Merry Christmas everyone

I realize it’s been a while since I wrote this blog but I’ve been busy on other writing projects that I’m sure you’ll find more entertaining.

As promised “Hunted” was published this fall and I’ve been getting some great feedback on that, although I could do with a few more reviews on Amazon if anyone feels so inclined.

A follow up to “Hunted”, tentatively called “Missing”, is coming along nicely at the moment and should be ready in the Spring, or, judging from past experience, the summer of 2017.

You won’t have to wait that long for something new to read though because “Tapestry” is nearly ready.

This book is very different to my others, it’s not a crime novel or an historical saga, it’s more a coming-of-age story from the 1930s and 40s. The manuscript is finished and it’s currently undergoing corrections. I think it’ll probably need one more read through by my editor then I just have to decide on the cover picture and hopefully it will be out there early in the new year. I have to admit I’m already kind of impatient to see how it’s received by you guys.

That’s about all of my news for now but, as I said at the beginning of this piece, it’s Christmas and so, as my gift to you, my 600 page blockbuster e-book, “Weoley”, will be free on Amazon from December 23 to December 26.   

'Weoley' is the story of a place. Won by the sword in a bloody battle that changed England's history, it is a place that evolves over nine hundred and fifty turbulent years. 

It is a story full of heroes and villains; the good, the bad, the beautiful, the wicked and the ordinary. Peasants and their lords, nobles, commoners and kings; theirs are stories of war and betrayal, murder, seduction and romance, of adultery, forgiveness and passionate love.

Bloody battles pit brother against brother; fortunes are made, and lost, while unfaithful wives and political intrigue stir the mix, all of it set against the background of a great fortress. If you are into history then give it a try, it’s free so you have nothing to lose. If you do read it I’d love for you to leave a review and, as an incentive this is how it starts:

Weoley

The story of a castle and its people

Prologue

Sussex, England, October 14, 1066

The night was dark, there were few clouds and the comet was clear for all to see. Was it an omen? Perhaps it was, but none knew whether it was for good or evil. Nor could any man say for whom the portents were intended. Then it was gone, its twin tails vanishing over the horizon to leave a world of darkness in their wake. Darkness the dawn seemed reluctant to break.

When it did rise, the watery sun spread its light over a cold, damp terrain shrouded in mist. It was a place of grassy ridges, marshy valleys and tall oak trees. A rich land where a man could live and grow; a land worth having; a land worth fighting for, worth dying for.

And men would die for it; Many men. It was a good day to be alive, but for some it would be their last. It was a day to fight, and there was going to be a mighty one. The army was marching; the enemy was standing on their ridge waiting for them. When they met arrows would fly, blades flash, shields shatter. Men would scream war cries, beg for their wives and mothers, or choke on steel while their life blood enriched the dark earth and they died in agony. It would happen thus because today was a day for killing. War had cast its shadow over England and there was a kingdom to be won.

The long column of men halted just below the summit of the hill. Considering their number they were strangely quiet, each man lost in the thoughts, hopes and fears of what was to come. Some were there because their lord commanded it, some for glory, others came for loot. Some relished the excitement of battle whilst others feared the icy bite of steel. Guy de Layon was there for many of these reasons. His lord had pledged service to Duke William and where Anscoul led, Guy would follow. He was eighteen years old, a younger son with no hope of inheritance. His father’s gift to him had been his horse, his armor, his weapons and arranging for him to serve Anscoul, to whom he was vassal. He would get naught else unless he made it himself by force of his blade.

As he waited, Guy gently rubbed the nose of his horse, Alis. She was his only mount and instead of riding he had led her since they left the camp an hour before. She would have enough to do before this day was over.

Looking past the knights in front of him, he could see a huddle of men talking to several light horsemen off to one side. Duke William himself was there with his half brother, Bishop Odo. Like the rest of the Norman knights, Guy had gone to the bishop to receive his blessing in the night. He had also gone to a smith who had taken a silver coin and sharpened Guy’s sword, dagger and lance. Guy had spent more time with the smith than with the priest. He was pious when needs be but he fancied God would be busy this day and each man would have to look out for himself.

Suddenly the conference on the brow of the hill broke up and Guy’s lord, Anscoul, walked back towards him.

‘They’re over there,’ he grunted with a jerk of his head back the way he had come, ‘on the next hill, thousands of them. Better arm yourself.’

Guy lifted the linen bag containing his hauberk from the saddle and took off his leather jerkin.

‘How’s it look, my lord?’ he asked Anscoul, who was arming himself with the aid of a couple of his men at arms.

‘They’re on a ridge,’ Anscoul replied. ‘There’s a valley between them and us and it’s a nasty slope up to them. The valley bottom is marshy according to the scouts but they’ve found a place to cross in the centre.’

‘Shield wall?’ Guy asked pulling his coif over his head and reaching for his sword sling.

‘Of course,’ Anscoul confirmed. ‘Can’t see much of it but the scouts reckon on six to eight thousand. Harold’s there, his standard’s in the centre.’

Guy had served Anscoul for three years and had yet to see a proper battle. He had fought raiders and had seen twenty or thirty trapped Danes form a small shield wall but that was nothing. This would be his first real fight. He pulled his helmet on, adjusted the nose guard, then unslung his big, kite-shaped shield with its diagonal black diamonds on white insignia

Anscoul was already armed and waited impatiently for him.

‘Don’t bother with the shield yet,’ he said. ‘Sling it on the saddle till we get closer.’

‘My lord,’ Guy acknowledged, doing as he was bid.

They moved forward, Guy leading Alis beside Anscoul’s three mounts. The nobleman did not speak but watched the youngster’s face as they breasted the rise and the scene across the valley unfolded.

Guy stopped and drew in a sharp breath. He felt his stomach tighten and his throat was suddenly dry. The ridge top opposite was full of men. They stood in a line perhaps a thousand paces long, rank after rank of them. In the centre, under a hoar apple tree, the fitful breeze stirred two standards. Anscoul saw him staring at them.

‘The dragon of Wessex,’ he said, ‘and Harold’s fighting man.’ Guy pursed his lips and nodded unconsciously to himself. ‘And what does that look portend, young Layon?’ Anscoul asked. Guy felt himself flushing.

‘If that’s where the Saxon king is then that’s where I must be,’ he replied. ‘A man without fortune must make his own and that’s where the greatest opportunity will be.’

Anscoul laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

‘Don’t be too anxious or you may not need a fortune,’ he said. He pointed to the Saxon line. ‘You see them?’ he asked. ‘The solid looking fellows standing in the front line?’ Guy nodded. He could see them. Big men clad in hauberks, with helms and big round shields. Their spears stood like thickets of saplings, the heads glinting as they caught the early morning sun. Many of them carried battle axes, fearsome looking weapons with double heads and four foot hafts. Guy nodded.

‘I see them,’ he said.

‘Housecarls,’ Anscoul said. ‘Harold’s bodyguard. Don’t underestimate them. They’re no Viking raiders. They’re warriors. They’ll stand there till hell freezes over before they give ground. You’ll need to go through them before you can get at Harold and if you fight one and come away with all your limbs you’ll be lucky.’ Guy looked at him in surprise. It had sounded almost as if Anscoul was afraid of the Saxons yet Guy had never known him to show fear before.

Anscoul caught the look and understood its meaning. He shook his head.

‘I’m not saying you need fear them but you should respect them. They’re good, but we’re better. Stay close to me. When we meet them keep your shield up and use the lance, don’t let them close with those damned axes.’ Guy nodded, his throat suddenly too dry to let him speak. The excitement was gone leaving in its wake an anxiety about what the day would bring and a determination that whatever happened he would not dishonor his name.

The army filed down the slope, crossed the marshy ground through a narrow gap and began to deploy left and right. Anscoul took his place to the Duke’s left and a little behind him and Guy, now mounted on Alis, sat to his rear and watched as the spearmen and archers filed past him.

Occasionally, he looked up at the enemy and wondered why they did not charge down from their ridge and attack the Normans while their formation was disrupted. Then he looked at the steepness of the slope he would soon have to climb and back to the strength of the Saxon line. He understood. They were in a good position. Why would they leave it? It was going to be a long hard fight and they would be hard to break. Both he and his mount would need all their strength. Unlike most of his companions he only had one horse so, despite his orders, he swung out of the saddle to rest her.

For USA, Canada etc. get Weoley at:

https://www.amazon.com/Weoley-story-castle-its-people/dp/1494803119/ref=sr_1_16?ie=UTF8&qid=1482370442&sr=8-16&keywords=derek+Coleman

Or for UK at:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Weoley-story-castle-its-people/dp/1494803119/ref=sr_1_16?ie=UTF8&qid=1482370442&sr=8-16&keywords=derek+Coleman