Read the equally enthralling sequel to Mayflower Maid. Follow the adventures of Bessie to Jamestown, Virginia in the wake of a dreadful massacre. Witness the harsh realities of life and intrigue in 1623 Jamestown. Relive those dark colonial days through the eyes of an extraordinary Jamestown Woman. Travel back across the Atlantic to witness the awesome rise of the Puritans, the execution of the King of England and learn the fate of the Hickman family of Gainsborough Old Hall as the town is devoured by The English Civil War.
Form the February 2008 edition of ' Historical Novels Review'.
'About a year ago I read and
enjoyed Mayflower Maid, which told the story of an obscure servant woman's
adventures on the ship and in the New World. Now here is the sequel, and as
middle books of trilogies so often tread water I wondered if the high standard
would be there. I need not have worried because this is another excellent book,
dealing with Bessie's reunion with her true husband Thomas, their stay in
Jamestown and subsequent adventures back in England during the Civil War.
This is another book that manages expertly to get under the skin of C17th
people, what drove them, their everyday lives, morals and concerns. There are
probably fewer novels published about this century than any other in the past
half millennium, so this is another treat. Even more so are the almost tangible
descriptions of the places in the story, and the very real-seeming characters
that populate them. No modern folk in historical dress here; this is history
without the varnish and idealization, without too much dwelling on dirt and
despair. I felt that I had read a long story although this is a short book, and
look forward to the final part with relish. Real historical fiction! - Rachel.
A. Hyde
The Story begins...
'They are nearing Martin's Hundred. One man sitting near the
prow snatches up the line then, slipping chest- deep into the stinking
green river , he hauls the boat up to the muddy bank. The rest ,with jack coats
on and muskets ready, quickly jump ashore like deer hurtling over a fallen tree.
They are met by silence. An all enveloping silence, rising up like the thick
black ooze about their leaky leather boots. Not a
bird rises up in alarm. No creature scampers off into the undergrowth.
There is nothing. It is as if even
the great mother-goddess herself is in hiding, too ashamed
to let her presence be known in the wake of what her children have done.
Thomas can smell evil hanging on the air even before the soft
breeze begins to ripple its way through the dense bed of reeds, teasing apart
the cutting blades to mark out a pathway where recent feet have fleetingly trod.
Despite the pounding in his chest and the tightening of his stomach, Thomas too
begins to weave his way through with his comrades close at his heel. Tall
grasses beyond wave and beckon on, in whispers they call – follow if you dare.
He dares.
Soon he and his men are in a tobacco field by a small patch of dark, bare
soil. It is only recently dug over and in it the teeth marks from a rake are
still clear and crisply defined. Discarded, the implement
lies at rest, prostrated head-first down in the earth. Other tools are
haphazardly strewn about. Nearby, a pouch full of
precious tobacco seeds tumble out onto the ground. Some are crushed beneath the
fresh imprint of a moccasin. Further along and in plain sight, a woman's
abandoned shoe lays bereft of its partner. Yet where is she?
All this serves to heighten the dread anticipation.
It is not until then that ?Thomas notices the blood. A red rivulet of it running down the dirt trodden pathway between the remnant rows of last year's crops. It pools, tackily , at his feet. He steps aside and half crouching, tries to trace it back to it's source. It leads him on towards a patch of bowed weeping browned undergrowth. He pauses for a moment, lifts his head and listens again. Still nothing. He glances back across his shoulders to the others. They are fanning out silently making searches of their own , yet none beyond sight of another. Cautiously he follows on with his throat as dry as gunpowder. Leaning in amongst the debris, he suddenly finds a familiar male face staring blankly up at him. Thomas half smiles back in relief before it registers. The head is on a spike. Beside it is the decapitated body of a nodding acquaintance,. They last spoke together in Jamestown only a few days before. Less than a yard onward, long, blonde tresses tumble loosely from the mutilated body of his wife . She is slumped face down, tossed aside like a child's doll. It is too late. Thomas knows that, when they reach the Plantation house, they are going to find everybody dead... '
Jamestown Woman - Available Now From www.domtom.co.uk
Also to order your large print , Braille or Daisy version available also from 2007 contact; info@vimac.com