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Book Title: On a Sword’s Edge
Series: The Swords of Scotland
Author: JR Tomlin
Publication Date: November 16th, 2024
Publisher: independently-published
Pages: 159
Genre: Historical Fiction / Scottish Historical Fiction
Scotland. 1263. The scent of rain mingles with the smoke of campfires as word spreads: the Norse are coming…
As tempers rise between King Alexander and the Norse King Haakon, at the center of it all is sixteen-year-old William Douglas, a squire in service to Sir John Stewart, Lord High Steward of Scotland.
When Haakon's fearsome fleet is espied approaching Scotland's shores, carrying the greatest invasion force the Norse have ever mustered, the dread of battle settles over the land. Summoned to Ayr Castle, William joins the Scottish forces in a desperate defense. Now tasked with serving his newly knighted brother, Hugh, William has little time to dwell on the fear – or thrill – of his first real taste of war.
And once the Norse's menacing line of ships finally touches shore, Scotland's fate may rest on more than noble titles and knightly deeds— it'll take the mettle of every soul on the ground for them to triumph.
Set against the wind-swept coast of medieval Scotland, On a Sword's Edge takes you right into the center of The Battle of Largs alongside a mere – yet fearless – squire.
Universal Buy Link: https://books2read.com/u/3R7l8D
When JR isn’t writing, she enjoys spending time hiking, playing with her Westie, and killing monsters in computer games. In addition to having lived in Scotland, she has traveled in the US, Europe and the Pacific Rim. She now lives in Oregon in the beautiful Pacific Northwest.
On a Sword’s Edge
Excerpt
Father turned back and laid his gaze sadly on Hugh. “Nae. Remain here with your brother. If you are needed, I shall send for you.” He took a rasping breath. “And if there is a… a change, you come tell me.”
After the open wound was cleaned and bandaged, Brother Aidan covered it with a thick pad so we could turn Hugh onto his back. Removing his hauberk without hurting him seemed impossible. I just removed his gauntlets, worked the sabaton from his feet, and then chausses from his limp legs.
He was motionless, unaware of anything around him. Terrified, I fell to my knees beside my brother’s pallet and laid my hand on his chest. His chest rose and fell.
The day passed with agonizing slowness. More injured limped or were carried in. Brother Aidan checked Hugh’s bandage, his face looking grim, and replaced it. Moans and mutters calling for someone were a faint background to my misery. A scream of pain jerked me out of my fog. They were holding someone down as they straightened his broken leg, so I helped with that. But I could not stand to leave Hugh. What if he woke up alone? So I returned to his side.
“William,” Maldouen said and knelt beside me, making me jerk in surprise. “Your father sent me to tell you that the leaders are talking about mayhap having some sort of truce. So you are nae needed. He said you must nae fash yourself.” He crossed himself. “I will keep praying for him. He is a good man.”
I was not sure how much later it was when Father came. He knelt and brushed Hugh’s hair back from his face and called Brother Aidan over. “How long does he have, brother?”
The monk shook his head and laid a hand on my father’s shoulder. “The bleeding has slowed, but I see signs of corruption. Where it is in the head, I cannae lie that I have any hope of his living.”
Clamping a hand over his mouth, Father stifled a groan. But my chest was frozen, and I could not make a sound. We knelt together and Father said the prayers that I was too choked to speak. It was a summer day like this, the last time we had ridden through the dale. His mount had been much faster than my palfrey. Laughing, he had kicked to a gallop and left me far behind, but after a while, he had stopped and waited for me to catch up. We cooled off, swimming naked in the Douglas Water. Then, the next day, we each left for our own duties. We would never do that again.
When I touched Hugh’s hand, he was as hot as a smith’s forge. Sweat beaded on his forehead and dribbled down his flushed face. A solemn-faced monk, another, not Brother Aidan, brought me a bowl of water. I tore a strip of cloth from my surcoat and wet it. Crouched beside him, I wiped his forehead, neck, and hands. “Hugh, dinnae you die on me,” I begged. “I am nae finished with you.”
Suddenly, he flailed his arms and tossed his head, shouting garbled words. His poor head! Father held him so he did not injure himself as I sponged him.
When the flailing stopped, I laid my hand on his chest. It was still. I bent over and pressed my ear to his chest, but there was no thud of his heart. I held my hand over his nose, begging for the feel of his breath. Nothing.
He was gone.
Father moaned as he closed Hugh’s eyes.
Tears burned my eyes and ran down my cheeks. I will never see you again in this world, my brother. Never again gallop through the dale, chasing the wind. Never call you a beloved loon…
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