Featuring Women's History, Women Authors, Writing In General, And Author Interviews. Home of the Teresa Thomas Bohannon author of the Historical, Paranormal Romance, Shadows In A Timeless Myth, the Regency Romance Novel, A Very Merry Chase, and the illustrated version of Jane Austen's posthumously published Juvenilia, The Widow's Tale.
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Ends 12/18/13
Open only to those who can legally enter, receive and use an Amazon.com Gift Code or Paypal Cash. Winning Entry will be verified prior to prize being awarded. No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or older to enter or have your parent enter for you. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter and announced here as well as emailed and will have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. This giveaway is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Rafflecopter or any other entity unless otherwise specified. The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by Kathy from I Am A Reader, Not A Writer and sponsored by the participating authors & bloggers. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW.
Smiles & Good Fortune,
Teresa
************************************
It is not wealth one asks for, but just enough to preserve one’s dignity, to work unhampered, to be generous, frank and independent. W. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) Of Human Bondage, 1915
Everybody has their demons. Some are just a little more real than others…
Ember has always known she doesn’t belong in this world, but when she
tries to correct the mistake, she wakes to find herself in a mental
institution.
There she draws the attention of Taren, a mysterious boy who isn’t what he seems.
When chaos erupts, they are forced to flee the institution together,
and the secret Taren has been keeping, brings Ember closer to
understanding her own.
And leads her to… the Gateway.
Praise
“I loved, loved, loved, Gateway. It kept me up all night, it kept me
guessing throughout and stayed on my mind afterward. And that my
friends, is pretty much my definition of a great book.” ~thatbookishgirl.blogspot.com
“I enjoyed everything about this novel–the strong writing, the
believable characters, the captivating plot and the subtle but sweet
romance.” ~irresistiblereads.blogspot.com
“I give this book 5 stars out of 5, for the sole reason that I can’t give it more.” ~TheWolfsLibrary.blogspot.com
Author Christina Garner
Christina Garner began writing stories at the age of six, with some
help from her older sister. At eighteen, her aspirations as an actor had
her loading up her Buick and setting off for Hollywood. Since then, she
has written and directed 10 short films, including Rewind and Reminder,
both of which received acclaim on the festival circuit. In 2006, she
began writing screenplays. A year later, she even got paid for one. In
May of 2011, her debut novel, Gateway, became an Amazon Bestseller. A
year later, Chasm, Book 2 in The Gateway Trilogy, did the same.
Christina lives in Los Angeles, and when she’s not writing, spends her
time traveling the world, watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer reruns, and
playing with her dog, Griffin.
Smiles & Good Fortune,
Teresa
************************************
It is not wealth one asks for, but just enough to preserve one’s dignity, to work unhampered, to be generous, frank and independent. W. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) Of Human Bondage, 1915
Book Blast Giveaway
$100 Amazon Gift Card or Paypal Cash
Ends 12/5/13
Open only to those who can legally enter, receive and use an
Amazon.com Gift Code or Paypal Cash. Winning Entry will be verified
prior to prize being awarded. No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or
older to enter or have your parent enter for you. The winner will be
chosen by rafflecopter and announced here as well as emailed and will
have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. This giveaway
is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Rafflecopter or any
other entity unless otherwise specified. The number of eligible entries
received determines the odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by Kathy
from I Am A Reader, Not A Writer http://iamareader.com and sponsored by the authors. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW.
Spell Fire, The Teen Wytche Saga #3
By Ariella Moon
Summary
New school. New friends. New reputation. High school sophomore
Ainslie Avalon-Bennett works hard to hide her Crazy Girl past. But as
long as her best friend’s disappearance remains unsolved, she can’t
shake the depression and obsessive-compulsive disorder that once landed
her in a mental ward.
Ainslie’s tenuous control over her life shatters when her warring
parents ditch her at Christmas. While they take a cruise to “work things
out,” Ainslie must spend the holiday in Palm Springs with her aunt and
uncle, owners of a struggling Mystery School and occult store. Plunged
into the world of fire fortunes, dragons, entity eaters, and an ailing
spell book, Ainslie is well beyond her comfort zone. Then she meets a
boy who spikes her pulse and calms her OCD. But will she lose him once
he discovers her past? Or will his deadly secret, hidden in plain view,
be their undoing?
Author Ariella Moon
Ariella Moon writes about magic, friendship, secrets, and love in her Young Adult novels, Spell Check, Spell Struck, and Spell Fire, Books 1, 2, & 3 in The Teen Wytche Saga. Ariella
spent her childhood searching for a magical wardrobe that would
transport her to Narnia. Extreme math anxiety, and taller students who
mistook her for a leaning post, marred Ariella’s teen years. Despite
these horrors, she graduated summa cum laude from the University of
California at Davis. An author and shaman,she now lives a nearly normal life with her extraordinary daughter, shamelessly spoiled dog, and an enormous dragon.
Spell Fire Excerpt
My body elongated, and I swore I grew six inches. Inside the cafe, there was no line. Another miracle. I paused beneath the fern‑painted ceiling fan and scanned the wall menu. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but a weird craving fueled my search.
The dragon exerted pressure between my shoulder blades, prompting me. "A Scorpion's Nest smoothie."
Morningstar leaned over the high counter and gave me a once‐over. "You feeling okay?"
I licked my lips. "Absolutely." I had never tasted an orange juice, vanilla ice cream, and peanut butter combo, but I slapped the countertop and said, "I'm fine. Hit me."
Morningstar tilted her head to one side and studied me.
Oh — crap. Maybe I'm dragon drunk.
I wiped the drool from the corner of my mouth stood straighter. I could do this. I could act normal and in control. Behind me, the dragon blew on my hair. I clawed back the stray locks. "Strong ceiling fan."
Morningstar glanced up. I held my gaze steady on her face and tried to remember if the fan was actually on. I couldn't hear the whir of its motor or feel the stir of cool air. I can't feel anything. I went for distraction and slipped a ten across the counter.
Morningstar leveled her gaze, then handed me my change. "I'll bring the smoothie to your table."
"Cool." My eyes crossed. I pivoted and fell out of my right flip‐‑flop. Fortunately, the place was almost empty, and I didn't think anyone saw me stumble. Still, my face heated as I chose a table with plenty of space behind it for the dragon and my invisible wings.
"Mind if I join you for a minute?" Morningstar asked when she brought my drink.
"Please." I giggled, giddy with dragon energy. I was a bright, beneficent angel among earthlings. I was — as crazy as my parents feared.
Book Blast Giveaway
$50 Amazon Gift Card or Paypal Cash
Ends 12/20/13
Open only to those who can legally enter, receive and use an Amazon.com Gift Code or Paypal Cash. Winning Entry will be verified prior to prize being awarded. No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or older to enter or have your parent enter for you. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter and announced here as well as emailed and will have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. This giveaway is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Rafflecopter or any other entity unless otherwise specified. The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by Kathy from I Am A Reader, Not A Writer http://iamareader.com and sponsored by the authors. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW.
Smiles & Good Fortune,
Teresa
************************************
It is not wealth one asks for, but just enough to preserve one’s dignity, to work unhampered, to be generous, frank and independent. W. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) Of Human Bondage, 1915
Another disappearance and supposed imprisonment which created
considerable sensation was that of Elizabeth
Canning. On New Year's Day, 1753, she visited an uncle and aunt who
lived at Saltpetre Bank, near Well Close Square, who saw her part of the
way home as far as Houndsditch. But as no tidings were afterwards heard
of her, she was advertised for, rumours having gone abroad, that she had
been heard to shriek out of a hackney coach in Bishopsgate-street.
Prayers, too, were offered up for her in churches and meeting-houses,
but all inquiries were in vain, and it was not until the 29th of the
month that the missing girl returned in a wretched condition, ill,
half-starved, and half-clad. Her story was that after leaving her uncle
and aunt on the 1st of January, she had been attacked by two men in
great coats, who robbed, partially stripped her, and dragged her away to
a house in the Hertfordshire road, where an old woman cut off her stays,
and shut her up in a room in which she had been imprisoned ever since,
subsisting on bread and water, and a mince pie that her assailants had
overlooked in her pocket, and ultimately, she said, she had escaped
through the window, tearing her ear in doing so.
Her story created much sympathy for her, and steps were immediately
taken to punish those who had abducted her in this outrageous manner.
The girl, who was in a very weak condition, was taken to the house
she had specified, one "Mother" Wells, who kept an establishment of
doubtful reputation at Enfield Wash, and on being asked to identify
the woman who had cut off her stays, and locked her up in the room
referred to, pointed out one Mary Squires, an old gipsy of surpassing
ugliness.
Accordingly, Squires and Wells were committed for trial for
assault and felony; the result of the trial being that Squires was
condemned to death, and Wells to be burned in the hand, a sentence
which was executed forthwith, much to the delight of the excited crowd
in the Old Bailey Sessions-house.
But the Lord Mayor, Sir Crisp Gascoyne, who had presided at the trial
ex-officio, was not satisfied with the verdict, and caused further
and searching inquiries to be made. The verdict, on the weight of
fresh evidence obtained, was upset, and Squires was granted a free
pardon.
On 29th April, 1754, Elizabeth Canning was summoned again to
the Old Bailey, but this time to take her trial for willful and corrupt
perjury. The trial lasted eight days, and, being found guilty, she was
transported in August, "at the request of her friends, to New
England." According to the "Annual Register," she returned to this
country at the expiration of her sentence to receive a legacy of £500,
left to her three years before by an old lady of Newington Green;
whereas, later accounts affirm that she never came back, but died 22nd
July, 1773, at Weathersfield, in Connecticut, it being further stated
that she married abroad a Quaker of the name of Treat, "and for some
time followed the occupation of a schoolmistress."
The mystery of her life—her disappearance from Jan. 1st to the 29th
of that month, and what transpired in that interval—is a secret that
has never been to this day divulged. Indeed, as it has been observed,
"notwithstanding the many strange circumstances of her story, none is
so strange as that it should not be discovered in so many years where
she had concealed herself during the time she had invariably declared
she was at the house of Mother Wells."
Compiled From Sources In The Public Domain.
Ladies who are abducted and prevail...and those who do not, figure prominently in the plot of Shadows In A Timeless Myth.
Smiles & Good Fortune,
Teresa
************************************
It
is not wealth one asks for, but just enough to preserve one’s dignity,
to work unhampered, to be generous, frank and independent. W.
Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) Of Human Bondage, 1915
Jawbreaker
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Jolene Stockman is an award winning writer, speaker, and an expert for Girlfriend Magazine Australia. She is a Master of Neuro Linguistic Programming, and one of the youngest in the world to achieve the Distinguished Toastmaster Award. Jolene lives in New Zealand, and is the author of motivational non-fiction Total Blueprint for World Domination, and contemporary fiction The Jelly Bean Crisis. Jawbreaker: Unlock the (U)niverse is her latest book.
$100 BookBlast Giveaway
$100 Amazon Gift Card or Paypal Cash
Ends 11/24/13
Open only to those who can legally enter, receive and use an Amazon.com Gift Code or Paypal Cash. Winning Entry will be verified prior to prize being awarded. No purchase necessary. You must be 18 or older to enter or have your parent enter for you. The winner will be chosen by rafflecopter and announced here as well as emailed and will have 48 hours to respond or a new winner will be chosen. This giveaway is in no way associated with Facebook, Twitter, Rafflecopter or any other entity unless otherwise specified. The number of eligible entries received determines the odds of winning. Giveaway was organized by Kathy from I Am A Reader, Not A Writer and sponsored by the author. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED BY LAW.
Smiles & Good Fortune,
Teresa
************************************
It is not wealth one asks for, but just enough to preserve one’s dignity, to work unhampered, to be generous, frank and independent. W. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) Of Human Bondage, 1915
(Shadows is also available at Barnes & Noble for the Nook) Complimentary Shadows In A Timeless Myth Short Story Complimentary Shadows In A Timeless Myth Musical Jigsaw Puzzle Shadows In A Timeless Myth Book Trailer Video Smiles & Good Fortune, Teresa ************************************ It
is not wealth one asks for, but just enough to preserve one’s dignity,
to work unhampered, to be generous, frank and independent. W.
Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) Of Human Bondage, 1915
In the reign of Egbert the Saxon there dwelt in Britain a maiden named
Yseult, who was beloved of all, both for her goodness and for her
beauty. But, though many a youth came wooing her, she loved Harold
only, and to him she plighted her troth.
Among the other youth of whom Yseult was beloved was Alfred, and he was
sore angered that Yseult showed favor to Harold, so that one day Alfred
said to Harold: "Is it right that old Siegfried should come from his
grave and have Yseult to wife?" Then added he, "Prithee, good sir, why
do you turn so white when I speak your grandsire's name?"
Then Harold asked, "What know you of Siegfried that you taunt me? What
memory of him should vex me now?"
"We know and we know," retorted Alfred. "There are some tales told us
by our grandmas we have not forgot."
So ever after that Alfred's words and Alfred's bitter smile haunted
Harold by day and night.
Harold's grandsire, Siegfried the Teuton, had been a man of cruel
violence. The legend said that a curse rested upon him, and that at
certain times he was possessed of an evil spirit that wreaked its fury
on mankind. But Siegfried had been dead full many years, and there was
naught to mind the world of him save the legend and a cunning-wrought
spear which he had from Brunehilde, the witch. This spear was such a
weapon that it never lost its brightness, nor had its point been
blunted. It hung in Harold's chamber, and it was the marvel among
weapons of that time.
Yseult knew that Alfred loved her, but she did not know of the bitter
words which Alfred had spoken to Harold. Her love for Harold was
perfect in its trust and gentleness. But Alfred had hit the truth: the
curse of old Siegfried was upon Harold—slumbering a century, it had
awakened in the blood of the grandson, and Harold knew the curse that
was upon him, and it was this that seemed to stand between him and
Yseult. But love is stronger than all else, and Harold loved.
Harold did not tell Yseult of the curse that was upon him, for he
feared that she would not love him if she knew. Whensoever he felt the
fire of the curse burning in his veins he would say to her, "To-morrow
I hunt the wild boar in the uttermost forest," or, "Next week I go
stag-stalking among the distant northern hills." Even so it was that
he ever made good excuse for his absence, and Yseult thought no evil
things, for she was trustful; ay, though he went many times away and
was long gone, Yseult suspected no wrong. So none beheld Harold when
the curse was upon him in its violence.
Alfred alone bethought himself of evil things. "'T is passing
strange," quoth he, "that ever and anon this gallant lover should quit
our company and betake himself whither none knoweth. In sooth 't will
be well to have an eye on old Siegfried's grandson."
Harold knew that Alfred watched him zealously, and he was tormented by
a constant fear that Alfred would discover the curse that was on him;
but what gave him greater anguish was the fear that mayhap at some
moment when he was in Yseult's presence, the curse would seize upon him
and cause him to do great evil unto her, whereby she would be destroyed
or her love for him would be undone forever. So Harold lived in
terror, feeling that his love was hopeless, yet knowing not how to
combat it.
Now, it befell in those times that the country round about was ravaged
of a werewolf, a creature that was feared by all men howe'er so
valorous. This werewolf was by day a man, but by night a wolf given to
ravage and to slaughter, and having a charmed life against which no
human agency availed aught. Wheresoever he went he attacked and
devoured mankind, spreading terror and desolation round about, and the
dream-readers said that the earth would not be freed from the werewolf
until some man offered himself a voluntary sacrifice to the monster's
rage.
Now, although Harold was known far and wide as a mighty huntsman, he
had never set forth to hunt the werewolf, and, strange enow, the
werewolf never ravaged the domain while Harold was therein. Whereat
Alfred marvelled much, and oftentimes he said: "Our Harold is a
wondrous huntsman. Who is like unto him in stalking the timid doe and
in crippling the fleeing boar? But how passing well doth he time his
absence from the haunts of the werewolf. Such valor beseemeth our
young Siegfried."
Which being brought to Harold his heart flamed with anger, but he made
no answer, lest he should betray the truth he feared.
It happened so about that time that Yseult said to Harold, "Wilt thou
go with me to-morrow even to the feast in the sacred grove?"
"That can I not do," answered Harold. "I am privily summoned hence to
Normandy upon a mission of which I shall some time tell thee. And I
pray thee, on thy love for me, go not to the feast in the sacred grove
without me."
"What say'st thou?" cried Yseult. "Shall I not go to the feast of Ste.
Aelfreda? My father would be sore displeased were I not there with the
other maidens. 'T were greatest pity that I should despite his love
thus."
"But do not, I beseech thee," Harold implored. "Go not to the feast of
Ste. Aelfreda in the sacred grove! And thou would thus love me, go
not—see, thou my life, on my two knees I ask it!"
"How pale thou art," said Yseult, "and trembling."
"Go not to the sacred grove upon the morrow night," he begged.
Yseult marvelled at his acts and at his speech. Then, for the first
time, she thought him to be jealous—whereat she secretly rejoiced
(being a woman).
"Ah," quoth she, "thou dost doubt my love," but when she saw a look of
pain come on his face she added—as if she repented of the words she
had spoken—"or dost thou fear the werewolf?"
Then Harold answered, fixing his eyes on hers, "Thou hast said it; it
is the werewolf that I fear."
"Why dost thou look at me so strangely, Harold?" cried Yseult. "By the
cruel light in thine eyes one might almost take thee to be the
werewolf!"
"Come hither, sit beside me," said Harold tremblingly, "and I will tell
thee why I fear to have thee go to the feast of Ste. Aelfreda to-morrow
evening. Hear what I dreamed last night. I dreamed I was the
werewolf—do not shudder, dear love, for 't was only a dream.
"A grizzled old man stood at my bedside and strove to pluck my soul
from my bosom.
"'What would'st thou?' I cried.
"'Thy soul is mine,' he said, 'thou shalt live out my curse. Give me
thy soul—hold back thy hands—give me thy soul, I say.'
"'Thy curse shall not be upon me,' I cried. 'What have I done that thy
curse should rest upon me? Thou shalt not have my soul.'
"'For my offence shalt thou suffer, and in my curse thou shalt endure
hell—it is so decreed.'
"So spake the old man, and he strove with me, and he prevailed against
me, and he plucked my soul from my bosom, and he said, 'Go, search and
kill'—and—and lo, I was a wolf upon the moor.
"The dry grass crackled beneath my tread. The darkness of the night
was heavy and it oppressed me. Strange horrors tortured my soul, and
it groaned and groaned, gaoled in that wolfish body. The wind
whispered to me; with its myriad voices it spake to me and said, 'Go,
search and kill.' And above these voices sounded the hideous laughter
of an old man. I fled the moor—whither I knew not, nor knew I what
motive lashed me on.
"I came to a river and I plunged in. A burning thirst consumed me, and
I lapped the waters of the river—they were waves of flame, and they
flashed around me and hissed, and what they said was, 'Go, search and
kill,' and I heard the old man's laughter again.
"A forest lay before me with its gloomy thickets and its sombre
shadows—with its ravens, its vampires, its serpents, its reptiles, and
all its hideous brood of night. I darted among its thorns and crouched
amid the leaves, the nettles, and the brambles. The owls hooted at me
and the thorns pierced my flesh. 'Go, search and kill,' said
everything. The hares sprang from my pathway; the other beasts ran
bellowing away; every form of life shrieked in my ears—the curse was
on me—I was the werewolf.
"On, on I went with the fleetness of the wind, and my soul groaned in
its wolfish prison, and the winds and the waters and the trees bade me,
'Go, search and kill, thou accursed brute; go, search and kill.'
"Nowhere was there pity for the wolf; what mercy, thus, should I, the
werewolf, show? The curse was on me and it filled me with a hunger and
a thirst for blood. Skulking on my way within myself I cried, 'Let me
have blood, oh, let me have human blood, that this wrath may be
appeased, that this curse may be removed.'
"At last I came to the sacred grove. Sombre loomed the poplars, the
oaks frowned upon me. Before me stood an old man—'twas he, grizzled
and taunting, whose curse I bore. He feared me not. All other living
things fled before me, but the old man feared me not. A maiden stood
beside him. She did not see me, for she was blind.
"Kill, kill,' cried the old man, and he pointed at the girl beside him.
"Hell raged within me—the curse impelled me—I sprang at her throat.
I heard the old man's laughter once more, and then—then I awoke,
trembling, cold, horrified."
Scarce was this dream told when Alfred strode that way.
"Now, by'r Lady," quoth he, "I bethink me never to have seen a sorrier
twain."
Then Yseult told him of Harold's going away and how that Harold had
besought her not to venture to the feast of Ste. Aelfreda in the sacred
grove.
"These fears are childish," cried Alfred boastfully. "And thou
sufferest me, sweet lady, I will bear thee company to the feast, and a
score of my lusty yeomen with their good yew-bows and honest spears,
they shall attend me. There be no werewolf, I trow, will chance about
with us."
Whereat Yseult laughed merrily, and Harold said: "'T is well; thou
shalt go to the sacred grove, and may my love and Heaven's grace
forefend all evil."
Then Harold went to his abode, and he fetched old Siegfried's spear
back unto Yseult, and he gave it into her two hands, saying, "Take this
spear with thee to the feast to-morrow night. It is old Siegfried's
spear, possessing mighty virtue and marvellous."
And Harold took Yseult to his heart and blessed her, and he kissed her
upon her brow and upon her lips, saying, "Farewell, oh, my beloved.
How wilt thou love me when thou know'st my sacrifice. Farewell,
farewell forever, oh, alder-liefest mine."
So Harold went his way, and Yseult was lost in wonderment.
On the morrow night came Yseult to the sacred grove wherein the feast
was spread, and she bore old Siegfried's spear with her in her girdle.
Alfred attended her, and a score of lusty yeomen were with him. In the
grove there was great merriment, and with singing and dancing and games
withal did the honest folk celebrate the feast of the fair Ste.
Aelfreda.
But suddenly a mighty tumult arose, and there were cries of "The
werewolf!" "The werewolf!" Terror seized upon all—stout hearts were
frozen with fear. Out from the further forest rushed the werewolf,
wood wroth, bellowing hoarsely, gnashing his fangs and tossing hither
and thither the yellow foam from his snapping jaws. He sought Yseult
straight, as if an evil power drew him to the spot where she stood.
But Yseult was not afeared; like a marble statue she stood and saw the
werewolf's coming. The yeomen, dropping their torches and casting
aside their bows, had fled; Alfred alone abided there to do the monster
battle.
At the approaching wolf he hurled his heavy lance, but as it struck the
werewolf's bristling back the weapon was all to-shivered.
Then the werewolf, fixing his eyes upon Yseult, skulked for a moment in
the shadow of the yews and thinking then of Harold's words, Yseult
plucked old Siegfried's spear from her girdle, raised it on high, and
with the strength of despair sent it hurtling through the air.
The werewolf saw the shining weapon, and a cry burst from his gaping
throat—a cry of human agony. And Yseult saw in the werewolf's eyes
the eyes of some one she had seen and known, but 't was for an instant
only, and then the eyes were no longer human, but wolfish in their
ferocity. A supernatural force seemed to speed the spear in its
flight. With fearful precision the weapon smote home and buried itself
by half its length in the werewolf's shaggy breast just above the
heart, and then, with a monstrous sigh—as if he yielded up his life
without regret—the werewolf fell dead in the shadow of the yews.
Then, ah, then in very truth there was great joy, and loud were the
acclaims, while, beautiful in her trembling pallor, Yseult was led unto
her home, where the people set about to give great feast to do her
homage, for the werewolf was dead, and she it was that had slain him.
But Yseult cried out: "Go, search for Harold—go, bring him to me. Nor
eat, nor sleep till he be found."
"Good my lady," quoth Alfred, "how can that be, since he hath betaken
himself to Normandy?"
"I care not where he be," she cried. "My heart stands still until I
look into his eyes again."
"Surely he hath not gone to Normandy," outspake Hubert. "This very
eventide I saw him enter his abode."
They hastened thither—a vast company. His chamber door was barred.
"Harold, Harold, come forth!" they cried, as they beat upon the door,
but no answer came to their calls and knockings. Afeared, they
battered down the door, and when it fell they saw that Harold lay upon
his bed.
"He sleeps," said one. "See, he holds a portrait in his hand—and it
is her portrait. How fair he is and how tranquilly he sleeps."
But no, Harold was not asleep. His face was calm and beautiful, as if
he dreamed of his beloved, but his raiment was red with the blood that
streamed from a wound in his breast—a gaping, ghastly spear wound just
above his heart.
Compiled From Sources In The Public Domain.
For an
unusual modern interpretation of the legend of the Werewolf, read my
historical, paranormal romance Shadows In A Timeless Myth.
(Shadows is also available at Barnes & Noble for the Nook) Complimentary Shadows In A Timeless Myth Short Story Complimentary Shadows In A Timeless Myth Musical Jigsaw Puzzle Shadows In A Timeless Myth Book Trailer Video Smiles & Good Fortune, Teresa ************************************ It
is not wealth one asks for, but just enough to preserve one’s dignity,
to work unhampered, to be generous, frank and independent. W.
Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) Of Human Bondage, 1915
“As daughter of our ruler I grew up in the crossfire of an ongoing
war… All I’d ever wanted to be was a great warrior and ultimately lead
my people into victorious battles.”
Elemental: The First, Elemental: Origin and The Battle for Arcanon
Major draw in Alexandra’s love of strong women characters, sci-fi,
history, romance and a little warmongering on the side!
Smiles & Good Fortune,
Teresa
************************************
It is not wealth one asks for, but just enough to preserve one’s dignity, to work unhampered, to be generous, frank and independent. W. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) Of Human Bondage, 1915
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Smiles & Good Fortune,
Teresa
************************************
It
is not wealth one asks for, but just enough to preserve one’s dignity,
to work unhampered, to be generous, frank and independent. W.
Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) Of Human Bondage, 1915
Brunehaut, or Brunehild, was the daughter of Athanagilde, king of the Visigoths of Spain. In A. D. 565, she wed Sigebert, king of the Franks of Austrasia. Contrary to the custom of the times, Sigebert had resolved to have but one wife, and to choose her from a royal family; his choice fell on Brunehaut--beautiful, of regal bearing, modest, dignified, agreeably conversant and wise. Sigebert quickly became very much attached to his new bride and eventually loved her so much that he was willing to go to war against his own brother to please her.
Why to war? Now that is a soap-opera of historic proportions!
Fredegonde was the daughter of poor peasants in
the neighborhood of Montdidier in Picardy, and at an early age joined the
train of Queen Audovere, the first wife of King Chilperic. She was
beautiful, dexterous, ambitious, and bold; and she attracted the
attention, and before long awakened the passion of the king. She pursued
with ardor and without scruple her unexpected good fortune. Queen Audovere was
her first obstacle and her first victim. On the pretext of a spiritual
relationship which rendered her marriage with Chilperic illegal, Queen Audovere was
repudiated and banished to a convent. But Fredegonde's hour had not yet
come; for Chilperic married instead Galsuinthe, daughter of the Visigothic king,
Athanagild, whose youngest daughter, Brunehaut, had just married
Chilperic's brother, Sigebert, king of Austrasia. Chilperic, king of Neustria, brother of Sigebert, had married Galsuinda, daughter of Athanagilde, sister of Brunehaut; but before long Galsuinthe was found strangled in her bed, and that
Chilperic wed Fredegonde making her his queen. An undying hatred arose
between Fredegonde and Brunehaut, who, to avenge her sister's death, persuaded Sigebert to make war upon his brother.
A war,
incessantly renewed, between the kings of Austrasia and Neustria followed.
Sigebert succeeded in beating Chilperic, but, in 575, but, while besieging Tournayin, the midst of his
victory, he was assassinated in his tent by two emissaries of
Fredegonde. As soon as Brunehaut heard of this tragedy, she hastened to save her
little son Childebert, heir to the kingdom of Austrasia. She hid him in a
basket, which was let down from a window of the palace she occupied in
Paris, and gave him to a servant of the Austrasian duke Gondebald, who
carried him on horseback to Meaux, where he was proclaimed king on
Christmas day, 575.
When Chilperic and Fredegonda arrived at Paris, they found only Brunehaut, with her two daughters and the royal treasure. The right of asylum belonging to the cathedral of
Paris saved her life, but she was sent away to Rouen. Her property was taken from her, her daughters were exiled to Meaux, and she was sent to Rouen.
During the few days that Brunehaut had remained in Paris, she had inspired Meroveus, Chilperic' s second son, with a violent passion, so that soon after she reached Rouen, he abandoned the troops his father had placed under his charge, and hastened to join her. They were married by the Bishop of Rouen, although it was contrary to the canons of the church to unite a nephew and aunt.
Chilperic, furious at this step, came with great haste to separate them; but they took refuge in a little church, and the king, not daring to violate this asylum, was at last obliged to promise with an oath that he would leave them together.
Reassured by this solemn promise, Meroveus and Brunehaut left their asylum and surrendered to Chilperic. Fredegonde was determined to persecute her rival and destroy her step-son, heir
to the throne of Chilperic but the Austrasians, who had preserved the child
Childebert, son of their murdered king, demanded with threats the return of Queen Brunehaut. She was surrendered to them; but Fredegonde was still determined to have her revenge and refused to release Merovice. First imprisoned, then shorn and shut up in a
monastery, afterwards a fugitive and secretly urged on to attempt a rising
against his father, he was so tormented by his perils, that he some say he had a
faithful servant to strike him dead, that he might not fall into the hands
of his hostile step-mother. Others, of course believe that Fredegonde herself had him murdered.
Fredegonde's depredations did not stop there however. Chilperic had remaining another son, Clovis,
issue, as Merovee was, of Queen Audovere. He was accused of having caused
by his sorceries the death of the three children lost about this time by
Fredegonde; and was, in his turn, imprisoned and before long poniarded.
His mother Audovere was strangled in her convent. Fredegonde sought in
these deaths, advantageous for her own children, some sort of horrible
consolation for her sorrows as a mother. But the sum of her crimes was not yet
complete. In 584 King Chilperic, on returning from the chase and in the
act of dismounting, was struck two mortal blows by a man who took to rapid
flight, and a cry was raised all around of "Treason! 'tis the hand of the
Austrasian Childebert against our lord the king!"
The care taken to have
the cry raised was proof of its falsity; it was the hand of Fredegonde
herself, anxious lest Chilperic should discover the guilty connection
existing between her and an officer of her household, Landry, who became
subsequently mayor of the palace of Neustria. Chilperic left a son, a few
months old, named. Clotaire, of whom his mother Fredegonde became the
sovereign guardian. She employed, at one time in defending him against his
enemies, at another in endangering him by her plots, her hatreds and her
assaults, the last thirteen years of her life. She was a true type of the
strong-willed, artful, and perverse woman in barbarous times; she started
low down in the scale and rose very high without a corresponding elevation
of soul; she was audacious and perfidious, as perfect in deception as in
effrontery, proceeding to atrocities either from cool calculation or a
spirit of revenge, abandoned to all kinds of passion, and, for
gratification of them, shrinking from no sort of crime. However, she died
quietly at Paris, in 597 or 598, powerful and dreaded, and leaving on the
throne of Neustria her son Clotaire II., who, fifteen years later, was to
become sole king of all the Frankish dominions.
Brunehaut had no occasion for crimes to become a queen, and, in spite of
those she committed, and in spite of her out-bursts and the moral
irregularities of her long life, she bore, amidst her passion and her
power, a stamp of courageous frankness and intellectual greatness which
places her far above the savage who was her rival.
Brunehaut was a princess of that race of Gothic kings who, in
Southern Gaul and in Spain, had understood and admired the Roman
civilization, and had striven to transfer the remains of it to the
newly-formed fabric of their own dominions. She, transplanted to a home
amongst the Franks of Austrasia, the least Roman of all the barbarians,
preserved there the ideas and tastes of the Visigoths of Spain, who had
become almost Gallo-Romans; she clung stoutly to the efficacious exercise
of the royal authority; she took a practical interest in the public works,
highways, bridges, monuments, and the progress of material civilization;
the Roman roads in a short time received and for a long while kept in
Anstrasia the name of Brunehaut's causeways; there used to he shown, in a
forest near Bourges, Brunehaut's castle, Brunehaut's tower at Etampes,
Brunehaut's stone near Tournay, and Brunehaut's fort near Cahors.
In
the
royal domains and wheresoever she went she showed abundant charity
to the
poor, and many ages after her death the people of those districts
still
spoke of Brunehaut's alms. She liked and protected men of letters,
rare
and mediocre indeed at that time, but the only beings, such as
they were,
with a notion of seeking and giving any kind of intellectual
enjoyment;
and they in turn took pleasure in celebrating her name and her
deserts. Unfortunately, Brunehaut was detested by the majority of the
Austrasian chiefs, those Lords, landowners and warriors, whose
independence she was continually fighting against.
Brunehaut's safely returned to her son's court, commenced her struggle against the nobles of Austrasia. Once, when her own sympathizers and those of the opposing faction were drawn up in battle array, she, seeing that the combat would be a bloody one, and that her own side was the weaker, boldly rushed between them and demanded that they desist. "'Stay, warriors; refrain
from this wicked deed; persecute not the innocent; engage not, for a
single man's sake, in a battle which will desolate the country!' 'Back,
woman,' said Ursion to her; 'let it suffice thee to have ruled under thy
husband's sway; now 'tis thy son who reigns, and his kingdom is under our
protection, not thine. Back! if thou wouldest not that the hoofs of our
horses trample thee under as the dust of the ground!' After the dispute
had lasted some time in this strain, the queen, by her address, at last
prevented the battle from taking place."
But the fearless Brunehaut, unmoved by this savage address, persisted and at last succeeded in preventing the combat. It
was but a momentary success for Brunehaut; and the last words of Ursion
contained a sad presage of the death awaiting her.
Although obliged to yield to her subjects for a short time, Brunehaut soon regained her authority, which she used with great cruelty. Intoxicated with power,
pride, hate, and revenge, she entered more violently every day into strife
not only with the Austrasian laic chieftains, but with some of the
principal bishops of Austrasia and Burgundy, among the rest with St.
Didier, bishop of Vienne, who, at her instigation, was brutally murdered,
and with the Irish missionary St. Columba, who would not sanction by
his blessing the fruits of the royal irregularities. In 614, after
thirty-nine years of wars, plots, murders, and political and personal
vicissitudes, from the death of her husband Sigebert I., and under the
reigns of her son Theodebert, and her grandsons Theodebert II. and Thierry
II., Queen Brunehaut, at the age of eighty years, fell into the hands of
her mortal enemy, Clotaire II., son of Fredegonde, now sole king of the
Franks. After having grossly insulted her, he had her paraded, seated on a
camel, in front of his whole army, and then ordered her to be tied by the
hair, one foot, and one arm to the tail of an unbroken horse, that carried
her away, and dashed her in pieces as he galloped and kicked, beneath the
eyes of the ferocious spectators.
After the execution of Brunehaut and the death of Clotaire II., the
history of the Franks becomes a little less dark and less bloody.
Compiled From Sources In The Public Domain.
Smiles & Good Fortune,
Teresa
************************************
It is not wealth one asks for, but just enough to preserve one’s dignity, to work unhampered, to be generous, frank and independent. W. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) Of Human Bondage, 1915
