I’m really excited to share the details of the Pagan Warrior blog tour with The Coffee Pot Book Club.
Pagan Warrior is the story of the battle of Hædfeld, fought in the seventh century between the Northumbrians, and you got it, the Mercians – or rather, Cadwallon of Gwynedd but with Penda of Mercia as his firm ally. You can find more details here.
I might have written this book many years ago, but it’s had a refresh, and is now available in audio, narrated by the fabulous, Matt Coles, as is the second book, Pagan King. Warrior King will be coming later this year in audio. For this second week, 20th March-25th March, the ebook of Pagan King (book 2) is reduced globally to 99p/99c and equivalent. Follow the link below.
I’ve also, finally, managed to get book three, Warrior King, uploaded to all good ebook platforms, and they will be going live during this week. Kobo have so far won the competition. Use this link, which I will be updating, or try the one above, and hopefully, Warrior King will be linked to Pagan King as well. It means Warrior King is also available in hardcover from Amazon.
You can follow the blog tour, and I’ll be sharing posts here as well. A quick shout out to thank all the blog hosts and Cathie at The Coffee Pot Book Club for organising.
For today (March 21st) check out a post about two of the royal residences of Bernicia at the time, Bamburgh and Ad Gefrin (Yeavering). (There are lots of photos, thank you to Helen Hollick for uploading them all).
My latest release, King of Kings, is a tale of five kings, and one enemy. But what was the background in what we would now know as England?
The tenth-century sees the creation of what we would recognise as ‘England’ – the combining of Wessex with Mercia, with the additions of Kent, the kingdom of the East Angles, the Danish Five Boroughs, and the kingdom of York, and also the independent kingdom of Bamburgh. But telling this story is complex. When people think of England, they might not know all these smaller kingdoms. They might not know, particularly, what the Danish Five Boroughs (Leicester, Nottingham, Lincoln, Stamford and Derby), were because if you google the Five Boroughs, you’ll be told about New York (this has happened to me).
Everybody knows about King Alfred of Wessex holding back the tide of the advancing Viking raiders throughout his reign from 874-899. And if everybody didn’t know before, then Uhtred, Bernard Cornwell’s Saxon warrior, has done much to ensure we know about it now.
But again, it’s not quite so simple. The Saxon kingdoms of the seventh century onwards numbered seven, alongside Wessex, there was also Kent, Mercia, the kingdom of the East Angles, Northumbria, Essex and Sussex. These kingdoms eventually merged to give us just Wessex, Mercia, Kent, the kingdom of the East Angles and Northumbria (which itself comprised of two kingdoms, Deira centred on York, and Bernicia, centred on Bamburgh). So, all seems clear there? But no.
When the Viking raiders began their concerted attacks on Britain in the late ninth century, Alfred of Wessex promulgated a treaty with one of their leaders, Guthrum, forging an independent kingdom of the Viking raiders, which stretched along something known as the Alfred-Guthrum line. Loosely, this meant that land to the east was in the control of the Viking raiders. All that survived of those kingdoms south of the Humber was Wessex and the western part of Mercia. The Viking raiders had already overrun Northumbria. The kingdom of Jorvik, centred on York, was part of a Dublin/York kingship, where the kings of York/Jorvik had often already been the king of Dublin, and this kingship was firmly in the hands of a family claiming descent from Ivarr (the Boneless), one of the men who’d led the concerted Viking raider attacks of the 860s and 870s which we might find termed The Great Heathen Army.
Map designed by Flintlock Covers
This, then, reimagined what we think of as England and these Saxon kingdoms weren’t the only ones to face attack from the Viking raiders. The many Welsh kingdoms shared sea borders with the Dublin Norse, and the small kingdom of Manx (the Isle of Man) became incredibly important, as did all of the islands that surround western and northern Scotland. Orkney, at this time, was settled by the Norse.
When Alfred died in 899, he was king of Wessex. His son, Edward, would become king of the Anglo-Saxons, ruling over Wessex and Kent, and then after the death of his sister, Æthelflæd, the Lady of Mercia, staking his claim to western Mercia as well as those parts of the Five Boroughs, essentially Norse held lands, known as the Danelaw, which Æthelflæd had ‘won’ back for Mercia.
‘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.’[i]
This was a time of intense unease, almost constant warfare. And not everyone was happy about the advances the surviving Wessex royal family made. Edward died at Farndon, in Mercia, perhaps putting down a Mercian rebellion or, a Welsh one. Farndon wasn’t far from the border with the Welsh kingdoms.
But Edward’s death, and the subsequent death of his son Ælfweard only sixteen days later, brought about a sea change. Ælfweard wasn’t Edward’s oldest son; that was Athelstan, a youth seemingly banished to live with his aunt in Mercia when Edward remarried (if the later pseudo-historian, William of Malmesbury is to be believed who makes the claim that it was Alfred’s wish that Athelstan be brought up in ‘the court of his daughter Æthelflæd and Æthelred his son in law.’[ii]
Athelstan was immediately recognised as the king of Mercia. Not long afterwards, he also became king of Wessex. And his ambitions didn’t stop there.
‘Here King Edward died at Farndon in Mercia; and very soon, 16 days after, his son Ælfweard died at Oxford; and their bodies lie at Winchester. And Athelstan was chosen as king by the Mercians and consecrated at Kingston.’[iii]
It’s difficult to imagine that Athelstan wasn’t a warrior of fierce renown. His aunt and uncle, the lord and lady of Mercia, had spent much of their rule, both together, and then after Æthelred’s death, Æthelflæd had continued alone, driving back the incursion of the Viking raiders, or the Norse as it might be easier to term them. Athelstan must surely have taken his place in these battles. And yet, while he was eager to hold tightly to the kingdoms of Mercia, Kent and Wessex, he was also prepared to unite people through peace, and this is where the story, King of Kings, begins. With Athelstan, the first crowned king of the English.
[i] Swanton, M. trans and edit The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles, (Orion Publishing Group, 2000), p.105
[ii] Mynors, R.A.B. ed and trans, completed by Thomson, R.M. and Winterbottom, M. Gesta Regvm Anglorvm, The History of the English Kings, William of Malmesbury, (Clarendon Press, 1998), p.211
[iii] Swanton, M. trans and edit The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles, (Orion Publishing Group, 2000), D text p.105
(I’m re-sharing an old post which I’ve amended slightly, and added some new graphics).
England, Wales, Scotland, the smaller kingdoms of Mercia, Wessex, Northumbria, East Anglia, Kent, Powys, Gwynedd, Dal Riada – for the uninitiated (including myself) the sheer number of kingdoms and kings that peopled the period in British history before 1066 can appear as a bewildering display of names, places, times and events, and perhaps never more so than when a historian is trying to sell a book and so makes a statement in their title that applies to that particular king.
Map designed by Flintlock Covers
Phrases such ‘the Golden Age of Northumbria’, ‘the Mercian hegemony’, ‘the rise of Wessex’, they all mask so many events that I find the phrases very unhelpful and perhaps worse, misleading.
I think that Athelstan and his younger half brother, Edmund, probably deserve their titles as Kings of the English. And it’s not just my opinion either. There was, according to Sarah Foot in her book on Athelstan, a concerted effort by the king and his bishops to have him stand apart from his predecessors – to be something ‘different’ to them. They named him king of the English, not king of Mercia (a post he held briefly before another of his younger brothers died) and not king of Wessex, for all that he was both of those things.
They changed his title, they crowned him with a crown, not a helmet. They wanted Athelstan to be something other than his grandfather, King Alfred, and his father, King Edward. It was a bold statement to make, and one they continued when Athelstan died too young and his half-brother, Edmund replaced him. He too was crowned using, it must be supposed, the same Coronation service. (For full details have a peek at Sarah Foot’s book on Athelstan – or read the first few chapters of King of Kings as the service appears in it as well).
So why the change? Essentially the old Saxon kingdoms, for all that they were preserved in the naming of the earls/ealdormens designations, had been swept aside by the Viking raiders. The old kingdoms had become a handy label to apply to certain geographic areas, and the kings of Wessex, whilst keen to hold onto their hereditary titles because of the permanence their own royal line had managed to acquire, were equally as keen to do away with regional boundaries. There was, it can’t be denied, a concerted and almost unrelenting urge to drive any Viking raider or Dane or Norwegian (the Norse) from British soil, and this is what Athelstan and then Edmund were tasked with doing.
Yet the idea of ‘English’ wasn’t a new concept. Why else would Bede have called his great piece of religious historical writing “The Ecclesiastical History of the English people’, if there hadn’t been a shared consciousness that the people in England, all be it in their separate kingdoms, didn’t have a shared heritage? Why the idea suddenly took flight under King Athelstan could be attributed to a new sense of confidence in Wessex and Mercia at the time. They were confident that they could beat the Viking raiders and they were convinced that England belonged to them.
Or perhaps it was more than that? The destruction wrought by the Viking raiders on the separate kingdoms must have been a stark reminder of just how insular the kingdoms had become, and the Viking raiders showed everyone just how easy it was to run roughshod over the individual kingdoms. Only in unity could the Saxon kingdoms of England survive another onslaught; only with unity could the Saxons hold onto their kingdoms they’d claimed about 500 years before.
It was a message that was learned quickly and taken to heart. Athelstan worked to reunite more of the Saxon kingdoms with the growing ‘England’, and he tried to do so by both diplomacy and through war. Yet, the Viking raiders hadn’t finished with England, and nor were they her only enemies. This also lies at the heart of Athelstan’s ‘masterplan’ his treaty of Eamont (if it truly happened – Benjamin Hudson in his Celtic Scotland is not convinced). Athelstan wanted to be a mighty king, but he also wanted England, and the wider Britain (also a concept already understood otherwise why else would that cantankerous monk – Gildas – have called his even earlier work than Bede’s “On the Ruin of Britain?”) to be united in their attempts to repel the Viking raiders. He was a man with a keen vision of the future and it was a vision that his brother continued, with slightly different direction and results.
Family Tree designed by Boldwood Books
The ‘English Kings” saw safety in unity, and of course, an increase in the power they held went hand-in-hand with that.
Yet at no point during the Saxon period can it be said that the emergence of ‘England’ as we know it, was a given certainty. Throughout the period other great kings had tried to claim sovereignty over other kingdoms, but never with any permanence. The earlier, regional kings, were powerful within their own lifetimes and within their own regions. Few, if any, were able to pass on their patrimony complete upon their death. This was a time of personal kingship, and it was only under Athelstan and Edmund that the leap was taken away from this to a more permanent power base.
Not that it was a smooth transition and it did have the side-effect of allowing other men, those not related to the royal family, to evolve their own individual power bases in the old Saxon kingdoms. The ‘English’ kings had to do more than just rule their own kingdom, they had to rule their ealdormen and earls, their warriors, bishops and archbishops. The number of names of kings might start to deplete in the after math of Athelstan and Edmund’s kingship, but in their place spring up more and more powerful men, men that these English kings had to rely on.
Becoming King of the English was very much a mixed blessing, bringing with it new and greater responsibilities and more, it brought with it the need to expand personal government further, to have a greater persona to broadcast.
Love, Loss and Life In Between is a really lovely collection of short stories focusing on acceptance, moving on and recovery. I confess, I feared the stories might be upsetting, but they really weren’t. I was lucky enough to read the ebook last year, but now I’ve listened to the brand new audio as well. I really enjoy the option to listen as well as read books, especially ones I’ve read before.
Garden Therapy, with its slight otherworldliness was delightful, and A Mermaid’s Tale was a beautiful account of a young girl coming to terms with the loss of her mother, whereas Catalyst was quite edgy. Not Just for Christmas is a tale many pet owners with feel resonates with them.
This really was a delightful collection of short stories. The author has a lovely turn of phrase and manages to evoke strong feelings in her characters which make them believable, so that in only a few words the reader is already rooting for them.
Highly recommended, as was the author’s previous short story collection, of which you can find the review here.
The audio adds a delightful new dimension to these short stories. The narrator, Sandie Keane, has a lovely warm tone, and manages these uplifting and sorrowful tales with real compassion and understanding. Highly enjoyable.
Meet the author
Suzanne lives in Middlesex, England with her husband, two teenagers, a crazy cocker spaniel and an adopted cat that thinks she’s the boss.
Suzanne’s writing journey began at the age of twelve when she completed her first novel. She discovered the fantasy genre in her late teens and has never looked back. Giving up work to raise a family gave her the impetus to take her attempts at novel writing beyond the first draft, and she is lucky enough to have a husband who supports her dream – even if he does occasionally hint that she might think about getting a proper job one day.
Now an author of four novels including the Silent Sea Chronicles trilogy and her debut, Visions of Zarua, Suzanne hopes the dreaded ‘W’ word will never rear its ugly head again!
She loves gardening and has a Hebe (shrub) fetish. She enjoys cooking with ingredients from the garden and regularly feeds unsuspecting guests vegetable-based cakes.
She collects books, is interested in history and enjoys wandering around castles and old ruins whilst being immersed in the past. She likes to combine her love of nature and photography on family walks, but most of all she loves to escape with a great film, binge watch TV shows, or soak in a hot bubble bath with an ice cream and a book.
Having attended Drama school in Liverpool as a teenager Sandie moved into a variety of jobs varying from Hotel Management/Merseyside Police/Motherhood to name just a few but for 25 years she taught worldwide as a Pilates Tutor Trainer.
During lockdown Sandie’s interest turned to Audiobooks and it was from there she embarked on her own journey as an Audiobook Narrator.
I’m sharing an excerpt from Run with the Hare, Hunt with the Hound by Paul Duffy.
Underworld
I was still young when the fulcrum began its pitch. Fortune’s wheel clanking around in its inscrutable way. It was the year that the sky ships were seen in Ard Macha. A silver host, spectral and gold illuminated the heavens, emerging from the cloud with their glistening sails and their ghostly hosts peering down, blazing with light on the men below who shrank from them in terror. And in that year also, the crozier of the bishop of Cluin Ioraird spoke to its owner, words of radiance and doom setting the kingdom alight.
Though we saw no such miracles to presage coming things, the Tiarna had a dream. He saw a great light rise from the mound on Cnuc Bán. A sídhemound guarding the high pass over the valley and below – a stag belling, a wild dog of two colours devouring a heron’s nest and above, a sun rising in the west, spreading brightness over a darkened east. A weapon shining at the heart of the mound. A weapon of immense power.
The Tiarna ignored the words of his wife and councillors, he disregarded his ollamh, he closed his house to the monk and chewed his thumb long into the night. Night after night ruminating beside ashen fires, forging his resolve. Until, one darkening day, he sat on his horse commanding the unthinkable. Watching us scrabble and shift moss-thick stones from the ancient cairn. We worked in silence, frantic in our task, working to quieten the dread that rang out in each of our heads. To stave off the flesh-creep as hour after hour, we watched the sun pass its peak and begin to drop away westwards over the shoulder of the cairn. The mound’s passive bulk thrumming with threat, and the geis-breaking sound of stones rolling free, rising to swallow everything else. Swallowing the champ of the standing horses, the rare lilts of the wind through the woodland below, the keening of buzzards circling. We cast the stones out beyond the kerbing into the heather, hoping they would land soft. Flinching at each cracking strike as they collided with hidden rock among the furze. Dread and skeletal hands clenching slowly within our skulls as the darkness thickened in the east.
‘Ho,’ Lochru cried out – the first human sound in hours and he came around the curve of the mound, his palsied face white, his hands trembling. He motioned to the Tiarna who urged his horse onwards. Tuar, his ollamh and the monk, Milesius cantering on also. We all followed to where the youth Fiacra stood, unnaturally still, his eyes fixed upon something in the scree. With great reluctance, he raised his hand and pointed at an opening which showed amongst the loose stone. Two rough pillars leaning towards each other, forming a narrow doorway as wide as the span between fist and elbow.
We stood steaming in the cold. Shudders passed among us and Milesius, hand on the psalter hanging in a satchel at his side, mumbled Latin incantations. The Tiarna gazed coldly. He looked to where his son, Conn stood by, leaning on a spear. I saw the subtle question in the Tiarna’s eye. I saw Conn’s face lowering to the ground, refusing the wordless request and, to disguise Conn’s refusal, the Tiarna’s voice came sudden and barking.
‘Send in the Sasanach,’ he said without looking in my direction and my bowels dropped within me. I stared ahead at the terrible and absolute blackness, a blackness that inhaled the failing light, and did not move. Lochru came towards me, grabbing my arm and pulling me past him with a blow that cupped the back of my skull. I staggered forward, feet twisting among the stones, and fell to my knees before the doorway, backing instantly, as if from a wild beast. I looked to the Tiarna on his horse and Milesius at his side. Their faces as hard as the stone of the hill. I breathed through my nose, a forceful breath. Another. And another. I made the sign of the cross, rose, commending myself to God and the Saints Patricius, Féichin, Lasair and stepped forward.
I moved towards the dragging blackness. Towards the mouth of the underworld. Towards the realm of the sídhe. I approached as if approaching cold water, step by step, clenching something deep within. My hand reached out to touch a pillar and its frigid surface drew the warmth from me. I turned side-on, a welling panic, though I did not stop. I slid my shoulder into the gap and pushed my chest through, feeling the pillars scrape at once along my spine and breastbone. I dipped my head, without looking back and entered the dark.
The space within forced me to crawl and I advanced blindly, my bulk blocking the light from the opening. The stones pressed in all around so that I could neither stand nor turn. Pools of water splashed beneath me, a dead air, stale in my lungs. My eyes moved wildly around, though nothing changed in the depthless dark. Hands slipped and scraped and I struck my head frequently on the uneven roof. Yet I moved, and in moving there was hope.
Here’s the blurb
On a remote Gaelic farmstead in medieval Ireland, word reaches Alberic of conquering Norman knights arriving from England. Oppressed by the social order that enslaved his Norman father, he yearns for the reckoning he believes the invaders will bring—but his world is about to burn. Captured by the Norman knight Hugo de Lacy and installed at Dublin Castle as a translator, Alberic’s confused loyalties are tested at every turn. When de Lacy marches inland, Alberic is set on a collision course with his former masters amidst rumours of a great Gaelic army rising in the west. Can Alberic navigate safely through revenge, lust and betrayal to find his place amidst the birth of a kingdom in a land of war?
Paul Duffy, author of Run with the Hare, Hunt with the Hound (2022), is one of Ireland’s leading field archaeologists and has directed numerous landmark excavations in Dublin as well as leading projects in Australia, France and the United Kingdom.
He has published and lectured widely on this work, and his books include From Carrickfergus to Carcassonne—the Epic Deeds of Hugh de Lacy during the Cathar Crusade (2018) and Ireland and the Crusades (2021). He has given many talks and interviews on national and international television and radio (RTÉ, BBC, NPR, EuroNews).
Paul has also published several works of short fiction (Irish Times, Causeway/Cathsair, Outburst, Birkbeck Writer’s Hub) and in 2015 won the Over the Edge New Writer of the Year Award. He has been shortlisted for numerous Irish and international writing prizes and was awarded a writing bursary in 2017–2018 by Words Ireland.
I’m really excited to share the details of the Pagan Warrior blog tour with The Coffee Pot Book Club.
Pagan Warrior is the story of the battle of Hædfeld, fought in the seventh century between the Northumbrians, and you got it, the Mercians – or rather, Cadwallon of Gwynedd but with Penda of Mercia as his firm ally. You can find more details here.
I might have written this book many years ago, but it’s had a refresh, and is now available in audio, narrated by the fabulous, Matt Coles, as is the second book, Pagan King. Warrior King will be coming later this year in audio. For this first week, 13th March-19th March, the ebook of Pagan Warrior is reduced globally. Follow the link below.
You can follow the blog tour, and I’ll be sharing posts here as well. A quick shout out to thank all the blog hosts and Cathie at The Coffee Pot Book Club for organising.
For today, March 14th, check out my author interview over on Archaeolibrarian.
The Scots of Dalriada takes place in 5th century Ireland and Scotland and tells the fictional story of the legendary king Fergus Mór. Recorded Irish history begins with the introduction of Christianity and Latin literacy, beginning in the 5th century. Most of my research however, relied on sources written much later. First and foremost, Studies in the History of Dalriada by John Bannerman.
Published in 1974 this book is no longer in print but can be purchased second-hand.
My research of the Dalriada began fifteen years ago when I discovered that my ancestors descended from the Dalriada. History is compelling, especially when your own ancestors are involved, and the stories around the Dalriada didn’t let me go. I had to wait three years to obtain a copy of this book but it was definitely worth it, as it is much more comprehensive and detailed than anything to be found on the net.
It amazed me that St. Patrick was kidnapped as a teenager and sold to the Dalriada. He stayed with them, working as a shepherd on the exposed hills of Slemish until he miraculously escaped. When he returned to Ireland in his role as missionary, his first self-imposed duty was to convert the Dalriadians, despite bitter opposition from the druids.
See my first book from this period about the life of St.Patrick, Patron Saint of Ireland.
The Missionary
Although both books take place in 5th century Ireland, they are entirely independent of each other.
5th century Ireland and Scotland is at the end of the Iron Age and beginning of the early Medieval Age. This period includes an expansion of the Dalriada clan to Western Scotland. Ireland, at the time, was divided into many small baronies, each ruled by an underking. Life was dominated by a myriad of petty wars, neighbouring clans were constantly under attack from each other, stealing cattle and crop and encroaching upon each other’s land.
The Dalriada was situated in the utmost North East of Ireland, composed of much that is presently known as Antrim. To the North and East their territory was bordered by the North Channel and the Irish Sea. To the South and West, by the aggressive tribes of the Northern Uí Néill, the Dál Fiatach and the Dál nAraide, who continually attacked the Dalriada. So it was only natural that the Dalriada sought to expand their kingdom across the North Channel.
These background facts form the setting for my, mainly fictional, novel about Fergus. The book covers his life from roughly 440 to 501 AD, when his ship is sea wrecked, and he is succeeded by his son Domangart.
By that time the Dalriada have conquered Argyll (“Coast of the Gaels”) and built their chief stronghold and trading centre at Dunadd. The hillfort of Dunadd is believed to have been their capital. Other royal forts included Dunollie, Dunaverty and Dunseverick. Within Dalriada was the important monastery of Iona, which played a key role in the spread of Celtic Christianity throughout northern Britain, and in the development of insular art. Iona was a centre of learning and produced many important manuscripts. Dalriada had a strong seafaring culture and a large naval fleet.
Scotland is said to have been founded by the legendary king Fergus Mór (Fergus the Great) in the 5th century. Heavy onslaughts from the Picts checked the Dalriada on the Scottish mainland. In the 8th century the Dalriada gradually declined; and after the Viking invasions early in the 9th century, it lost all political identity. In the mid-9th century its king Kenneth I MacAlpin brought the Picts and Scoti (the Roman name for the Irish Gaels) permanently together, and thereafter the whole country was known as Scotland.
More books that I read to complement my research:
A Brief History of Ireland by Richard Killeen
Ireland’s Forgotten Past: A History of the Overlooked and Disremembered by Turtle Bunbury
A History of Scotland by Neil Oliver
Scotland: History of a Nation by David Ross
The Book of Celtic Myths: From the Mystic Might of the Celtic Warriors to the Magic of the Fey Folk, the Storied History and Folklore of Ireland, Scotland, Brittany, and Wales by Adams Media
Satellite image of Scotland and Northern Ireland showing the approximate greatest extent of Dál Riata (shaded). The mountainous spine which separates the east and west coasts of Scotland can be seen.
Ancient hill fort at Dunadd
Here’s the blurb
THREE BROTHERS Fergus, Loarn and Angus, Princes of the Dalriada, are forced into exile by their scheming half-brother and the druidess Birga One-tooth.
THREE FATES Fergus conceals himself as a stable lad on Aran and falls helplessly in love with a Scottish princess, already promised to someone else. Loarn crosses swords against the Picts. Angus designs longboats.
TOGETHER A MIGHTY POWER Always on the run the brothers must attempt to outride their adversaries by gaining power themselves. Together they achieve more than they could possibly dream of. Fergus Mór (The Great) is widely recognised as the first King of Scotland, giving Scotland its name and its language. Rulers of Scotland and England from Kenneth mac Alpín until the present time claim descent from Fergus Mór.
Full of unexpected twists and turns, this is a tale of heart-breaking love amidst treachery, deceit and murder.
Rowena Kinread grew up in Ripon, Yorkshire with her large family and a horde of pets. Keen on travelling, her first job was with Lufthansa in Germany.
She began writing in the nineties. Her special area of interest is history. After researching her ancestry and finding family roots in Ireland with the Dalriada clan, particularly this era.
Her debut fiction novel titled “The Missionary” is a historical novel about the dramatic life of St. Patrick. It was published by Pegasus Publishers on Apr.29th, 2021 and has been highly appraised by The Scotsman, The Yorkshire Post and the Irish Times.
Her second novel “The Scots of Dalriada” centres around Fergus Mór, the founder father of Scotland and takes place in 5th century Ireland and Scotland. It is due to be published by Pegasus Publishers on Jan.26th, 2023.
The author lives with her husband in Bodman-Ludwigshafen, Lake Constance, Germany. They have three children and six grandchildren.
January 1972. The Christmas and New Year holiday is over and it is time to go back to work. Newly engaged to Detective Sergeant Laurence Walker, library assistant Jan Christopher is eager to show everyone her diamond ring, and goes off on her scheduled round to deliver library books to the housebound – some of whom she likes; some, she doesn’t.
She encounters a cat in a cupboard, drinks several cups of tea… and loses her ring. When two murders are committed, can Jan help her policeman uncle, DCI Toby Christopher and her fiancé, Laurie, discover whether murder was a deliberate deed – or a tragic mistake?
Buy Links
This title is available to read on #KindleUnlimited.
First accepted for traditional publication in 1993, Helen became a USA Today Bestseller with her historical novel, The Forever Queen (titled A Hollow Crown in the UK) with the sequel, Harold the King (US: I Am The Chosen King) being novels that explore the events that led to the Battle of Hastings in 1066.
Her Pendragon’s Banner Trilogy is a fifth-century version of the Arthurian legend, and she writes a nautical adventure/fantasy series, The Sea Witch Voyages. She has also branched out into the quick read novella, ‘Cosy Mystery’ genre with her Jan Christopher Murder Mysteries, set in the 1970s, with the first in the series, A Mirror Murderincorporating her, often hilarious, memories of working as a library assistant.
Her non-fiction books are Pirates: Truth and Tales and Life of A Smuggler. She lives with her family in an eighteenth-century farmhouse in North Devon, England, and occasionally gets time to write…
I’m delighted to welcome Trish MacEnulty to the blog with a guest post about her books.
Lesbians in the Early 20th Century — Branded as Deviants and Sometimes Jailed!
In my series, the Delafield & Malloy Investigations, one of my main characters — Ellen Malloy, an Irish immigrant — is a lesbian. As soon as she appeared on the page, she let me know in no uncertain terms that the expectation of marriage was the main reason she had left Ireland to become a servant for a wealthy family in Manhattan. Well, that didn’t work out either, but eventually she found her way and fell in love with a suffragist.
What would life be like for a lesbian in New York in 1913? I had no idea. The lives of gay men and the indignities they suffered in the late 19th and early 20th centuries has been widely documented — Oscar Wilde made sure of that! All the while, lesbians unobtrusively managed to find love and companionship in spite of the fact that their existence was rarely acknowledged.
In her fascinating academic tome, A Novel Approach to Lesbian History, Linda Garber writes “The historical records, if they exist at all, frustrate as often as they inform. Spotty, written by men, open to multiple interpretations—traces of a recognizably lesbian past run aground on the rocky shoals of the history of sexuality itself.” (3)
Fortunately, in the early 20th Century, the Bohemians of Greenwich Village had the freedom to live ‘unconventional’ lifestyles somewhat openly. In the Village, tea rooms provided space for women to meet each other away from the disapproving eye of society. On a recent tour of Greenwich Village with the Bowery Boys, I was shown one of the basement entrances for a former tea room. In those days, according to legend, it bore a sign that read, “Men are admitted but not welcome.”
Picture of basement, photo by me
Of course, the police knew about these places. In her autobiography, Mary Sullivan, one of the first police matrons to do actual police work, wrote, “A few tearooms run by women with a fondness for college girl patronage really were a menace…”
She added, “One of the most difficult types of degenerate with whom we have to deal is the woman with homosexual tendencies.” The police department received a complaint about “indecent literature” on sale in one of the tea rooms and a proprietess who “tried to entice girl students from a nearby college.” So Sullivan and one of her female colleagues set out to entrap the proprietess.
They visited the tea room, and the other police woman accepted a date from the proprietess, a woman named Billie. After trying to kiss the woman while on their date, Billie was arrested and then convicted of “disorderly conduct and distributing obscene literature.” She was sentenced to six months in the workhouse. Her tea room was closed. (Interestingly, this is the same scenario which happened later to activist Eve Adams; it may be the stories are conflated.)
Sullivan didn’t think jailing women with “homosexual tendencies” was the solution, however. “There is no doubt in my mind that they should be treated primarily as medical and psychiatric cases, though we still have to learn about the method of treatment.” Well, we all know where that eventually led: the horrors of conversion therapy!
picture of Sullivan’s book, photo by me
Not all lesbians kept quiet or hid their preferences. Polish-born Eve Adams arrived in New York in 1912 when she was twenty years old. In 1925, she wrote and published a book called Lesbian Love “for private circulation only.” Two years later she was arrested for obscenity and disorderly conduct and deported.
There’s an excellent book about Adams, titled The Daring Life and Dangerous Times of Eve Adams by Jonathan Ned Katz. In 1912, according to Katz, the term lesbian did not always signify a sexual relationship between women. It could simply refer to a community of women. For example, a women’s college newspaper in Maryland was called the Lesbian Herald. From everything I’ve read, the common term, at the time, for gays and lesbians was “invert.”
With this and other research in hand, I felt I could do justice to Ellen’s story in her quest for love and fulfillment. This scene is the moment Ellen first sees the women with whom she later falls in love in The Whispering Women as she is looking through the window of a teahouse in Greenwich Village:
“The tables were occupied by women of various ages and classes who seemed engrossed in conversations. One woman in particular caught her eye. She looked to be in her late twenties, big boned with a narrow face, an affable smile, and big brown eyes under thick eyebrows. Ellen could tell by her tailored gray jacket she had money, but she wasn’t showy. A strand of pearls hung carelessly around her neck. A feeling swept over Ellen like a dull ache — the kind of ache you don’t want to stop. The woman laughed at something her companion said. Ellen swiveled her head to look at the companion. Small, blond, and delicately holding her tea cup. When the woman with the pearls got up to get some more tea, Ellen saw the blond woman glance out the window and wave a handkerchief. Curiously, Ellen looked around. Two men stood across the street, smoking cigarettes with their eyes fixed on the window of the tea shop. Police, Ellen knew immediately.”
Thank you for sharing such a fascinating post. Good luck with your series.
Blurb:
“Richly drawn characters, the vibrant historical setting, and a suspenseful mystery create a strong current that pulls readers into this delightful novel. But it’s the women’s issues—as relevant today as they were in the early 1900s—that will linger long after the last page.”
— Donna S. Meredith, The Southern Literary Review
Can two women get the lowdown on high society?
“Two powerless young women must navigate a soul-crushing class system and find the levers of power they wield when they combine their strengths. These women may have been taught to whisper, but when their time comes, they will roar.”
– 5 Star Amazon Review
Louisa Delafield and Ellen Malloy didn’t ask to be thrown together to bring the truth to light. But after Ellen witnesses the death of a fellow servant during an illegal abortion, Louisa, a society columnist, vows to help her find the truth and turn her journalistic talent to a greater purpose.
Together, these unlikely allies battle to get the truth out, and to avenge the wrongful death of a friend.
What will our heroes do when their closest allies and those they trust turn out to be the very forces working to keep their story in the dark? They’ll face an abortionist, a sex trafficking ring, and a corrupt system determined to keep the truth at bay.
“If you like historical fiction and if you like mysteries, this one is for you!”
– 5 Star Amazon Review
Was change possible in 1913?
To find out, read THE WHISPERING WOMEN today!
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The books in this series are available to read on Kindle Unlimited.
Trish MacEnulty is a bestselling novelist. In addition to her historical fiction, she has published novels, a short story collection, and a memoir. A former Professor of English, she currently lives in Florida with her husband, two dogs, and one cat. She writes book reviews and feature articles for the Historical Novel Review. She loves reading, writing, walking with her dogs, streaming historical series, cooking, and dancing.
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.
MJ Porter 