Today it is my pleasure to feature Planters of the Crown by Patrick Highers, a historical novel about the Reformation and Ireland. Mr. Highers has also graciously given me three copies of the 1st book in the series for a giveaway! All you need to do to win is tell me your favorite historical person and why in the comment section below the post. That is it, of course, please leave me a way to get in touch with you should you be lucky enough to win.
Book Details
- Paperback: 402 pages
- Publisher: Tate Publishing (April 7, 2015)
- Language: English
- ISBN-10: 1634499360
- ISBN-13: 978-1634499361
Cora came from nothing but experienced everything in a time of piracy, legend, and brutal persecution. Propelled by forces beyond her control, Cora endures the life of a planter in 16th century Ireland only to discover that those she trusted most would betray her. Her story is about powerful women and a man who could change her fate forever. Ireland's story is about the rule of Queen Elizabeth and those that opposed the monarchy. Grit and intensity, turbulent times of high adventure and drama, mire Cora's life with an uncertain fate. Will her every hardship bring an equal or greater blessing? She did not know, but she was ready to fight for all that she had learned to love. It was the Reformation; it was Ireland.
Patrick Highers has recently completed his first novel, 'Planters Book of Cora' and is working on his second novel in this series, 'Planters Book of Barbarians'. He is a North Carolina native and history enthusiast. Patrick holds a Bachelor of Arts in Business and currently works in public service.
http://patrickhighers.tateauthor.com/ Purchase Links Available in Paperback, Kindle, Nook.
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My Review!
Gerald Fitzgerald, the ninth earl of Ireland, is imprisoned in the Tower of London for treason. He has just been made aware that his heir, Thomas, is dead. King Henry VIII, Gerald thinks has gone mad, he believes the imposters and pretenders. They want to turn his country against the crown and lead Ireland to war. It was the Reformation; It was Ireland.
Twenty years later:
Cora is a young woman living above a pub on Newgate Street in London. She works at the pub, she is part of the place, no one pays attention to her. She is pregnant and sold into slavery. Soon she is on a ship on her way to Ireland to work as a planter. On the ship, she meets two young men Eon and Randolph, whose lives will be intertwined with hers throughout the novel.
Miquel Avaje Fernandez is a man who is devoted to the Pope, captured by the Spaniards and sent to the shipyards at Southsea Castle. He is devoted to the Pope, who is his benefactor. He was with the Pope when word came of the fall of Queen Mary and the rise of Elizabeth I. He escapes and heads to Monmouth where he seeks the remaining monks who survived to keep the flames of the Romain faith burning. He finds them and makes them his 'apostles...to help him fulfill his mission.
Many other characters fill up the pages of this historical novel. Captain Roderick, the captain of the ship Cora, is on, Henry, his wife Emma and their daughter Agnes, Grace O'Malley, Irish female pirate and so many others. I love historical fiction, and I found Planters of the Crown to be well researched and tells the story of Irish freedom and how they fought the English Queen to keep their land and faith. Strong women dominate the story as they also fight for what they believe in. Victims and heroes alike tell a story that will keep you up at night. I look forward to the next in the series! Wonderful story!
I received a copy of the book for review and was not compensated in any way.
Read an Excerpt:
An excerpt from the chapter, Brittle Ground: Ice covered everything in a crystalline film of intricately woven fibers, forming as the morning dew refused to evaporate and steadfastly clung to solid form. It was the coldest day of the season—a frost that came with a freezing that would last for months. The penetrating chill reached down into the earth without mercy to lock every living thing that might crawl or burrow in perpetual dormancy. This was a day that the dead would be counted and the living would blunder through the momentous task of breaking earth and picking stones. The planters were hauling the bodies out of the small community, and up onto the hilly ground outside the town of Carraigaholley. Richard rode behind, sickened with each turn as the thumping misshapen wheel banged down, jarring the corpses with unmerciful regularity. The canvas tarp had worked itself loose again and was flapping in the wind. His horse strained to break free and run past an outstretched arm that jutted out of the pile. The cold gray forearm disappearing in a mass of hair and bloody cloth that hinted of the gruesome cargo. He knew they were stacked under the tarp like cordwood, one atop the other. The cracked wood of the oxcart bowed at the sides, and he turned his eyes to avoid looking at the backs of the women marching up ahead. “Seven, not counting the girl,” Richard told Darby, the husky farmer who galloped up beside him. Darby was his friend; he was trusted among the chiefs, and Richard was grateful for his presence today. “Seven of our men, or seven in all?” Darby asked. “Seven of the English and one little girl. The mother’s up ahead.” Darby shook his head sadly. He was a broad-shouldered man with gentle blue eyes and a graying red beard that extended all the way down to his navel. “Where is the little one? How old was she?” Darby asked as his eyes showed a remorse that indicated a fatherly concern. “Her mother took her . . . last night, alone. The woman wrapped the girl’s body, couldn’t have been more than eight or nine years old.” Richard had not noticed the child among them; he remembered only the two boys, but he knew of the girl now. “I gave the mother what she needed.” Anything he thought to spare her more grief. Darby began to say something, his questioning eyes giving tell to the thoughts that Richard answered before he could speak. “The mother said she needed a knife and cloth and would accept nothing else.” Darby looked at the back of the women’s heads. They looked beaten, inconsolable. “Strange. Does she not have a man to comfort her, to help her?” Darby asked, noticing Emma Colley walking alone way ahead of the rest and carrying a handbag that seemed lavishly out of place among the mourners. Richard knew where her husband was but didn’t answer; the sickness of his wife’s attack had finally hit him. “What happened? What went wrong?” Darby asked. Richard was fixed in a position now because of Grace, his mind not really hearing what Darby was saying. “I’ll help them. I’ll help the women put these poor souls to rest,” Darby said, knowing his chief was preoccupied. “There are some that are able to dig, Darby. They are at the gravesite now, pulling the sod and piling the stones. Best leave them alone.” The two men watched on horseback from a distance as the planters made it to the summit and joined the men to bury their loved as well as the crew of theHumbart Keel.
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