Venator
Roman Equestrian Series
by A.M. Swink
Britannia, AD 59.
Decimus is a long-serving senior centurion who dreams of retirement in Rome. Luciana is a Cornovii princess devoted to the freedom and survival of her tribe. Connected only by a passion for horsemanship, the pair could not be more ill-matched. After a deadly conflict thrusts these enemies together, each is determined to fight their desires and triumph over the other. Who will ultimately control the other’s heart?
But Decimus and Luciana are not the only ones on the hunt for supremacy; a desperate struggle over the province is beginning to simmer to a boil. There are whispers of mysterious Druids fomenting unrest among the western British tribes, whose inter-tribal divisions threaten to subsume them. The future of the Roman legions in the province is suddenly thrown into doubt as casualties begin to mount. Decimus and Luciana find themselves entangled within a web of characters, Briton and Roman, playing with Britannia’s destiny to serve their own ends. The hunt for power is on, where only one side can emerge triumphant. But just who among these hunters will end up hunted?
Fans of Anya Seton's The Mistletoe and Sword, Stephen A. McKay's The Druid, and Simon Scarrow's Eagles of the Empire series will be utterly swept away by this emotional charged page-turner about two people captured by mutual passions and embroiled in the destiny of Rome and Britain, as well as their own.
Decimus’s pulse quickened. ‘Everyone form square! On the double!’
He whirled around to face the treeline, creating the edge of one corner as the men formed up, linking shields around him. He silently cursed the fact that the half-century’s pila were sitting uselessly in a pile on the opposite side of the moor – a spear worked best when confronting a mounted enemy. He looked over his shoulder to find Vulso just behind. ‘What are their numbers?’
‘Forty at least, sir. Probably more.’
‘Fortuna, you old bitch,’ Decimus softly swore. He craned his head and lifted his voice to carry along the lines. ‘Swords ready! Hold formation! Aim for the horses; we’ve got to get those bastards dismounted!’
No sooner had he turned around to face the forest than the British horsemen charged forth from the trees. Time slowed as Decimus took their features in. The compact shaggy beasts they rode rolled their eyes, nostrils puffing visible smoke in the cold air. The warriors’ fierce expressions, accentuated by their intricate woad tattoos and blood-curdling war cries, were enough to make any man’s blood run cold. They brandished their lengthy swords above their heads, long braids and pigtails streaming in the air behind them. Sunlight glinted off the sharpened blades and the glittering torcs that adorned their arms and necks. Their oval shields, skins stretched tight across and embossed with iron, depicted tribal symbols Decimus knew all too well: Silures. Their brightly dyed leggings and fur boots, highlighted against the stark wintry landscape, urged the ponies forward in a triple line, making straight for the Roman soldiers. A whiff of shit within the ranks indicated some of the legionaries had indeed been cowed.
‘Roma!’ Decimus cried defiantly just as the first wave of horsemen smashed into the square. He crouched low and thrust his gladius directly into the nearest horse’s neck. The beast crashed to the ground behind the centurion with a strangled whinny, sending his rider flying. He whirled around and thrust his shield high to parry a sword blow from the next rider. He feinted towards the man’s thigh, causing his opponent to accordingly lower his shield. When the warrior swung his sword again, Decimus ducked inside the weapon’s arc and drove his gladius into the rider’s stomach. He wrenched the blade once and withdrew as the rider slumped over, dark blood gushing from the wound.
Decimus caught a movement in the corner of his eye and turned towards a large warrior approaching on foot. He thrust his scutum forward and felt his arm shudder from the impact of the Silure ramming his sword into the metalled wood. The tip of the blade poked through the canvas lining on the reverse side, coming within a hair’s breadth of Decimus’s face. He heard the Briton’s hoarse laugh and gritted his teeth. He thrust his gladius over the top of his shield, penetrating the warrior directly through his eye. The man fell silent as his skull cracked, brains spilling out onto Decimus’s blade.
The centurion looked around him at the men fighting either side, grasping his useless, unwieldy shield. His men were fighting ably given their considerable disadvantage, but the Silure band had already claimed several casualties. The strength of the square grew increasingly weak as the men stepped over their fallen comrades to fill gaps in the shield line. The ground immediately behind him lay strewn with scarlet-clad corpses.
He ducked down and hurriedly picked up a shield from one of the downed legionaries, tossing his old one aside. As soon as he popped back upright, his brilliant red crest drew more of the enemy his way. An angry, raven-haired man bellowed, drawing the others back. He sawed the reins of his horse directly into the centurion’s path and drove him forward. His skin bore more of the woad dye than his comrades’, and his heavy winter cloak, trimmed in fox fur and fastened about his broad shoulders with large, burnished gold pins, was of a rich, purple wool. Two eyeless heads, fastened to the rider’s saddle by the hair, clattered against the horse’s shoulder. The warrior bent low, sword aimed for Decimus’s head.
Decimus ducked and swerved to avoid being trampled under the horse’s feet. The warrior smashed the flat of his blade down against the centurion’s helmet, knocking the crest over against the back of his head. The world flashed bright before Decimus’s eyes and he felt his legs crumple. He regained his wits just enough to dive underneath the horse’s abdomen as the warrior moved to deal the killing blow. He pressed his shield against the horse’s clattering hooves and thrust his gladius up inside the horse’s stomach. He sawed it back and forth, deepening the wound. The horse reared back off his blade, throwing its rider to the ground. The horse galloped away from the melee, intestines trailing from its abdomen.
Decimus sprang to his feet just in time to see his opponent rush him from on foot. The black-haired warrior expertly parried his thrust, swinging his own sword towards the centurion. Decimus crouched behind his scutum, moving with the momentum of the warrior’s charge and effectively blocking his feints. Suddenly, to his surprise, the warrior ducked down and rolled aside to avoid one of Decimus’s thrusts. Before the centurion could wheel his shield to follow the swift movement, the Silure had risen to a crouch and plunged his sword into Decimus’s thigh.
The world turned red before Decimus’s eyes. Searing pain shot through his frame. He dropped his shield to clutch at the driven blade. The man leant against the hilt to shove his sword in further and Decimus swept his gladius down over the warrior’s knuckles. His blade severed the bones with a swift crunch. The Silure howled and quickly withdrew his hand. The tips of his fingers dropped into the snow by Decimus’s feet. A bright trail of blood followed the warrior’s path as he retreated towards the forest.
A. M. Swink
A native of Dayton, Ohio, A.M. Swink grew up obsessed with two things: books and horses. After a childhood of reading, writing, showing, and riding, she moved to Lexington, Kentucky to complete a degree in equine science and management and a degree in English literary studies. She now works in Lexington as a college professor of reading and writing.
In her spare time, she has travelled extensively around the UK and Ireland, exploring ancient sites and artefacts, as well as tracing her own ancestry. She is proud to be descended from County Cork’s Callaghan clan.
When not writing, she can be found collecting and showing model horses or enjoying her favourite British comedy programmes.
Thank you so much for hosting my book on your blog and setting up this incredible blog tour! I really, really appreciate it!
ReplyDeleteYou're very welcome. I'm delighted you're enjoying your tour. All the best. :-)
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