*****
My new
release, The Eagle’s Woman, is a project that has long been in my mind. Book I of a series to be titled The Eagle, it
begins the journey of Ari and Maeve.
The year
is 856 A.D. Son of an impoverished,
ailing Norse chieftain, Ari raids for booty and slaves in order to feed his
people. Pagan himself, still he spares
priests although he sells them. He is a
heathen…a murderer. It is a sin for any
Christian woman to love him.
Maeve is
the simple daughter of simple people, from an Irish fishing village so remote
it has never experienced a raid. She has
heard of Vikings, but never seen one. That
is about to change.
EXCERPT:
“What?”
Ari asked, reaching with his free hand to take her chin in it. His thumb
caressed her bottom lip and she thought she was not out of danger with him, no
matter how disheveled her appearance. This man wanted her, no doubt of it. Not
enough to commit violence on her, apparently, but she thought gentleness held
its own dangers. If she was not careful, it could weaken her will. He was not
unattractive—with fair skin, strong angular features and striking eyes—though
just then he looked like a drowned rat as all of them did. It did not obscure
the strength of his body or the keen intelligence in those eyes. She turned her
head to the side, dislodging his thumb.
“I have
not seen tears from you before,” he said thoughtfully, “though many of the
others are crying. What has finally broken you?”
“I am
not broken,” she spat, “only mourning two good people who raised me. But I am
sure you know nothing of such feelings.”
He sat
back on his heels. “Do I not? Two good people raised me as well. One lies
crippled in his sickbed and the other waits for me to bring coin to buy things
a sick man needs.”
Maeve was
silent, surprised and momentarily chastened. She had never seriously supposed
he had motives other than greed.
“Do you
think raiding is worthy of a fighting man?” he persisted. “I would rather face
an army than hungry children.”
She
stifled an impulse toward sympathy. “Ours are dead or captive. You seem to have
no trouble facing that.”
Abruptly,
he set both feet beneath himself and got up, undaunted by the motion of the
ship which made such things impossible for Maeve. She had not noticed a
wineskin hanging from the rigging, but she saw him reach for it then. “I cannot
help your children.” He took a fulsome swig. “Just mine.” Wiping the neck with
his wet tunic, he held the wineskin out to her.
It was
decent wine, probably from their monastery, tasting of strength and summer. She
needed strength to remember that summer would come again, so she drank.
BACKGROUND:
I was
amazed and a little intimidated when I first began researching this book and
realized just how much work bringing that back-of-my-mind dream was going to
entail. I knew about the Viking
longships, the Berserkers…I even had a notion about how their concept of trial
by judge would filter down into English Common Law via the Norman invasion to
become our modern trial-by-jury. This
will come into play in Book II, The Eagle’s Lady.
But I
didn’t know much about the private code of conduct so integral to Viking
life. Viking society was permeated by
the notion of honor, or drengskapr,
and shame, or nior. In stark contrast to our present-day image of
heated Berserker frenzy in battle, the Viking in his private life was valued
for self control, bravery, generosity, sense of fair play and respect for the
right way of doing things. A stoic and
imperturbable manner was considered highly honorable. Cowardice, treachery, kin-killing and
oath-breaking constituted dishonorable, shameful behavior that could even
result in temporary or permanent banishment.
Taunts issued through—of all things—poetry could get you outlawed, and
accusing another man of effeminate behavior was signing your own death
warrant. Viking law allowed for lethal
reprisal.
Matters
of honor were often settled by duel with swords, spears and axes. This
took place before witnesses in the context of
a carefully orchestrated ritual. In
Iceland, men were required to duel within the area which could be covered by a
cloak, often on a small island in a river, which prevented retreat or
interference. The first man to become
disarmed was the loser. If his opponent
then cut him down, he could be outlawed, which meant he was banished and was
essentially free game to anyone who wished to kill him, and someone usually
did. Again,
this will come into play in my second book of the series. Quite a difference from our image of the
out-of-control raider decimating peaceful villages, isn't it?
SEE “THE
EAGLE’S WOMAN” AT THE FOLLOWING LINKS:
