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Shadow of the Raven
Sons
of Kings Volume 1
by
Millie Thom
Genre:
Epic Fantasy
The life of Eadwulf, ten-year old son
of the Mercian king, is changed forever when his family is betrayed
to the Danes by his treacherous uncle. In a devastating Danish raid,
his father is killed, his mother raped, and along with his tutor and
childhood friend, Eadwulf is captured and taken to the Danish lands
to be sold as a slave.
As a slave in Jarl Ragnar’s village,
Eadwulf’s life is hard, his days unbearably long. But on the return
of Ragnar’s eldest son, Bjorn, from his summer raids, his life
begins to change. Eadwulf spends the next few years aboard Bjorn’s
beloved dragonship, sailing to places he’d never dreamed of,
trading and raiding. And although still a slave, he becomes a
well-respected member of Bjorn’s closely knit crew. Yet through it
all, the smouldering desire for revenge on those who destroyed his
family refuses to abate.
Eadwulf’s story plays out against the
backdrop of events unfolding in Wessex in the face of increasing
Danish raids. Alfred, the youngest son of the Wessex king, faces
family tragedies from an early age, losing first his mother, then his
beloved sister when she is married to the new Mercian king: Eadwulf’s
treacherous uncle. At his father’s court and the successive courts
of his elder brothers, he learns the weighty art of kingship. And,
like Eadwulf, he learns the harshest lesson of all … that a trusted
kinsman can so easily turn traitor.
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The
snorting and stomping of the horses was the first indication that
anything was amiss, then the panicked shouts; the reek of smoke
assailing their nostrils only moments later. They hurtled to the
stable door, aware that it could take barely minutes for wood and
thatch to burn to a crisp, and reeled in horror. Searing waves of
heat smacked into them. The hall was ablaze, its heavy thatch ready
to collapse; angry red flames lashed at the wood-planked walls.
People collided with each other, precious water slopping from their
pails as they raced to quell the towering flames. Yapping, terrified
dogs added to the pandemonium.
Sigehelm
crossed himself, uttering a prayer for anyone trapped inside the
blazing hall. ‘Eadwulf; Aethelnoth; stay close to me,’ he
ordered, grabbing Aethelnoth’s arm as the boy turned to lead the
horses to safety. ‘The stables are far enough away to be safe for
now. If need be, I’ll loose the horses when you’re both safe with
Morwenna. But may the Lord help these other buildings. The kitchens
will probably soon be ablaze. We must hurry. I must help to fetch
water.’
It
was then that the Danes struck.
Yowling
men stampeded through the palisade’s main gate, their entrance
unchallenged as people fought to control the blaze. Yet they had
needed neither to burn down nor scale the palisade wall. The gates
must have already been open – despite Thrydwulf’s insistence that
they be kept locked and guarded.
Frenzied
screams escalated. Sigehelm yanked Eadwulf and Aethelnoth behind the
kitchens and, stooping low, they headed for the women’s bower.
Suddenly Eadwulf froze. Burgred stood outside the bower’s door –
and something about that was so very wrong.
‘Eadwulf,
in God’s name, child, we cannot stand and stare. We must reach your
mother and try to flee from the manor.’
‘Burgred’s
a traitor, Sigehelm! He was meeting them in the woods. And he must
have started the fire: the hall was ablaze before the Danes came
through the gate. He must have opened that for them too. . .’
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Pit of Vipers
Sons
of Kings Volume 2
The ninth century story of King Alfred
of Wessex and Eadwulf of Mercia continues to unfold against the ever
increasing threat of Danish raids. After years as a slave to the
Danes, Eadwulf has returned to his Mercian homeland and settles to a
life of calm domesticity, marred only by his incessant desire for
revenge. His frequent absences from his new home, connected to his
past life, threaten to destroy the relationships he has fostered and
alienate the family he has come to love.
In Wessex, Alfred, now a young man, has
spent his childhood at the successive courts of his father and four
older brothers, learning the skills of diplomacy and leadership.
Before too long those skills will be put to the test…
The Danish invasion of the Anglo-Saxon
kingdoms is merciless and relentless. Every year more Norse ships
come to join their comrades in a quest to plunder for wealth and gain
control over the people. The Danes take kingdom after kingdom and
Alfred and his brother Aethelred wait with baited breath for them to
set their sights on Wessex. By 869, their worst fear is realised.
And Eadwulf follows vital leads to the
objects of his revenge.
Preparing
to do battle…
Alfred
moved along his own front line, noting that most of the fyrd carried
spears, though the pitchforks and staffs amongst them would not fare
well against the heavy swords and battle axes of the foe. Body armour
was light. Some wore leather jerkins, others thinly quilted
gambesons, and most heads were protected by a leather helmet. Better
than nothing, he thought grimly, acutely aware of the protective
qualities of his own mailshirt and helm.
‘On
my order, the front line becomes an impenetrable wall of tightly
locked shields,’ he shouted above the clamour for the benefit of
the new recruits. ‘Shields overlap, left over right.’ His arm
swung round to the sides. ‘You five men at each end of the lines –
and those at the back – will do likewise if need be. And should a
man in the line in front of you fall, you step over his body and take
his place...
‘You’ll
be fighting for your lives, not mourning the dead!’ he snapped at
the appalled faces, ‘as well as the lives of the men around you.
Thrust and stab through the gaps between the shields with your
weapons. Aim for exposed flesh – face, legs, even spaces between
armour covering chest, belly, or groin. Your purpose is to kill or
maim.’ He swept the men with a commanding stare. ‘We fight as an
ordered unit, and no one leaves
that formation unless the wall becomes irrevocably destroyed. Only
then do we resort to individual combat. Is all of that clear?’
Alfred
took his position at the centre of the front line, between two
experienced warriors, Ealdormen Wybert and Unwine.
The
racket abruptly ceased. Warriors stood rigid, muscles flexed for the
opening strike, the onslaught of spears and javelins. But no missiles
flew. Instead, the two men Alfred had identified as ‘kings’
stepped forward a pace.
‘So,
great king, we
meet at last,’ the less burly of the two yelled, his eyes scanning
the Saxon forces to locate the Saxon king. ‘We were not introduced
at Nottingham. Pity, I like to know the face of my enemy. Wherever
you’re hiding in the midst of your piss-poor army, I urge you to
look closely at what you confront. We are double your number and hold
the higher ground. Surrender – or by nightfall your carcases will
feed the scavengers!’
Millie is a former geography and
history teacher with a degree in geology and a passion for the Anglo
Saxon period. Since retiring a few years ago, she has been indulging
this passion by writing her historical fiction trilogy, Sons of
Kings, of which she is currently writing Book 3. Millie has also
become very fond of writing flash fiction, something that developed
from joining in with various challenges on WordPress. As a
consequence, she has also recently published a book of 85 flash
fiction pieces of 100 to 1,000 words, entitled A Dash of Flash.
Millie is the mother of six grown up
children, and after living in a number of places in England, she and
her husband now live in a small village in Nottinghamshire. When not
writing, Mille enjoys long walks in the countryside and visiting
historic sites and re-enactments. She is also an avid traveller,
swimmer and baker of cakes! Originally from the seaside town of
Southport in Lancashire, she still misses the smell of the sea.
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