and munch on grass at the forested margins. Staircases and antique cable cars bring visitors down the sharp inclines leading to Lake Wuhan at the compound’s western edge. Deer stoop to drink from still ponds by Building Four.
Red drapes frame tableaus of blond furniture and upholstered chairs of the lobbies within the glass walls of Building Three. An assembly hall could be glimpsed beyond the plum carpeting.
Among the tall pine and bamboo trees, the young soldiers with their guard dogs walked the paths winding up to bulky Building One. A swimming pool was hidden behind its tinted windows. Building Two, where the agricultural forecasts in support of the coming Great Leap Forward – the bold initiative which would establish and a new China — were taking place, where Yan Li had created such a commotion, was lower and sleeker.
* * *
The star-splashed freckles sprinkled across Yan Li’s nose and cheeks stood out now. Her blood was rising, and the skin of her face was flushed with anger.
The Supervisor, Miss Wang Na, paced the striped rug of the corner office. She paused to look out over the clerks working on their calculations o forecast the coming harvests.
Yan Li stood, defiant. Her hands had been tied.
Cushions in primary colors decorated the white sofas in the glass-walled office. Ivory rugs offset a row of wood-paneled bookshelves behind the large desk.
“We have summoned the Director,” said Miss Wang Na.
“He left for Xinhua an hour ago, but we can get him back.”
She paced behind metal standing lamps.
“Summon Empress Lu Zhi and the Seven Hoardes of Han for all I care,” commented Yan Li.
“This is most serious,” said Shi’lang
Miss Wang Na paused to consider the lake.
The glass corner office was perched on and above sparkling blue Lake Wuhan’s shoreline. Splashing paddle-boats and brightly colored lanterns strung along the lakeside walkways gave no hint as to what might lay beneath the deep waters’ surface.
Miss Wang Na turned, cursing bitterly.
“First the bombing! Then the Yunhe rebels attack our supply lines. Now this! Treason from within!”
“You’re the traitor!” spat Yan Li. “You are complicit in what will be a famine of colossal proportions! Death by starvation. In the millions — ”
“Why are you trying to make me look bad, farm girl?” demanded Miss Wang Na.
“To save tens of thousands of lives,” answered Yan Li.
“The Director will be presenting our tables to the Bureau, in Beijing, in less than a week. If the net present values do not align — ”
“Oh, that part is easy enough,” refuted the girl. “The net present value of next year’s famine is ‘Famine.’ Also known as ‘Zero.’”
“Yes, well, your barn-yard stubbornness, your backward ways, your slavery to tradition, your LACK of VISION are exactly what the Chairman fears most. I was present during his address at the Beijing Palace, and he predicted that these epochal events woul — ”
“Setting bad mathematics in historical context doesn’t change anything,” said Yan Li.
“Reactionary.” Shi’lang shook his head. “Confucian.”
“’Confucian’? It’s not Confucian. The calculations need to be exact. Based on reality. It all must beintentional. Not some empty exercise. If the numbers are compromised even slightly, it’s all worthless. No forecast. How can you not see that?”
“Oh, I see,” said the Supervisor, Miss Wang Na.
“I see, all right.”
“What’s this? Eh?” asked the Supervisor sharply.
She pointed to the equation at the top of one of Yan Li’s pages.
“What is the meaning of this formula?”
Yield in t/ha = (220 × 24 × 3.4) / 10,000 = 1.79
“It’s not a formula,” answered Yan Li, shaking her head. “It’s an equation.
“It shows the crop yield in any given harvest. Every forecaster follows this same model.”
“And why is it incomplete?” demanded the Supervisor.
“It’s waiting for a proper numerator. What you gave me is garbage. Worse than garbage.”
Shi’lang moved as if to strike her. Miss Wang Na stepped between them.
“Let X equal X,” challenged Yan Li, stepping forward —
Here’s the blurb
Young adult fiction featuring gambling, bandits, swordplay, probability and Bayes’ Theorem. An English teacher hopes to engage students with colorful STEM adventures.
“In this outstanding collection, Tom addresses the chronic problem of our young women dropping out of STEM studies. His stories lend adventure to scientific thinking.”
Tom Durwoodis a teacher, writer and editor with an interest in history. Tom most recently taught English Composition and Empire and Literature at Valley Forge Military College, where he won the Teacher of the Year Award five times. Tom has taught Public Speaking and Basic Communications as guest lecturer for the Naval Special Warfare Development Group at the Dam’s Neck Annex of the Naval War College.
Tom’s ebook Empire and Literature matches global works of film and fiction to specific quadrants of empire, finding surprising parallels. Literature, film, art and architecture are viewed against the rise and fall of empire. In a foreword to Empire and Literature, postcolonial scholar Dipesh Chakrabarty of the University of Chicago calls it “imaginative and innovative.” Prof. Chakrabarty writes that “Durwood has given us a thought-provoking introduction to the humanities.” His subsequent book “Kid Lit: An Introduction to Literary Criticism” has been well-reviewed. “My favorite nonfiction book of the year,” writes The Literary Apothecary (Goodreads).
Early reader response to Tom’s historical fiction adventures has been promising. “A true pleasure … the richness of the layers of Tom’s novel is compelling,” writes Fatima Sharrafedine in her foreword to “The Illustrated Boatman’s Daughter.” The Midwest Book Review calls that same adventure “uniformly gripping and educational … pairing action and adventure with social issues.” Adds Prairie Review, “A deeply intriguing, ambitious historical fiction series.”
Tom briefly ran his own children’s book imprint, Calico Books (Contemporary Books, Chicago). Tom’s newspaper column “Shelter” appeared in the North County Times for seven years. Tom earned a Masters in English Literature in San Diego, where he also served as Executive Director of San Diego Habitat for Humanity.
Two of Tom’s books, “Kid Lit” and “The Illustrated Boatman’s Daughter,” were selected “Best of the New” by Julie Sara Porter’s Bookworm Book Alert
The start of a brand-new Cozy Crime series! Welcome to Hopgood Hall.
An unlikely duo…
When investigative journalist, Alexi Ellis, falls victim to cutbacks, she and Cosmo, her anti-social feral cat, head for beautiful Hopgood Hall, where they plan to lick their wounds in the boutique hotel run by her old friends, Cheryl and Drew Hopgood.
A missing woman…
But when she arrives Alexi discovers Cheryl and Drew both distraught. Their close friend, Natalie Parker, who recently settled in the area, has gone missing. Alexi’s sure the woman has just taken a trip somewhere, but she still has a nose for a story and agrees to look into it.
A case to solve!
So too does ex-Met Police detective turned private eye, Jack Maddox. Natalie Parker had been using his sister’s online dating agency and Jack needs to find her before his sister’s business is ruined.
Reluctantly, Alexi, Jack – and Cosmo! – join forces to find out what happened to Natalie. But soon they discover secrets that someone desperately wants to make sure are never revealed!
A Date to Die For by E V Hunter is a fast-paced, modern-day cosy mystery.
The two main characters, well three if we include our side-kick, Cosmo, the cat, are well-sketched. Alexi has run away from her old life in the city to her friends in the country. Jack already has a new life in the country. They’re both city bods, suddenly faced with the world of equestrian shenanigans; one a journalist and one an ex-police officer working as a private investigator. And Cosmo, is well, Cosmo. He’s an unusual cat who likes to travel and has no problem being on a leash.
The author has such an engaging writing style. I actually couldn’t believe how quickly I read the pages, the mystery burbling away as the point of view switches between the two main characters so that the reader gets to know them and begins to unravel the mystery of the disappearance of Natalie, the woman who ran a local flower delivery company, but who hasn’t been seen for days.
Events take a slightly darker turn as the story progresses. The mystery itself is well-developed, and while there is one particular scene that might have every reader shouting, ‘No, don’t do that,’ I found the resolution to be satisfying and twisty enough that I’d never have guessed it.
A twisty, tightly-plotted cosy mystery, with a fabulous writing style. Very enjoyable.
Meet the Author
E.V. Hunter has written a great many successful regency romances as Wendy Soliman and revenge thrillers as Evie Hunter. She is now redirecting her talents to produce cosy murder mysteries. For the past twenty years she has lived the life of a nomad, roaming the world on interesting forms of transport, but has now settled back in the UK.
MJ Porter 