Conquered Hearts
Book 3
Emily Murdoch
Genre: Historical Romance, Medieval.
Publisher: Endeavour Press
Number of pages: 222
Book Description:
Normandy. 1067.
England has been brought to its knees by the invasion of William the Conqueror and his Norman troops.
Lady Catheryn, an Anglo-Saxon noblewoman, is taken against her will to Normandy after the invasion.
She arrives, a prisoner, at the castle of Lord Geffrei, a ruthless invader who hopes to gain a ransom for her.
Her husband Selwyn is dead, slain in the Conquest, and her daughter Annis has been left behind in England at the mercy of the invaders.
Catheryn is treated like an animal, and left in a cell until she begins to despair.
When Queen Matilda, William the Conqueror’s wife, sees her plight, she takes pity on her.
Catheryn is sent to the castle of the noble FitzOsberns – but will her new captivity be any better than the cruelty she faced at Geffrei’s hands?
She finds her hostess cold and embittered, but when her husband William FitzOsbern returns from the Conquest, Catheryn’s heart is torn by unwanted emotions.
She becomes entangled in the quarrels and heartbreaks of her jailers even as she tries to remember her place among them.
Is she falling in love with the man who helped to destroy her homeland?
Can Catheryn betray her Anglo-Saxon roots, and her late husband?
Or will she break free, and find her way back to Annis?
‘Captives’ is a moving historical story of love and loss, and the strength of one woman even in the most dangerous of times. It is the sequel to ‘Conquests’.
'An enthralling saga.' - Robert Foster, best-selling author of 'The Lunar Code'.
Amazon UK | Amazon US
Excerpt:
The prisoner had not
spoken for weeks.
None had expected
it to last this long.
The journey over the wide
sea, back to Normandy, had been a troubled
crossing. Of the five ships
that had left England’s shore, only three had arrived safely, and even those had lost men to
fear and sickness. Those that had not died
or fled muttered underneath their breath.
The prisoner had not complained.
Dressed in clothes
that had seen better days, the prisoner had been forced upon a horse, despite its protestations that it was not strong enough to ride. The cloak
had become torn and stained
over the fortnight-long ride
to the castle of Geffrei,
and the hood was pulled
across the prisoner’s face, obscuring the night. Despite the cold, the prisoner was not
offered a warmer cloak, or a kind word.
The prisoner had barely noticed.
As the sound of the
horses’ hooves slowed, the prisoner
looked up. Through bleary eyes, only a vague
impression of the place at which the company
had arrived could be seen,
but it was imposing even in its vagueness.
A stone
building with several floors, and no light emitting from the few
windows to pierce the darkness
of the evening. No flags
hung from the walls, and the door outside
which they stood was bare,
save for one small handle.
The prisoner closed both eyes.
“You awake?”
The prisoner was dragged down from the horse,
and made to stand, although every bone cried
out for rest. The brim
of the hood fell down
over its eyes. The murmur that the prisoner attempted made no sense.
“Walk, if you know what’s good for
you!”
There were almost
a dozen
knights that had ridden with the prisoner, but one was more
splendidly dressed than the others.
His cloak was lined, offering warmth against the bitter autumnal breeze, and it was
only he who had been fed thoroughly
during the journey.
“My lord
Geffrei!”
The man with the lined
cloak turned to face one
of his men. The others
were lowering themselves from their
horses, and pulling up their
belts over their empty stomachs.
“Yes?” he replied bluntly.
“Food is
required,” said the man, pointing
at the prisoner. “If you
do not want it to
die.”
The prisoner fell.
“Up!” shouted
Geffrei, pacing towards the prisoner
lying on the ground. “You’ll walk, not crawl,
into my home, you dirty
animal!”
A hand reached up, cracked
and sore, from the figure lying on the ground, but no
hand went down to meet
it. Eventually, the prisoner raised itself up from the ground,
and hung its head.
“Now,” breathed Geffrei with malice
in every tone, “on you
go. You’re the guest of honour.”
Cruel laughs rang out as the
prisoner stumbled forwards against the door, clutching at the handle. It turned. The prisoner
leaned, exhausted, against the door.
The room that the prisoner
fell into was the Great
Hall. A small brazier glinted at the far
side of the room, and a medley of dogs unravelled themselves to meet their
guests. Feet sounded around the prisoner as the
men strode in, desperate for warmth.
Geffrei threw himself by the fire
into the only chair in the
room. He turned his eyes
to the prisoner, who had
pulled itself up to stare into his face.
“Well,” he said with a
smirk. “Here we are. We
have finally arrived. What do
you think of your new
home?”
The prisoner stood up, and
with a great effort, spat onto the rushes
on the floor.
Geffrei shook his head with a
smile on his face. “Now, that’s no way
to treat your new home,”
he chastised. “What do you
have to say for yourself?”
The prisoner pulled back the
hood from her face, and shook her long hair and
veil out from under the mud-splattered cloak.
“Where is my
daughter Annis?”
About the Author:
Emily Murdoch is a medieval historian and writer. Throughout her career so far she has examined a codex and transcribed medieval sermons at the Bodleian Library in Oxford, designed part of an exhibition for the Yorkshire Museum, worked as a researcher for a BBC documentary presented by Ian Hislop, and worked at Polesden Lacey with the National Trust. She has a degree in History and English, and a Masters in Medieval Studies, both from the University of York.
Emily is currently working on a new six part book series, as well as writing freelance.
Author Links:
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Tour Giveaway:
5 ebook copies Captives (pdf format)
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