“Helen Hollick has it all! She tells a great story and writes consistently readable books” Bernard Cornwell
KING ARTHUR
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New Editions available worldwide except USA/Canada
https://mybook.to/KingArthurTrilogy
The Boy Who became a Man:
Who became a King:
Who became a Legend... KING ARTHUR
There is no Merlin, no sword in the stone, and no Lancelot. Instead, the man who became our most enduring hero.
All knew the oath of allegiance:
‘To you, lord, I give my sword and shield, my heart and soul. To you, my Lord Pendragon, I give my life, to command as you will.’
This is the tale of Arthur made flesh and bone. Of the shaping of the man who became the legendary king; a man with dreams, ambitions and human flaws.
A man, a warlord, who united the collapsing province of post-Roman Britain, who held the heart of the love of his life, Gwenhwyfar
- and who emerged as the most enduring hero of all time. A different telling of the later Medieval tales. This is the story of King Arthur as it might have really happened...
"If only all historical fiction could be this good." Historical Novels Review
"... Juggles a large cast of characters and a bloody, tangled plot with great skill. " Publishers Weekly
"Hollick's writing is one of the best I've come across - her descriptions are so vivid it seems as if there's a movie screen in front of you, playing out the scenes." Passages To The Past
"Hollick adds her own unique twists and turns to the familiar mythology" Booklist
"Uniquely compelling... bound to have a lasting and resounding impact on Arthurian literature." Books Magazine
(contains scenes of an adult nature)
READ AN EXCERPT
from
The Kingmaking
AUGUST 453
The day had been long and hot. Up here,
the hill wind had helped cool the men down, but still they dripped sweat and
were short tempered with the string of stubborn pack mules. Arthur called a
halt early, although it was only mid-afternoon and they had plenty of light to
cover a few more miles. They made camp quickly and efficiently, securing the
mule loads in a guarded tent beside the Pendragon’s. Then relaxed a while,
taking the opportunity to bathe in the cold waters of the lake, grateful to
wash the itch and stink of stale sweat from their skins.
Arthur splashed with them, diving deep
into the clear pool, the green depths quiet and mysterious beneath him,
stretching down as if to reach the Earth’s heart. It seemed another dimension
of being, amidst this weird light and diffused sound; another place; the other
world of Faery, where time had no meaning. He pushed upwards, feet kicking
against the pull of water and for a panicked heartbeat it felt as if he were
held there, trapped, being enticed down into that magic kingdom where no mortal
dwelt. His head broke the surface, dazzling sunlight hitting him smart in the
face. Men were laughing and jesting along the shoreline, splashing each other,
pushing companions into the cool water. Arthur gasped and sucked in sweet,
clear air and struck out, relieved, towards them.
From the shore, where he rubbed himself
vigorously with his tunic, the pool looked safe enough, but even so he
shivered. Superstition. Even in a man of level thinking it was a powerful
inheritance.
Cei noticed the shiver and grinned.
“Too cold for you, huh?”
“Na,” Arthur
confessed, “too deep.”
Cei nodded understanding, his hand
involuntarily making the sign of the Christian cross. “They say there is an
island where the faery folk dwell, on one of these lakes, visible only at
Beltaine. An evil place of pagan darkness where God’s blessed face would not
look.”
“Aye, well, ’tis not Beltaine.”
All the same, Arthur found it difficult
to shrug aside that moment of fear when he had fought against the pull of
water. How easy would it be to become lost within those silent depths? He
shivered again, the memory lying heavy on his shoulder. As Cei had just now
made the Christian sign of protection, Arthur’s fingers formed the horned sign
against the pagan lords of darkness.
Noticing, Cei gave him a sidelong
glance of disapproval. He decided against comment, saying instead, “Should we
not take a look at the morrow’s ground?”
Arthur grinned back at him, grateful
for the chance to turn his thoughts from the unreal to the practical. He strode
briskly to the horse lines barking an order at an officer to take command. “And
see to it no one goes near the mule loads while I am gone!”
“Do you not trust us then, sir?” called
a soldier sitting outside a tent sorting his gear.
“Na, Lucius, I
would rather trust a whore to stay virtuous in the men’s bathhouse,” Arthur
answered brightly, a smile playing on his mouth. The men nearby laughed
good-natured, knowing they would not have been picked for this duty were they
not trusted. Escorting gold was not a task for the unreliable.
Vaulting into the saddle, Arthur heeled
his stallion to canter away across the short, springy turf that in wetter
months would be soft and bog bound. He reined in some distance up the hill, Cei
bringing his mount round to stay close. They let the horses’ heads drop to tear
at the grass, which held little goodness in this bleak, wind-teased landscape. Arthur
shifted in the saddle and hooked his leg around one of the two forward pommel
horns, rested his arm on his crooked knee. Eira grazed, his sensitive muzzle
searching for choice eating.
“What are we doing here, Cei?” Arthur
asked after watching the lazy swirl of smoke from campfires for a while.
“We are sitting up here thinking of the
men down there preparing our supper,” the big man beside him answered jovially.
“And we are bringing a full load of gold from the mines to our bastard of a
king. Your action was wrong, you know.”
Arthur glanced sharply across at Cei
and frowned. He had known Cei would eventually say something about what had
happened.
“The mines must be kept working,” he
said.
“To fill
Vortigern’s treasury? Is that worth the killing and maiming of slaves?”
“Is it the death of a few slaves you
object to then? Or that we are guarding and carrying gold for the King?” Arthur
replied angrily, for Cei’s words stung – the more so because he knew him to be
right.
Website:
Thoughts from a Devonshire Farmhouse
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Start Here: January 2024 https://ofhistoryandkings.blogspot.com/2024/01/thoughts-from-devonshire-farmhouse.html
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Historical Stories of Exile by 13 popular authors Cryssa Bazos, Anna Belfrage, Elizabeth Chadwick, Cathie Dunn, J.G. Harlond, Helen Hollick, Loretta Livingstone, Amy Maroney Alison Morton, Charlene Newcomb, Elizabeth St.John, Marian L Thorpe, Annie Whitehead. With an introduction by Deborah Swift |
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