Her Norman Conquest
by Elizabeth
M Darcy
1 - What draws your interest to historical romance?
My
qualifications are in English history and English literature so I've always
been drawn to history and writing. I love visiting old buildings and watching
historical series on TV. The book I pick up is usually historical both romance
and non-fiction.
2 - How much research do you do for a historical romance story?
I
spend a long time doing research. I think the ambience an author needs to
include in any story should to be correct historically, both in description and
speech.
3 - Tell us about your current WIP.
I
wrote this story after reading the research from about 20 years ago on my
family tree. I titled the story:
Her Norman Conquest
At the mercy of William the Conqueror, Lady Ann faces
an uncertain future as Norman knights fight for her hand.
4 - You're involved in the RWAus Mentor & RWAus Critique
Program. How important is it to you to help 'novice' authors?
I've
been writing for some time, Elizabeth M Darcy is only one of my pen
names, this year my 50 book was published. So, I think I've enough
experience to help novice writers. I spend a lot of
time working with both critique partners and novice writers. Being a mentor for
me is about as rewarding as signing a new book contract. I really enjoy
helping people period. Sometimes authors just need a simple explanation
or an example to help them overcome a problem. Writing can be very lonely and
having someone to contact for whatever part of the writing or publishing
process is beneficial. Many people have helped me along the way and still do,
so I like to pay it on. 
Blurb: Left alone after the death of all the male members of her household at the Battle of Hastings, Lady Ann finds herself at the mercy of William the Conqueror. The King intends to marry his knights to Saxon gentry. Ann becomes a useful if not uncooperative ally by using her ability to speak French to liaise with the terrified Saxon women and their potential husbands. She falls in love with a devastatingly handsome Norman blacksmith only to discover King William has plans for her to marry one of his knights.
Author:
Born in London, England and now living in Australia, Elizabeth enjoys the thrill of writing YA romance and loves all things magical. She has a passion for history and her sweet historical romance stories are drawn from the history of her heritage to bring readers the delightful imagery of life and love through time. From Norman Knights to Scottish Highlanders and English rakes, Elizabeth creates stories that will remain with the reader long after the final page.
Twitter
@ EMDarcyauthor
Purchase
Links:
Excerpt:
Chapter One
London, 1072
“All unwed landed ladies, widows or maidens of childbearing
age are hereby summoned to Hertfordshire without delay.”
Lady Ann of Par balled her fists and glared up at the
Norman knight, so mighty, reading his declaration from the back of a horse.
Mayhap he believed she would plunge a dagger in his heart. “But, my lord, I
have tenants to oversee, an estate to manage. Your king has slaughtered the men
of my family and all of my father’s loyal men.” She lifted her chin. “I am the
only one left to guide my people.”
The knight stared down at her without compassion. “Gather
your belongings. My patience grows thin.”
She pressed her lips together. Bad enough the new king’s army
had brutally slain the proud Saxon men and left them to rot on the battlefield,
but since the invasion, their mourning wives and daughters had lived in
constant terror of these foreign-speaking brutes. Indeed, few women had
knowledge of the French language as she did. She had heard tales about Norman
knights ransacking estates in search of documents or details regarding their
wealth or lands. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. Dear God! Her turn
had come to join the stream of highborn womenfolk the beasts had bundled into
carts bound for London to meet their death, or worse, forced to marry a
murdering Norman knight.
Conceding defeat, she met his gaze. “Very well, when do we
leave?”
“Sir Paul de Groote will be accompanying you. He will arrive
at daybreak.” His lip curled with contempt. “Make sure you are ready to depart.
Two of my men will remain here to ensure you comply with the king’s orders.”
The stern knight swung his horse around and returned to his troops.
The sun had hardly peeked over the horizon to herald the
arrival of Sir Paul de Groote and his troops at her country estate. He had
impressed her with his courtesy, so unlike the brutish ways she had encountered
from the Norman knights so far. The man was impressively tall and spoke in a
gentle tone. He had appeared genuinely remorseful in his delivery of the
missive from the newly crowned king. Mayhap not all the Normans had such bad
manners.
“You may take your maid and one trunk. We have little room to
spare.” Sir Paul led her towards the cart. “You will be taken to Berkhamsted
Castle and King William will decide your future.” He gave her a tight smile.
“I’m sure you will be impressed at what changes our king has made to England.
He plans to build great castles. Have no fear, all the estates will be properly
managed under Norman rule.”
She bit back a retort—no need to make an enemy of a man who
had at least offered her a modicum of civility. She climbed into the cart with
Meg at her side and watched her beloved home vanish into the morning mist. Aye,
she had heard tell of Berkhamsted Castle created by Robert of Mortain to protect
the king and built with no less than two motes to ensure against any further
Saxon uprising. It would seem the Normans had need for such things. Hours
passed with no respite and the heavens had opened up drenching her by the time
the wooden structure came into view. Cold, hungry and with a failing spirit,
she followed the guards through the courtyard.
Inside the great hall, she gaped in wonder at the impressive
opulence around her. The walls rose high on each side, one covered in
magnificent tapestries. The other displayed a large variety of weaponry, and
centred hung the battered shield depicting King Harold’s coat of arms. A shiver
raced down her spine at the memory of the tales spoken in hushed voices about
the gruesome death of King Harold. The great king had suffered an arrow to the
eye and the Norman butchers had hacked him to pieces. He would turn in his
grave if he could hear French spoken as the tongue of his beloved England.
She smothered a sob. Her sharp intake of breath brought
Meg to her side. She brushed aside the bunched cotton cloth offered by her
maidservant, lifted her chin and stepped into the Great Hall. “Put it away,
Meg, for I fear I have no more tears to shed.”
She pushed down the fear, determined not to cower before the
Normans. All about her, guards stood oppressively close. Musky male scent rose
from their warm bodies enhanced by the dampness from the incessant freezing
rain. She glanced at her ashen-faced maidservant and straightened her soaked
head rail. Anger shivered down her spine. How dare they treat her in such
a manner?
Allowing her attention to wander over the crowd, she
suppressed a gasp. An impressive row of knights stood to one side, straight and
proud, each observing her entrance with interest. She avoided their gazes,
feeling somewhat like a prize horse offered up for sale. She kept her eyes
towards the front, where the Norman King William and Queen Matilda reclined
surrounded by a swarm of buzzing advisors. On one side of the royal pair, a
number of priests in long red robes observed her with blank disinterested
expressions.
Ann tried in vain to control her trembling knees. The
king’s man announced her name. She straightened, determined to appear
dignified. Sir Paul beckoned her forwards with an encouraging smile and her
stomach twisted. This king was a tyrant and he cared nothing for the Saxons.
Her stomach cramped at the fear of standing alone before such a butcher. I will
do this for my father. She lifted her chin. She would not tremble before this
false king in his Norman stronghold. With her heart pounding against her ribs,
she stepped forwards and crossed the rush-covered floor to Sir Paul. He turned
towards her, genuflected in the exaggerated way usual for Normans, and offered
his arm. She accepted his escort and they strolled towards the king.
They stopped before the thrones, and Sir Paul bowed
dramatically low. Ann curtsied, keeping her gaze on the rush-covered
boards. Indignation reared within her and she pressed her lips together lest an
untimely comment spill from her lips.
“May I present Lady Ann of Parr. Her estate is in Cornwall.
She is fluent in French, Your Majesty.” Sir Paul’s meticulous French echoed
around the Great Hall.
King William’s lip curled into a small smile. He leant back
in his throne before passing an inaudible comment to Queen Matilda. He then
returned his dark gaze and full attention towards Ann.
“I am pleased you converse in my language. It will enable you
to convey my wishes to the other landed ladies of this England. I will arrange
betrothals for them with my barons. I will give no quarter. The ladies will
obey my orders. Indeed, such marriages will do much for the stability of
England.”
Ann released a deep breath and in an effort to quell her
rising fear, pressed one trembling hand firmly to her stomach. What would he do
if good Saxon ladies refused? She lifted her chin. “Will you exact a penalty
for those not willing to submit to your plan, Your Majesty?”
No comments:
Post a Comment