Showing posts with label Anglo-Saxons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Anglo-Saxons. Show all posts

Friday, September 3, 2010

WHERE AM I?

Here’s another passage from one of Jen Black's books, Dark Pool. Simple question, where is Lord Sitric's hearth-hall? Last time we ran an excerpt from one of Jen's books we made it far to easy, so no clues this time.
 
Lord Sitric's hearth-hall was ablaze with light that evening. Hanging lamps lit the centre of the hall and wax and rush candles glowed from each support pillar. Hareth flinched on the threshold. "My eyes hurt," he muttered. "Make them take down the wall hangings."

Finlay glanced around. "It's not the hangings," he said, staring at Sitric's huge personal banner in the middle of the long wall. "He's pinned the sun to the wall. Look."

Hareth squinted up at the huge banner with its silver and gold stitching. It rippled in the up draught of warm air, and reflected the light in a ceaseless dazzle. "How could we have missed that this morning?"

"It certainly comes alive in the light. And here comes our impolite guide from this morning," Finlay said softly, staring across the hall. "I feel I might hit that young man before the night is through."
 
Click 'comment' below to give your answer.

Jen Black's The Dark Pool is the sequel to Banners of Alba and is available as an e-book from Fictionwise.com.

Jen Black's blog
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Saturday, August 21, 2010

WHERE AM I?

The last post was so easy-peasy. This time you'll have to try harder! This is an excerpt from a book I recently reviewed, An Involuntary King by Nan Hawthorne, which is based on a fictitious kingdom on eighth century England's eastern coast. Made up though this kingdom be, as well as the main characters, you do bump into some real historical figures in some intriguing historical locations. So this conversation between a fleeing queen (rescued by a dark and stormy knight - had to get that phrase in) and a monk named Willihad will give you a location clue. So, where is she?

"So I knew I must flee, to save myself and my children. I could see no other way than to let the mercenary lord help me. I could not simply walk out the gates of the stronghold."

"My lady, I credit that, but what concerns me is what you may have implied to the man in exchange."

Josephine turned hot eyes on the monk. "Forgive me, brother, but I made it quite clear that if he thought that my accepting his succor meant he could have me, he should withdraw his offer. Further, I told him that once we arrived wherever he would take me I would not live with him, not in any fashion." She glared, but something made her stop and think. "Oh," she said contritely. "I see. 'Wherever he would take me'."

Willihad' s eyes were warm with understanding. "That is why, my daughter, I wanted to speak with you. I feared you did not realize your own complicity in the elopement."

"It is not an elopement!"

"My lady, methinks you are the only person who knows that."

Josephine sat and thought about what he was saying. Her heart felt torn between what she believed, what she wanted to believe, and what the reality of her situation was.

"I suggest we pray together on this. Shall we do so at the shrine?"

"St. Cuthbert's shrine? Indeed, I should very much like that. I've not had time yet to visit it."

They gathered up the twins and made their way to the shrine of the holy man.  The Bishop and the boys were at the shrine as well.

"Mama, Cutberp!" Tavish cried.

"I was reading some of my verse about the lives of the saints, daughter. They were keen to see the place where one of them, a most holy saint, is buried."

Peter glanced at his mother. "Mama, when they took him out of his tomb he wasn't all rotted!"

The adults laughed softly. "Will you pray at the shrine with us, my boys?" Willihad asked.

Click comment below for your answer. No multiple choice this time. Told you it would be harder...

(There's an interview with Nan Hawthorne posted Wednesday August 18 2010 on this Blog, about how the author copes with blindness in her writing and book reviewing.)
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Sunday, July 4, 2010

WHERE AM I?

Carla Nayland's Paths of Exile is special. Her novel has attracted high praise from none other than popular historical fiction authors Elizabeth Chadwick and Michelle Moran, and we're delighted to feature this extract to show you just how right Chadwick and Moran are.

The speaker is Eadwine, the central character in Paths of Exile. He is trying to comfort his young nephew, Hereric, whose beloved father has just been killed in battle, by describing the glorious afterlife awaiting a fallen warrior. At the end is a pathetically easy question (go on, leave a comment) but we just wanted you to read Carla's rich prose!


"Now the door swings wide. The flames flicker and out of the swirling smoke strides your father. His mail coat glitters. The grey blade of the spear in his hand glints. The red eyes of the boar upon his helmet glow as if alive, defying anyone to harm the man under its protection. On his shield the fire-drakes writhe, blue and red and green. The hilt of his sword, gold and jewelled, flashes in the firelight so that it hurts the eye to look upon it. At his shoulder the brooch on his cloak sparkles. Beside him the slave girl, though a strapping lass, can barely stagger under the weight of gold and silver plate in her arms.


"The skald ceases in his song. All along the mead-benches the warriors stop their talk, fall silent and turn to gaze. Woden's handmaids pause in their serving and stare, nudge one another and whisper. There are great names among the drinkers in that hall, men who were kings here on earth, yet none came there more richly provisioned, nor more noble in his bearing. All eyes follow him as he strides through the hall. Who is he, this tall and handsome man, bearing gifts of such splendour? Surely a king, king of the greatest kingdom on earth.


"He approaches the top table where the gods sit at meat, the three sons of Tiw Allfather who rule the world of the gods. Woden in the centre, an awesome figure more than man-high, his face shrouded, his one eye burning like a coal. Lord Frey on the left, the foster-son, his golden hair bright as the sun. Thunor on the right, his shoulders three times broader than a big man, his red beard flowing over his mighty chest. On the table before him lies his hammer, that forged the earth and has shattered many a giant's skull, and in his hand he holds the whetstone that makes the lightning flash in the skies. You and I, Hereric, would fall in fear before them, but your father has passed the dread gates of death and they hold no terror for him. He stands before Woden as a thane before his king, respectful, admiring, but not servile, a free man among his equals. At his gesture, the slave girl spreads her burden on the table before the gods. They are pleased with the gifts, for though they have many rare and beautiful things, they have nothing finer.


"Woden rises, cloaked in shadow. He is tall, taller than the tallest man, and his head brushes the rafters of that lofty hall. His voice is like the roar of flame in a forest, like the thunder of waves upon a shore. Woden speaks."

Is the setting:
(a) early Anglo-Saxon England
(b) Carolingian France
(c) Iron Age Gaul

Click 'comment' and tell us what you think...
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