I'm delighted to introduce a new exciting historical novel, with a fascinating main protagonist.
You have a chance to read an excerpt from the book and also take part in the giveaway to win a hardback copy of the book.
The Last King
From author M J Porter comes a
thrilling new hero.
They sent three hundred warriors to kill one
man. It wasn’t enough.
Mercia lies broken but not beaten, her alliance
with Wessex in tatters.
Coelwulf, a fierce and bloody warrior, hears
whispers that Mercia has been betrayed from his home in the west. He fears no
man, especially not the Vikings sent to hunt him down.
To discover the truth of the rumours he hears,
Coelwulf must travel to the heart of Mercia, and what he finds there will
determine the fate of Mercia, as well as his own.
Purchase Link - https://books2read.com/u/31RBva
Author Bio – I'm an author of historical fiction (Early English, Vikings and
the British Isles as a whole before the Norman Conquest, as well as two
20th-century mysteries). I was born in the old Mercian kingdom at some point
since 1066. Raised in the shadow of a strange little building, told from a very
young age that it housed the bones of long-dead Kings of Mercia and that our
garden was littered with old pieces of pottery from a long-ago battle, it's
little wonder that my curiosity in Early England ran riot. I can only blame my
parents!
I write A LOT. You've been warned!
Find me at www.mjporterauthor.com and @coloursofunison on
Twitter.
Social Media Links –
https://linktr.ee/MJPorterauthor
The Last King
Excerpt
Intro: This scene
occurs not long after Coelwulf has returned to Kingsholm, his home, and
discovered that he must become Mercia’s king in the light of King Burgred
fleeing Mercia when faced with the Raiders (Vikings). But, Mercia has more
enemies than just the Raiders. (It also shows some of the humour that lightens
the tone of these characters in perilous situations).
Within
sight of Gloucester, I rein Haden in, my warriors following my actions. I turn
to Edmund, my confusion reflected in the wrinkles on his forehead, his mouth
hanging open.
“What the hell?” His words speak for us
all.
“Am I really seeing that?” I demand to
know. “Tell me I’m not really seeing that.”
“You’re really seeing that,” Edmund
replies, Icel beside him. His face mirrors Edmund’s shocked one as well.
“Bloody hell,” I shake my head, aghast.
Of all the things. Well, this was not what
I was expecting to see. Not in Gloucester.
And not right now.
“Stupid fools,” Icel’s voice rumbles with
his distaste, and I agree with him.
“Why would they do that?”
“Because they’re idiots.” Edmund’s voice
is filled with part admiration and part outrage. I share his feelings.
“Just what we need. Stupid Gwent Welsh
Raiders on top of everything else.”
“What shall we do?”
“Kill them,” I state flatly. I’ve fought
the Welsh men of Gwent almost as many times as I have the Raiders. Admittedly,
I’ve never had to fight the Welsh and the Raiders in the same week, or even
month.
The smoke that fills the air doesn’t come
from the settlement of Gloucester itself, still seemingly protected behind its
three ancient Roman walls. But on the quayside, the settlement is threatened.
“Why would they burn the bloody bridge?”
It makes no sense, but then, the Welsh of
Gwent make no sense to me most of the time.
“It seems they mean to cut off their own
noses to spite themselves.”
Without the wooden bridge, that links
Gloucester with the Mercian lands on the eastern side, the Welsh will have to
use ships to cross the Severn if they wish to trade with the inhabitants.
“Right, stupidity or not, let’s go and see
if anyone needs killing on our side of the river.”
Kneeing Haden, I steer him quickly inside
Gloucester. It seems our return has been expected, and the wooden gates are
quickly flung open, the street just about deserted as we ride through it.
The town, like so many others in Mercia,
is far from overpopulated other than by churches. In no time at all, my men and
I are milling around close to the burning bridge.
The heat is surprisingly intense as yellow
flames lick their way along the wooden struts.
I’ve nodded to those people I know as I
lead my men on, the looks of relief on those faces, assuring me that Gloucester
fears this new attack.
Edmund joins me, his hand already on his
seax, death in his eyes, as we reach the quayside. He hates the Welsh. All of
them. No matter their king or place of birth. If I allow him to, he’ll kill all
of the men marooned on this side of the bridge and not think twice about it.
I watch with mild interest as the twenty
or so Welsh warriors realise they’re not alone.
The tongue they speak is a gabble of too
many syllables. But I’ve not lived all my life so close to the Welsh
borderlands without learning some of the language.
A tight smile touches my cheeks.
It seems that facing me today was not
their desire.
“Why?” I shout across the void, aware Icel
has taken over the role of organising the men in light of Edmund’s seething
hissing beside me. The man is quite unmanageable where the Welsh are concerned.
One man steps forward. His long hair is
tied back behind his neck, his beard and moustache trimmed close to his face.
He wears excellent battle wear, but it’s not going to help him if he needs to
swim the Severn, for all it’s much narrower here than downstream.
The man’s Adam apple bobs, as he swallows
heavily, his eyes widening with fear. I don’t know what Icel’s doing behind me,
but I decide it’s probably Edmund’s wild features that cause so much concern.
“My Lord, My Lord Coelwulf.”
“Yes, and who are you?”
“I am Cadell ap Merfyn.”
“Well then, welcome to Gloucester, Cadell
ap Merfyn.”
His grimace almost makes me smile.
“I.” He stops, and I wait, my hands still
on the harness of my horse. The smell of the choking fumes of the treated,
burning wood, is threatening to bring tears to my eyes. Any moment now, I think
the flames will cover the twenty Welsh warriors, perhaps using it as a cover to
slip back across the Severn.
Maybe, I consider, there’s a ship waiting
for them.
But, Cadell’s nervousness speaks to me of
an enormous mistake.
“I. Well we. Well, it was our intention to
trade in Gloucester. It seems that our enemies thought differently.”
Ah, now this I can understand.
“Did they, by any chance, wait for you to
cross into Gloucester and then set the bridge aflame?”
Relief washes over Cadell’s face, making
him almost handsome if I avoid looking at his too sharp chin and elongated nose.
“How did you know? Did they tell you?” A
touch of fury slips from Cadell’s tongue.
“No, we didn’t know. But you know, we have
enemies too.”
From across the bridge, as the smoke blows
clear for a heartbeat, I can actually make out a warband jeering at the enemy.
Edmund growls, but I reach out and touch his hand, asking for a calmness that’s
never easily found where the Welsh are concerned.
“Is that all of you?” I demand to know,
jerking my head to indicate the warriors surrounding their spokesperson.
“Yes, yes,” the head bobs too quickly.
“No fools are hiding along the quayside,
in the boats or storehouses.”
The quayside could play host to five
hundred enemy warriors, and I’d be none the wiser.
“No. We are all here.” But he turns,
hesitant to show me his back, and picks out the faces of the men who serve him.
I shake my head, meeting Icel’s amused
eyes to the side of me.
“Edmund, do you want to take yourself off
somewhere else. I think I need to speak to this Cadell.”
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