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#HistFicThursdays - Beyond the Dark Oceans by Alison Huntingford - Guest Post

  It is always great to find a book inspired by real people, and even better to find one inspired by the writer's own family research. For today's #HistFicThursdays blog, I am thrilled to be welcoming  Alison Huntingford  to the blog with a guest post about her book  Beyond the Dark Ocean ,   as part of her  Coffee Pot Book Club  tour! Read on to find out about how her own family history inspired her new book, and her process of researching it. But first, let's meet the book... Blurb A family united, a family divided… In 1906, the Huntingford family leaves England for a hopeful new life in Canada, but for eldest son Georgy, the promise of opportunity quickly becomes a test of endurance, responsibility, and fate. As he comes of age amid the hardships of immigrant life, the outbreak of the First World War pulls him back across the ocean and into a world forever changed by loss and sacrifice. When Georgy’s brother disappears in the chaos of war, grief and...
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#HistFicThursdays - The Weave of the Norns - Free Poem

 Continuing from last week's post which explored Artwork as Inspiration (the starting point for Proof of the Old Faith) I'm sticking with Norse culture. Here is The Weave of the Norns, a poem I wrote a few years ago about these three frightening women.

Enjoy!

The Norns by Arthur Rackham


Weave of the Norns
Beneath the threat of utter doom
he sought them at their fabled loom.
The king searched on until he found
them on the morrow’s battleground.
The tallest worked the wheel alone;
the next, a shuttle made of bone;
the shortest bore a silver sword
with which she severed each loose cord.
What pattern spun these women three,
dictating mankind’s victory!
“I come to beg you demonstrate
a gentle weaving of our fate.”
“Then know you this, oh man of peace,
we weave the thread and cannot cease.”
“Weave us an ending to this war
and grant us threads of peace once more.”
“What cost would such a wise man pay
for us to change our weave this way?”
And now he saw the bloody thread,
time’s fabric dripping crimson red.
As though she took him in her hand
he felt her pull aside one strand.
“You have forgone your chance to leave.
Your life is foretold in the weave.”
The sword cut clear, the thread hung down,
the mediator lost his crown.
For Fate demands a sacrifice
to cast aside her weighted dice.

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