A handful of historical authors brave the wilds of unusual settings, times, and characters to create distinctive, exciting novels just outside of the mainstream. Join us as we chronicle the trials and rewards of our quest - from research and writing to publication and establishing lasting careers.
This week on Excerpt Thursday we're welcoming our founder CarrieLofty back to celebrate the release of her latest unusual historical
romance, Flawless, set in colonial South Africa. Join us Sunday
when Carrie will be here to talk about this exciting new Victorian series from
Pocket Books, answer questions, and give away a copy. Here's the blurb:
A passion this seductive is more precious than diamonds. . . .
Sir William Christie, ruthless tycoon and notorious ladies' man,
is dead. Now his four grown children have gathered for the reading of his will.
What lies in store for half-siblings Vivienne, Alexander, and twins Gareth and
Gwyneth? Stunning challenges that will test their fortitude across a royal
empire...and lead them to the marvelously passionate adventures of their lives.
Lady Vivienne Bancroft fled England for New York, hoping to shed
the confines of her arranged marriage to unrepentant rogue Miles Durham,
Viscount Bancroft--though she never forgot the fiery desire he unleashed with
his slightest touch. And when the gambling man arrives on her doorstep for a
little sensual revenge for her desertion, he is met with Vivienne's dilemma:
she must earn her father's inheritance by profitably running a diamond business
worth millions in colonial South Africa.
Swept together in an exotic undertaking filled with heated passion
and hungry temptation, will Vivienne and Miles discover that the marriage vows
they once made are the greatest snare--or the most treasured reward?
**An Excerpt fromFlawless**
In this scene, Miles and Viv have just arrived on the docks at
Cape Town. Their showdown begins right away, as Miles has claimed possession of
Viv's baggage. Let the negotiations begin!
She stood like a
silk-encrusted statue. Never a crack, no matter how many whispered rumors. Only
his touch had ever revealed the passion lurking beneath. Rare moments when
she'd lost control, gasping his name, were more precious than all the diamonds
in the Cape.
Miles planned to seduce her,
just for the fun of proving that she loved it.
"Make your demand,"
she said. "I expect I know what you'll say."
"Not at all, my dear. I
don't want your money, and I don't desire marital privileges--well, not yet.
Not here on the docks."
Rosy lips parted on a quiet
sound. Her expression sparked with something very close to hatred. More like a
cousin to hatred, perhaps, because he'd seen her well and truly angry. This
little farce of a reaction meant they were only getting started.
"Out with it," she
said.
"I want you to ask."
After a flicker of surprise,
her composure returned. Miles wanted to retrieve his pocket watch and measure
the span of time between flustered and restored. He'd place heavy wagers on her
abilities, if anyone dared take him up on such a bet.
"Ask?"
"That's all. Ask that I
instruct Mr. Kato to take your bags to the train station."
"And then?"
"Then we'll take your
bags to the train station," he said, as if to a child. "The concept
is not a difficult one, Vivie."
"Don't call me
that," she snapped.
"Why not?" He
touched a lock of shimmering blond hair where it curved along her ear.
"Remind you of something?"
"You know it does."
"Yes." So much time
had passed, yet her warm floral scent still left him ready to beg. "Nights
to remember."
"To forget, you mean."
His ardor chilled. Memories,
both fervent and tender, flayed him with the mistakes of their shared past. The
intensity of her passion had been the one great surprise of his utterly
predictable life, and her constant need to deny it had been the undoing of
their marriage. He'd always wanted what she refused to offer.
If any begging were to be
done on that morning, it would be her task.
Miles scraped his gaze down
along her body, then climbed into the back of the wagon with Adam and the maid.
Every bit of his wife, from her ire to the frown that drew a line between her
brows, was busy shocking frozen pieces of him back to life. But he would bend
her, bully her, bed her--on his terms, not shaking and frothing like a servile
dog.
"Ask, Vivie, or I'll
unload it all into the harbor."
"You wouldn't!"
"Indeed, I would."
He spread his arms wide. "I don't back down from bets and you know it. Or
was it some other Viscount Bancroft who swam naked across the Thames?"
"Then I'll inform the
police!"
"They'll only remand you
into your husband's custody," he said, feeling giddy and mean. "Oh,
wait...that's me. And all the while, your knickers will be floating out to the
Atlantic."
"You're disgusting."
"Perhaps, but I'm also a
Peer of the Realm. Hard to believe, I know, but I do have influence." He
tugged at his bloodied shirt, buttoned his waistcoat, and stared her down.
"I can make the success of your daddy's company more likely...or bloody
near impossible."
What did the Vikings ever do for the English? Were they
just raiders?
There are two distinct phases to the Vikings in England.
First you have the period from 793 to 865 where the Vikings did sporadic raids
on the coast. They used the raids to capture booty and slaves but did not put
down any roots. Then in 865 the great
heathen army under the command of the sons of Ragnar the Hairy Breeches landed
in East Anglia and stayed.While Ivar
consolidated his power in East Anglia and Mercia, Halfdan went north, taking
advantage of a Northumbrian civil war. At the time, the capital of Northumbria
was York. He captured York with ease on
1 November 866 as all the nobles were at church for All Saints Day and the
rival kings were off fighting each other. The Vikings being pagans were no respectors of Christain holy days!
However the two rival kings Osbert and Aella quickly
realised what was going on and besieged York in March 867. Halfdan thoroughly routed
the Saxons. Aella who is reputed to have foully murdered Halfdan’s father by
throwing him in a pit filled with poisonous snakes was put to death by being
turned into a blood eagle. Halfdan then turned his attention elsewhere, but in
876 there was a rebellion which Halfdan put down. At this point, according to
the Anglo Saxon Chronicle he shared out the lands between his warriors and
established the Kingdom of York. He died in Dublin in 877. York continued as a
kingdom for a hundred years. He renamed the kingdom Jorik rather than Anglo
Saxon Eoforwic. The Vikings were in England to stay.
The Viking influence remains in York and Yorkshire. Much of
the layout of the current city of York was done by the Vikings. Any street
ending in –gate is a Viking street. Underneath Coppersgate (literally the street where cups are made lay
the remains of Jorvik and it is where today you can find the Jorvik centre.
That dig did much to change the perception of the Vikings in York as it emerged
that York had been a prosperous trading city with links all over Europe
andByzantium under Viking rule. There
were also a large proportion of traders and craftsmen.
The Vikings were responsible for dividing Yorkshire up into
Ridings as a means of administering their territory. You can also find Viking place
names all over Yorkshire. Suffix – by such as Whitby simply means village or
the village of Whit. –thrope means out lying farm, -tun means village, -wick
means bay and –ford (fjord).
It is during this time period such Scandinavian words as
knife, cup, egg, ill and die entered the English language. Also highly useful
grammar of their, them and they come from Old Norse into the English language
during this period. In all there are over 600 loan words from the Scandinavian
language which shows that there was a huge amount of Viking settlement during
this period. The Vikings did not evoke terror but settled and became part of
the landscape before that great Viking invasion by the Normans.
Michelle Styles writes warm, witty, and intimate historical
romance for Harlequin Historical. She has written a trilogy set in the early
Viking period (taken by the Viking, Viking Warrior Unwilling Wife and The Viking’s
Captive Princess) and is currently working on another Viking. Her most recent
book was an early Victorian To Marry A matchmaker and was published in the UK
in July 2011. You can learn more about Michelle’s book by visiting her website www.michellestyles.co.uk
Contact Lisa to indicate your preferred format for delivery. The book must be claimed by next Sunday or another winner will be drawn. Please stop back later to let us know what you thought! Congratulations!
This week, we're welcoming historical author and regular contributor, Jennifer Linforth,with an excerpt from her upcoming novel, RONDEAU. Jennifer's here to talk about the book and give away a copy! Here's the blurb:
The Madrigals continue...
While on the run and hiding in Germany, Erik lives like anyone else—until one nobleman strikes back...
When Anna’s secret past is revealed and she is captured by Raoul’s bounty hunter, Erik is forced to avenge her. This time the madness of the Phantom cannot be freely unleashed. Erik must rein himself in for the sake of his genius son and hideously deformed daughter.
With few allies as he takes to the streets of Paris in pursuit of Anna and his nemesis, Raoul, one man, The Persian, seeks to help while Christine seeks to keep Erik at large. Forced to turn over his control while spinning out of it, Erik’s past as The Phantom of the Opera roars to life before Paris and his unsuspecting children and only The Persian tries to talk sense to him.
But talk is senseless when speaking to a madman.
Overcome by his history and desperate to keep the past from destroying his life, Erik takes Paris by storm...
Two guns.
One bullet.
And a result that changes everything...
**A Q&A with Jennifer Linforth**
RONDEAU is the
third book in your series that continues The Phantom of the Opera, MADRIGAL and
ABENDLIED being the first two. Why did you wish to continue classic literature
and why the original novel and not the widely popular Lloyd-Webber version?
Certain stories transcend time leaving more questions than
answers. No author made me question as much as Gaston Leroux. My love for The Phantom of the Opera stemmed from a
deep respect for a book that was a mystery, horror and romance rolled into one.
After revisiting Leroux’s novel for the third time the questions in my head
would not fade. Why—as a jurist—did he leave so many unanswered questions in such a fascinating book? The primary question I had was who was the “Shade” he spoke
of.From that idea came The Madrigals.
I focused on
Leroux because Leroux created the story, not Lloyd Webber. Webber created
iconic images with his musical and movie, but Leroux’s original is quite different from the
romantic, famous love triangle of Webber’s. Webber’s film
created a mildly deformed man oozing sex appeal who happens to have murdered
out of desperation and anger. What Webber wished was the basic romance as the
focus. In Leroux, Erik was a
murderously vengeful personality… a clear madman, while concurrently being a
repressed and ardent gentleman. He was the central
character in a Death and the Maiden tale and I wish to focus on that challenge
instead.
How do you feel
about finishing your series?
I actually wrote
all three Madrigals in one year and spent the next several polishing the series
before and during publication. I cried from relief when I finally polished
RONDEAU. I put a great deal of pressure on myself to make sure this series
remained true to Gaston Leroux yet still had enough of my vision in it to make
it stand out. Now that the series is finished I feel very accomplished and am
ready to move on to the next project. I may resist the characters down the
road, perhaps continuing the story with primarily the secondary cast.
After spending so
much time with these characters is there a sense of loss with the ending?
There is a sense
of completion, not loss. I’ve spent seven years with this series from the start
of my research to the last book published. A writer does get attached to their
characters, however. I will miss crafting the secondary characters that
revolved around Leroux’s original cast. I will miss making nasty villains, but
I can do that for another work! I don’t feel loss over it because I know the
door is open for great things to come in terms of my career as a writer and my
personal goals to meet them.
Which were your
favorite characters to explore in each book?
Crafting Erik as
a true madman was always a delight from book to book. In the first, MADRIGAL, I
loved bringing Madame Giry back to her roots. She is so often seen as Webber’s
verison. I enjoyed making her that bumbling servant of the Phantom that she
was.In ABENDLIED exploring Philippe de
Changy was my passion and still is. He is my favorite character in classic
literature. He’s was a character begging to be explored.I also loved Pappy. In him I enjoyed making a
character utterly unexpected in a novel like this but who was pivotal to the
growth of both Anna and Erik.In RONDEAU
the Persian was fun to write for he was another under explored character.
What’s next for
you?
I am writing
Regency romance now. I am working on a book with a unique spin on a heroine. I
like to have characters that, like the Phantom, must overcome some mental or
social stigma. I am also polishing a historical romance set in Austria for my
publishing house.
Thank you, Jennifer, and all the best with RONDEAU. Remember,
please leave your comment to win a copy of Jennifer’s latest!
This week on Excerpt Thursday, we're welcoming historical author and regular contributor, Jennifer Linforth,with an excerpt from her upcoming novel, RONDEAU. Join us on Sunday, when Jennifer will be here to talk about the book and give away a copy! Here's the blurb:
The
Madrigals continue...
While on the
run and hiding in Germany, Erik lives like anyone else—until one nobleman
strikes back...
When Anna’s
secret past is revealed and she is captured by Raoul’s bounty hunter, Erik is
forced to avenge her. This time the madness of the Phantom cannot be freely
unleashed. Erik must rein himself in for the sake of his genius son and
hideously deformed daughter.
With few allies
as he takes to the streets of Paris in pursuit of Anna and his nemesis, Raoul,
one man, The Persian, seeks to help while Christine seeks to keep Erik at
large. Forced to turn over his control while spinning out of it, Erik’s past as
The Phantom of the Opera roars to life before Paris and his unsuspecting
children and only The Persian tries to talk sense to him.
But talk is
senseless when speaking to a madman.
Overcome by his
history and desperate to keep the past from destroying his life, Erik takes
Paris by storm...
Two guns.
One bullet.
And a result
that changes everything...
**An Excerpt from RONDEAU**
Vahid rubbed at his temple nervously,
making his scrutiny of the lamplight below waiver. The monster trembled with
some unarticulated frustration. He sensed it. It manifested in the slight
twitches to Erik’s hand. That letter made matters worse—far worse. He cursed
himself for delivering it.
“Do you have any idea what risk you put your
children in? You made the choice to put them first when you took them out of
the security of that monastery. You can’t run off half-crazed right now.”
Erik touched his temple. He leaned
in slightly. “I am half-crazed. What
would you suggest I do?” With one graceful leap he pounced upon the railing and
began to walk, stabbing the air with a finger. “My fuse is smoldering and every
minute that passes without her is a minute of absolute agony. I am growing
angry, Daroga.”
“You’re not in the position you used to be—”
“Daroga—”
“You go running out onto those streets
right now after her and you are as good as dead!” Vahid uneasily eyed Erik’s
twitching hand. “There is not a shadow in this city that doesn’t know the
Phantom, regardless of this fair. You
have children here to think of and clearly your state of mind can’t handle a
thing right now.” His eyes shot from Erik’s hand, to his mask and back to his
hand. Erik balanced precariously on the edge of the rooftop. The wind snapped
his cloak sending arrows of tension up Vahid’s neck.
And the raven, never
flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting, On the pallid bust of Pallas just
above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is
dreaming…
He swallowed hard. “You stay here. I will
return to the comte and attempt to leave with Anna.” Erik’s eyes shifted
abruptly, moved, and glowed at him from an even higher spot. Vahid spun,
searching high and low for his evaporating specter. “I will Erik. When have I
ever backed down on my word to you? You can’t have the control when you are the
one out of it. Don’t do anything stupid. Do you hear me, Erik? Stay burrowed
like the mole you are until I come to you to let you know all is clear. You
have children to consider, you colossal fool!”
A disembodied voice filled with all the
surge of a rising tide and floated menacingly around him. “Get off my roof, Daroga.”
RONDEAU: A Novel of Gaston Leroux’s The Phantom of the Opera
ISBN: 978-0-9833960-8-6
See the trailers for this series!
Praise
for Madrigal and Abendlied:
“If you long for an evocative heart wrenching
tale and are prepared to pour a little of yourself into it, Madrigal is for
you” ~ Long and Short Reviews on Madrigal
“Ms. Linforth’s prose is
phenomenally beautiful and hauntingly breathtaking.” ~Coffee Time Romance on Madrigal
Jennifer Linforth's latest
work is sweet and tender, dark and decadent, a treat to be reached for again
and again. For anyone who read Gaston Leroux's The Phantom of the Opera and
wanted more, this is the book for you! ~ Night Owl Romance on Abendlied
Magic played a strange and ambivalent role in medieval society. Wise-women and wizards were sometimes tolerated or revered or sometimes persecuted as witches, particularly if their 'magic' went wrong. Yet at the same time, priests could perform magic and utter charms as well as prayers to combat evil or demons.
All levels of medieval society believed in magic, including the courts. Magicians might be employed at European courts as entertainers, as alchemists, as healers or as diviners. In the later Tudor period we have John Dee, who served Elizabeth I as her astronomer and occultist, and the alchemist and astronomer Paracelsus. In myth we have Merlin, one of the most famous magicians of them all, who was on the edge first of Uther Pendragon's court and then of King Arthur's, and feared and respected in equal measure. In France in the 14th century, the astrologer Thomas of Pisano made figures out of wax to destroy the invading English by magic.
Astrologers, alchemists and magicians, promising gold, health and power, were often welcomed at court and given high status. Yet their places were always vulnerable. Jealous rivals could accuse them of using magic in an evil way, as happened to Mummolus, a shrewd military tactician of the sixth century AD, a time when Frankish Gaul was split into several kingdoms. Accused of witchcraft by Fredegund, queen to Chilperic I of Soissons, Mummolus was tortured and died of his wounds.
In 1441 Eleanor, duchess of Gloucester, was accused of using ‘treasonable necromancy’ against King Henry VI in order to advance her husband. She was imprisoned for life, while the astrologers Thomas Southwell and Roger Bolingbroke, together with Margery Jourdemayne, ‘the Witch of Eye‘, were condemned to death. In the mid-1480s Richard III of England accused Elizabeth Woodville (previously married to a Lancastrian) of having bewitched his late brother Edward IV into marrying her.
Even the court of the medieval papacy was a place where members could be accused of magic - because magic-making was seen as a part of life and a way of gaining or keeping favours. In 1317 the bishop of Cahors was tried for using magic against Pope John XXII and trying to smuggle magical images into the papal palace in loaves of bread.
Lindsay Townsend writes historical romance set in medieval England and the ancient Mediterranean. Lindsay's latest book, To Touch the Knight, a story of jousting, deception and romance at the time of the Black Death, is published by Kensington Zebra in July.
Contact Lisa to provide your mailing address. The book must be claimed by next Sunday or another winner will be drawn. Please stop back later to let us know what you thought! Congratulations!
This week, we're welcoming historical author and regular contributor, Lisa J. Yarde,with an excerpt from her upcoming novel, SULTANA'S LEGACY, the sequel to SULTANA. The novel will be available November 2011. Lisa will be give away a copy, in the winner's preferred format! Here's the blurb:
In thirteenth-century Moorish Spain, the Sultanate of Granada faces a bleak future, as a tyrant seizes control.
Fatima, the daughter of a Sultan, and her devoted husband Faraj have enjoyed years of peace and prosperity. Now, a power-hungry madman claims the throne. He murders almost everyone Fatima holds dear. His reign fractures a weakened Sultanate, under siege from Christian kingdoms to the north and Moorish dynasties in the south.
Fatima must preserve the legacy of her forefathers at all costs. She risks everything, even the love and trust of her husband. Amidst treachery and intrigue, she stands alone against her adversaries, determined to avenge terrible losses. Can she survive the test of divided loyalties and shocking betrayals?
Tell us more about Sultana’s Legacy.
Sultana’s Legacyis a story with themes of revenge and forgiveness, with a focus on the bonds of family and relationships between the characters. It is the sequel to my earlier novel, Sultana. The story takes place during a turbulent period in thirteenth century Moorish Spain, when my heroine Fatima and her husband Faraj have secured a bright future for themselves and their children. When the novel opens, Faraj is at the height of his power as the governor of Malaga on the southern coast of Spain. As the matriarch of her family, Fatima is devoted to her children, but has a deep sense of loyalty to her father. His murder is the catalyst for the major conflict in the book, an act that divides Fatima and Faraj. In addition, the ambitions of other family members intent on claiming the throne deepen the rift between the couple. Fatima faces several struggles along the way, against the darkness inside of her and the unending conflicts that threaten to tear her family apart. At the moment where she finds the strength to overcome her pain, she endures a final, shocking betrayal that changes her perceived destiny.
Why have you written this story and its prequel, Sultana?
During my college years, I was fascinated to learn that there had been an Islamic presence in Europe. For seven hundred years, a diverse people known as Moors had ruled what would become one of the most influential Catholic nations. The thirteenth century in Spain was a brutal and turbulent era, as most of the medieval period, but it was also the flowering of an age of artistic, intellectual and architectural brilliance in Spain. Fatima and Faraj played pivotal roles in the history of that period, as did their descendants for another two centuries. I am truly fortunate that the primary setting of their story, the Alhambra Palace in the southern Spanish city of Granada still exists and is open of visitors. I hope readers will share my fascination with the Alhambra, the Moorish period, and Fatima and Faraj’s lives.
How long have you been writing?
I have been writing since junior high school. An old classmate of mine reminded me of this, when we re-connected on Facebook. Just short stories, really, so apparently I have been a storyteller for at least 25 years. If not longer. Writing stopped being a hobby in 2005, when I joined a critique group. It was a truly humbling but also enriching experience, and taught me a lot about writing well and making it a priority.
What inspired you to become a writer?
It all started with love. I loved the craft of storytelling. I loved how words transport us to another place and time. Something stirs inside me when I read a compelling story, a sense of the time and place. When I was younger, I discovered that I wanted to tell stories like that. To create settings and characters, which are memorable and vivid like the ones I have read. I have also realized that it is not enough to have that goal in your head.
Will you write more on Moorish Spain?
I hope to do so, someday. I’ve spent several years documenting the period and Fatima’s family. I certainly have the research compiled so that I could do it. For now, I bid a fond farewell to this particular project.
This week on Excerpt Thursday, we're welcoming historical author and regular contributor, Lisa J. Yarde,with an excerpt from her upcoming novel, SULTANA'S LEGACY, the sequel to SULTANA. The novel will be available November 2011. Join us on Sunday, when Lisa will be here to talk about the book and give away a copy, in the winner's preferred format! Here's the blurb:
In thirteenth-century Moorish Spain, the Sultanate of Granada faces a bleak future, as a tyrant seizes control.
Fatima, the daughter of a Sultan, and her devoted husband Faraj have enjoyed years of peace and prosperity. Now, a power-hungry madman claims the throne. He murders almost everyone Fatima holds dear. His reign fractures a weakened Sultanate, under siege from Christian kingdoms to the north and Moorish dynasties in the south.
Fatima must preserve the legacy of her forefathers at all costs. She risks everything, even the love and trust of her husband. Amidst treachery and intrigue, she stands alone against her adversaries, determined to avenge terrible losses. Can she survive the test of divided loyalties and shocking betrayals?
**An Excerpt from Sultana's Legacy** After prayers, the mid-afternoon sun beat down on the heads of guests at the walima, the marriage banquet. With her daughter Leila attentive to the guests, Fatima escaped the crowded, open-air hall for the belvedere by the sea. As she approached the exit, voices drifted from beyond the door.
Fatima ducked into a shadowy corner and peered around the wall. Faraj and her father rested their hands on the marble ledge.
The Sultan said, “You have prospered here. You have made my daughter happy. I had no cause to doubt you.”
Faraj replied, “Fatima is very dear to me and not only because she is your daughter.”
Fatima’s father straightened and rubbed the spindly arms under his robe. “I should move the capital to the coast, where it is temperate all year round. I believe my kadin Nur would like it.”
Faraj chuckled. “Fatima would be pleased also. She misses the company of your favorite Nur and her stepmother Shams ed-Duna.”
Fatima leaned against the wall behind her with a sigh. Her father and husband spoke as friends of old, as if the nightmare of the past years had not happened. Then the men regarded each other.
Faraj said, “Forgive me for the errors of the past, my Sultan.”
“Only if you would do the same for me,” her father replied. “I let myself be misguided about you. I was wrong to do so. You are a good man, a loyal governor, a worthy husband to my daughter and a blessing for my grandchildren. I ask your forgiveness too.”
Tears pricked at Fatima’s eyes. As she turned away, the sea breeze picked up again and caught the hem of her jubba. Thewhite silk and silver brocaded folds of the robe lapped at the wall.
“Fatima?”
Her father’s voice beckoned and she stepped into the light. “I did not mean to intrude upon you and my husband.”
“You are always welcome,” her father said, holding out his hand. She rushed to his side and laced her fingers with his. His gnarled hand shook in her hold.
“Are you well, Father?” She studied the fine lines etched in his forehead.
He nodded. “I am overcome by the joy of this occasion. If you have a moment before you return to your daughter’s wedding guests, may we speak in private?”
“As you wish, Father.”
She glanced at Faraj. He bowed at the waist and then grinned at the Sultan, who said, “You shall return with me to Gharnatah in a month’s time. I need your counsel.”
Faraj nodded. “I am yours to command, my Sultan.”
He pressed a hand to Fatima’s shoulder. She squeezed her beloved’s lean fingers and smiled at him, before he left them.
She slid her arms around her father’s waist and pressed her cheek against his barrel chest. “It’s so good to have you here, for Leila’s sake. You have honored my eldest daughter with your gift and your blessing.”
“I should have done more when Leila was a child. Now, my granddaughter is a woman. One day, she shall have children of her own. I have not spent enough time with my grandchildren. I should have known them much better than I do.”
“It is the burden of your power. You shall always be my father and the grandfather of my children. Foremost, you are Sultan of Gharnatah. You belong to your people, not to us. It has always been so. I knew how it would be from the moment you ascended the throne. It has never diminished the love in my heart, the honor with which I revere you, as my father and lord of my life.”
He sighed. “I have not always deserved your love and respect. I feared I might not be welcome here today, after all the things I have said and done to your husband. To you.”
“Father, that is all in the past. You and Faraj have forgiven each other. My heart is whole again, not torn between the love that I would bear a father and a husband, once at war with each other.”
“I have made many mistakes in these long years. Things I must undo. It is part of why I came to you and Faraj, to seek your forgiveness.”
“You have it. Oh Father, you shall always have it!”
Fatima hugged him again. His frailty shocked her, bones and sinew knitted together in a wiry frame that was half his normal size. How did he possess the strength to stand?
She drew back and searched his gaze. “Something more than this resolution between you and my husband, more than Leila’s union has drawn you to Malaka. Father, what ails you?”
His long sigh confirmed the suspicions that had dogged her since his unexpected arrival.
Fatima maneuvered her father to the carved stone bench on the belvedere. When he settled on the seat with a groan, she sat and took his hand. He held her fingers in an unsteady grasp and looked out on the water. Sunlight shimmered in the depths of the White Sea. Birds whirled and circled against the blue backdrop and wisps of clouds.
“Fatima, have you ever slept for so long that when you awoke, it seemed you had been slumbering for years?”
When she shook her head, her father continued. “I have lingered in a haze of dreaming. I am awake now. My eyes are open. I see the world as it truly is. I see my heir for what he truly is.”
Her heart thudded
He reached into the fold of his leather boots and pulled out a slip of parchment.
He gave it to her. “Read it for yourself.”
Her gaze darted across the page once, before she re-read.
“This is a letter to Sultan Abu Ya’qub Yusuf of the Marinids, Father, inviting him to another alliance with Gharnatah. Why would you do this? Your last letter to me at the beginning of the year mentioned new negotiations with the Christian King of Castilla-Leon. Why would you risk siding with his enemy, Sultan Abu Ya’qub Yusuf?”
“I did not write this letter.”
She stared at the dried ink on the parchment. “But it’s in your style. It bears your great seal.”
“Look at the date on the letter.”
She did so. “It says it was transcribed in Rabi al-Thani…but I don’t understand, that was four months ago. I had written to Shams with invitations for the wedding then. She replied that you remained at the Castillan court at the time. How can it be that this letter bears this date and your signature?”
“Because it is a forgery, a damnable forgery meant to draw me in with the Marinids again!”
Her chest tightened. She fought for every breath. “You know who created this forgery.”
“Yes, as you do. It was your brother, the Crown Prince.”
The Sultan stood and shuffled to the ledge. Even with his back to her, she could not miss how his hand brushed his face with a quick swipe. His knotted fingers rested on the marble.
“How did you come to realize the truth, Father?”
“Ridwan of the Bannigash clan, a talib of the Diwan al-Insha, saw the letter mixed among others I had signed before I left for negotiations with the Castillans. The date puzzled Ridwan and he brought it to my Hajib Ibn al-Hakim al-Rundi. The Prime Minister showed it to me. Fatima, I have been a fool for my son. But no longer.”
She drew in a harsh breath. “You confronted my brother!”
The Sultan nodded, though it was not a question. “Muhammad denied it, of course, saying anyone could have done it. I know his handwriting. It is very similar to mine but there are subtle differences. For several months, he has counseled me against negotiations with our Christian neighbors to the north. I refused to destabilize my regime with another war, a new jihad. Muhammad said we would not lose if we had Marinid help.”
She shook her head. If the letter had reached the Marinid capital at Fés el-Bali, her father would have had no knowledge of it. The Marinids would have produced the proof and deemed him an oath-breaker. Wars began in such ways. Gharnatah could not risk a conflict with the Marinids. The Sultanate would never survive it.
“Father, what do you intend to do when you return to Gharnatah? Is this why you asked Faraj to accompany you?”
The Sultan looked over his shoulder. “It is. I shall need your husband’s support, with the changes to come. Shams ed-Duna’s son shall need him as well.”
As she pressed her fingers just above her heart, he returned to her side and cupped her chin with his hand.
“I want you to know, you were right to caution me in the past about your brother. I have indulged him too much. The fault is mine. If he is deceitful, it is because I have failed him as a father, as I have failed you.”
“No, no, you have never failed me!”
“Fatima, hear me in this. I should have trusted in you and your instincts about your brother. You have never led me astray before. Now I pray Allah, the Compassionate, the Merciful, may bless you with the knowledge I did not possess. Have the courage to see your loved ones as they are, not as you would wish them to be. Be strong, my daughter, in the days of trial.”
He sighed and smiled, but it was a sad, empty gesture. Then he pressed his forehead to hers. “It should have been you, my Fatima. You should have been my firstborn and a male. What a formidable Sultan you would have made! I charge you, my most precious and beloved child, with a sacred responsibility. It is yours until death. I bequeath the glory of our family name and require your defense of it. Guide and protect those whom we love. This is my last and best legacy, the duty to our family. Promise me you shall hold fast to it.”
She blinked hard against her tears and embraced him once more. She buried her face in his familiar comfort.
“To the end and with my last breath, I shall honor you and our family always, blessed Father.”
He is inventor, diplomat, statesman,
author. Skilled in the craft of
negotiation, unequalled in the art of courtship and love. If we understand any of the founding fathers,
surely we know him—his temperament, his beliefs, his motivations—better than any
of the men whose vision, resolve, and oratory united colonists of disparate
purpose into a single mind. Yet, in
flagrant challenge to our long-held beliefs, the greatest of the architects of
rebellion considered himself first of all an Englishman. Deeper, bewildering shocks await as we peer
into this man’s life, accomplishments, and failures.
Following through history the
cascade of events he set in motion late in the summer of 1774, we are not
surprised to hear the shot heard ‘round the world on April 19, 1775, nor see
with our own eyes the unanimous declaration he and his congressional colleagues
signed a year later, during the hot summer days of July, 1776. Perhaps, though, we are not only surprised,
but shocked, to learn that this printer from Philadelphia—this Englishman—was
almost single-handedly responsible for a greater number of American deaths and a
deeper obligation of debt than any single person prior to the 1980s. In fact, it is specifically because of the
engrained Englishness of him that the American Revolution did not end in the
spring of 1777, but instead engulfed the new United States, four European
countries, and seven North American First Nations in a war that dragged on for
eight and a half years, and became the inexorable trajectory that led to the
French Revolution six years later, the Quiet Revolution of the 1960s, and the
debt crisis of the early 21st century. It is because Benjamin Franklin embodied an
oxymoron—because of his treasonous loyalty—that French, not American English,
to this very day is spoken in Montréal, Sherbrooke, and Québec, and the Stars
and Stripes flies neither in Vancouver nor in Toronto.
The Englishman
The famous woodcut above does not
represent a newly-patriotic Benjamin Franklin calling for united resistance to
British overlords during the Revolutionary War, but rather a much younger
Franklin’s appeal to fellow Englishmen to gather behind an earlier, but no less
urgent, common cause. Franklin’s
stirring call to arms was not issued in 1775, nor even in the Stamp Act days of
1765. Franklin created the woodcut in
the early spring of 1754 (the version above was embellished by Samuel Kneeland
of the Boston Gazette and published in May of that year) not in response to
British tyranny, but in reply to French attempts to secure the continent. The tone of Franklin’s oratory and written
discourse was strongly in keeping with Kneeland’s sentiment, expressed by the
scroll emanating from the snake’s open mouth:
Unite and Conquer. Unite against
Canada, and conquer the French.
Franklin spoke of Frenchmen as
representing a race distinct and inferior from the civilized humanity found
only among gentlemen obedient to the British monarch. The French had strange laws and customs, the
unnatural and subordinate nature of which was proven by French Canadians’
perverse ability to bring an entire continent of savages to their cause, which
Franklin understood to be the removal of English colonies from what was
otherwise a continent owned entirely by France.
Franklin’s way of looking at the long conflict in the 1750s has carried
through to modern times, though we no longer think of the French as members of
a distinct “race,” and we are not as likely to refer to Native Americans as
“savages.” Nevertheless, our
interpretation of the events of that time is distinctly American, as indicated
by the name we apply to the conflict.
While historians in Europe and Canada know the battles of 1750s North
America as The Seven Years’ War, American historians refer to the conflict as
“The French and Indian Wars.”
Franklin’s energy and passion in
rallying opposition to the French was no sideline in a life otherwise devoted
to scientific investigation. His early
immersion in science was not the sign of any infatuation with disembodied
objectivity, but indication of a deeper sense of social propriety. Political and social intercourse in his mind
were paramount to the fullest expression of humanity. He believed in the widest possible expression
of arts and sciences, as long as creativity and industry were tempered by the
greater call to civility and cohesive society.
France, to Franklin, was an impediment both to human freedom and to
proper social order.
Social health could only be achieved
in a milieu which rewarded those who lived life according to natural laws. English customs were superior to all others
in this regard, since rewards were not only possible, but could be expected to
accrue to those who led virtuous lives.
No such rewards were possible under French custom and law, in Franklin’s
mind. In the colonies, and in England,
there were gentlemen and commoners. In
France, on the other hand, there were peasants and nobles. Franklin had started life a commoner, and in
fact, one of the last of seventeen children born to a soap maker, he was not
expected to have any impact on society.
But Franklin early on recognized the immutable underpinnings of English
culture, and applied himself in earnest to the task of rising from the
anonymous ranks of common men to become a respected and even revered English
gentleman. He knew instinctively that
such a rise in social standing would never have been possible had he been born
into the highly stratified and stagnant French socio-political system, and he
came to despise French custom as destructive of the human spirit. Once a peasant, always a peasant, always
under the crushing thumb of hereditary nobility. In the freedom-loving British Empire, on the
other hand, social position was a matter of individual initiative.
More on Treasonous Loyalty: Benjamin Franklin, the Intolerable Acts, and the National Debt, coming soon.