Title: Dark Child
Author: Miriam Newman
About the book
Born at a royal banquet
for King Conor MacNessa of Ulster
Excerpt:
Once inside, the king and his guests found beef and mutton
and pork…fowl and venison and fine, firm
pink salmon borne on ice across the sea from Alba where ice was often to be
found. Curds and whey they had, and all
else that a dairy might supply. There
were breads and cakes, pies and pasties of every sort and great quantities of
wine, honey mead and ale both light and dark.
Yet so deep went Conor’s unease that he had no appetite for them.
Singers, dancers and musicians both foreign and native performed, male and
female alike, but the crash and roar of the storm drowned out the sounds of
their merry-making. Men marked that
never had such a storm visited Ulster
“Nonsense,” Felim insisted stoutly as the king merely
nibbled at his food, for he saw all his plans dashed to destruction and the
favor he wished of Conor turned to stone.
“’Tis but a storm!”
Hardly had the words left the storyteller’s mouth than a
terrifying scream split the air, a sound to raise the bristle hair on a hound’s
back.
“’Tis only my wife, who labors,” Felim insisted, but the
king took not a bite further of his food and sat with a pale and ashen face.
“’Bring her here,” Conor ordered, “that I may see if that is
the scream of any mortal woman, for I much doubt it.”
And so the unfortunate woman was required to present herself
to the king.
“Tell me true,” Conor demanded, “was it you who screamed?”
Felim’s haggard and trembling wife, fearing for her life,
nonetheless shook her head, for she knew her maidservants would give her away
if she lied to the great king.
“Nay, my lord,” she replied.
“’Tis the child that screamed from inside my womb.”
“This is a thing I have never known!” Conor exclaimed, while
beside him his druid Catha stood
abruptly to lay a hand upon the mother’s belly, his expression dire.
“’Tis the scream of a girl child,” he predicted, “and her
name will be Deirdre, the call of alarm, for she will bring war.”
About the Author
Fantasy poetry driven by myths and legends has been
my passion for as long as I can remember. I was published in poetry before
catching the romance writing bug. I bring that background to my writing along
with a lifelong addiction to horses, an 18 year career in various areas of
psychiatric social services and many trips to Ireland Pennsylvania
twitter@miriam
newman
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3 Comments
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