One of the best things about the Historical Fiction community is that it is a community. Through it, I've discovered some fantastic authors, who write some amazing works of art. I'm delighted to share a review today from one lady who I met through the online Historical Fiction community, and whose fabulous new book Hiding the Flame launched on Monday. I was fortunate enough to have a sneak peek of the book before it was released, and it's been great to share in some of the excitement about this new novel. But, before I share my thoughts, let's meet the book... Florence, 1497. A city ablaze with religious fear. A woman forced to hide her art. And a love so dangerous it could cost her everything. Francesca Rosini, a gifted but silenced painter, lives under the strict rule of her husband - a man whose devotion to Savonarola’s puritanical revolution leaves no room for beauty, tenderness, or truth. While Bonfires of the Vanities burn paintings, books, and anything deemed ...
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
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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