In preparation for the Facebook Launch Party I've organised some blog visits to spread the world about my latest book release. I also sent out a press release to my local media outlets and I've certainly been successful with my local Inverusrie Herald who put on a spectactular 'page 3' spread for me.
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Psst - it's already at...
- #48 in Books > Fiction > Romance > Historical Romance > Ancient World
AD
80 One Moon After Beltane – Damnonii
Territory
As Brennus made his
way into the lands of the Damnonii, the news from each new village and hamlet
was increasingly disturbing. Evidence of Roman patrols seemed to be everywhere.
The settlers who lived in the coastal villages had alarming tales to tell of
many sightings of Roman vessels which had been seen hugging the shoreline.
“Do they beach the ships at any
time?” This question of his had been voiced in many places.
The answer seemed to be consistent.
“Aye, they do. Small Roman patrols disembark and make small camps, their first
stop always to establish a nearby water supply. They terrify the farmers and
villagers across the territory but have only engaged in attacking the locals if
they are directly threatened.”
“Has that happened often?”
The next part was also consistent.
“Aye! Those who are left flee. They have no wish to die under a Roman gladius
but they have been able to return to their soil fairly soon after. The Roman
patrols make their observations and then leave quickly.”
“These ships do not disgorge
hundreds of soldiers? They do not build any of their small forts?”
“Nay! Only small numbers of the
Roman scum come to shore but do not linger. They move quickly across the land.”
“Where do they go when they leave
their first camps?” Brennus had a feeling the answer would not be favourable.
“Where, I am not sure, but I suppose
they must go back to their vessels because they sail off after only a few
days.”
Brennus nodded; it sounded very much
like Roman tactics. “Aye. I can believe that. Once they take on a fresh water
supply, and the venators bring some kill, that would be time for them to
leave.”
His guides could not say if the
people who dwelled well away from the coast had seen any Roman presence,
therefore he deemed it necessary to travel inland. It was high summer so the
travelling was fair. The terrain they traversed was peppered with undulating
hills, the population who settled there fairly sparse. Some of the even higher
slopes were much like the hills between the Brigantes and Selgovae, the
moorland too wild and inhospitable for crop growing. He was not surprised to
hear of few dwellings there and was glad his guide knew how to skirt the
highest peaks to find habitation.
At each new hamlet, his question
rarely varied and his answers were returned in like fashion.
“We are valley farmers, Bran. We
only see our nearest neighbours a few times over the seasons when we celebrate
our feast times, but we have certainly not seen these soldiers you describe to
us.”
At every stop, he pulled out his ocarina and
flute and entertained the settlers, Nith and Esk providing some fare for their
communal eating. At every stop, he established a strong chain of messengers.
And at every stop he looked for a leader who would rouse the people into action
against the Roman Empire – but nowhere did he
find that man. He would not allow himself to become despondent, though it was a
trial to carry on at times. The farmers he spoke to would fight for their own
land, there was no doubt of that, but there was a great reluctance to fight
against an enemy they had only heard talk of around the fireside.
Slainthe!
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