Dance of Love by Anna Markland - Excerpt

Dance of Love
medieval romance

by Anna Markland
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*Farah is about to dance an eastern dance for a group of Norman knights, among them the hero Isembart, nicknamed Izzy. He suffers from arthritis.*

Izzy inhaled sharply. The vision that swayed and dipped and moved sensuously before him rendered him boneless. Farah wore a red costume that revealed no more of her body than her usual garb, but its form and fit showed every curve and swell of her figure. His eyes raked over her full breasts, fertile hips, taut belly, and long arms.

A veil still hid her face, but her hair flowed freely, adorned with a bright red flower at her temple. He laced his fingers together in his lap, itching to weave them through the thick black glory that reached to Farahs waist. Was the hair at her mons the same texture and color?

The arch of her back as her arms swayed in undulating movements emphasized the swell of her breasts. He thirsted to lave his tongue over the nipples that strained at the fabric, and suckle.

It occurred to him the dance was designed for two. Farah danced with an invisible partner, whom only she saw. He had never danced in his life, but it was all Izzy could do to remain in his seat. He wanted to leap to his feet, mold his body to hers, chest to breast, hip to hip, thigh to thigh, to gaze into her eyes as they moved to the inexorable rhythm.

The click of the castanets drew his eyes to her elegant fingers as they turned and twisted gracefully. Her long nails were painted the same red as her costume. It was an abrupt reminder of his own ugliness, the gnarled and twisted stumps at the end of his arms. Farah would be repulsed if he put his hands on her flesh.

He averted his eyes, bitterness welling up in his throat. He had difficulty breathing. He pressed a palm to his knee to stop the insistent twitching. Again he had allowed this woman to bewitch him.

Gritting his teeth, he glanced at the other members of his family. Dorianne leaned against Robert, her chin perched atop her folded hands, smiling. Elenor de Giroux looked like she might swoon. Denis, Baudoin, Caedmon and even Izzys elderly father were openly appreciative of the performance they watched. Antoine's sons, Adam and Mathieu, and his own brother, Melton, gaped. Izzy was the only one sweating. Every part of his body ached and throbbed, his hands, his head, his groin, and his heart.

When the dance ended, silence filled the room. Berthold finally led the applause. Izzys hands refused to work. Robert would expect him to thank their guest. He was about to come to his feet, deafened by the loud beating of his heart, when he became aware that it was a drumbeat he heard. Farah ran to the screen and emerged holding a curved scabbard.

Everyone sucked in a breath.

Holding the hilt in one hand and the end of the sheath in the other, she raised the weapon above her head, her feet moving to the slow beat of the drum. Lowering her arms she held the sword in front, then to the side, then back to the front, then to the other side. The tempo increased gradually. Farahs feet kept pace.

Suddenly she raised the weapon over her head and drew the sword from its scabbard like a bolt of lightning. A collective gasp rose from the
audience.

Izzy had never seen such a blade before, but Farah twirled it so quickly around her head, and at her sides, leaping over it again and again, that it became a whirling blur of steel. Fear and fascination choked him.

Suddenly she dropped to her knees, breasts heaving, the sword held high. Slowly she lowered it and balanced it on her head like a deadly halo. She reached into a hidden fold of her costume. Light reflected on the metallic objects she extracted and attached to her fingers. She clicked them together, like miniature cymbals.

The drumming had stopped. Now it was his own heartbeat Izzy heard. The shawm player took up the slow refrain. By the time Farah had risen, walked around the hall with her arms outstretched, and resumed her kneeling position, all to the hypnotic rhythm of the music and with the sword perfectly balanced atop her head, cymbals clicking, Izzy was exhausted.

The music ceased. Silence reigned. Suddenly, Farah leapt to her feet with a bloodcurdling yell, a warrior gleam in her eyes. She started to spin, holding the weapon at arms length. The blur of red, black and silver and the tinkling of ankle bells made Izzy light-headed. He felt feverish and sick to his stomach. He feared he would be obliged to make his excuses.

Farah fell to her knees, threw back her head, and pointed the blade to her throat. Dorianne squealed. Izzy squeezed his eyes shut.

Dance of Love

Amazon - Nook - Kobo - Sony - Smashwords

Anna Markland
Passionate About Medieval Romance

http://annamarkland.com/

Getting a Handle on Religious Belief in the Medieval Mindset

In a secular age it can be difficult to comprehend the extent to which religious belief once informed every aspect of life. Yet it’s a vital consideration when writing about the medieval era. In England and in Europe the Catholic Church was all-powerful. It influenced everything from baptismal names to what food could be eaten when and even the days on which one could and could not have sex. Faith was embedded in the culture and in the daily lives of the people. It was also, largely, unquestioned. Common people were illiterate and superstitious. Indeed, many noblemen could barely write their own names. Heaven and hell were not abstract concepts but real places. What one did in life would be weighed in the balance after death and there would be a reckoning. Sin was everywhere. The Devil set traps for the unwary. Miracles were seen to happen.

To create credible heroes and heroines in medieval romance it’s essential to address this. Otherwise the result is little more than a cast of contemporary characters in fancy dress. Achieving character credibility is easier said than done. We’re hundreds of years away from the truth. Besides which, education and opportunity have changed lives in ways that would have been unimaginable to our medieval counterparts. For the writer, getting into the medieval mindset and understanding the significance of religion on individual motivation is a continual exercise of the imagination, backed up by careful research. Visiting historic sites can offer real insights too.

Carcassonne, Languedoc

One of the most memorable for me came while on a recent trip to France. I was visiting Languedoc to undertake some research for a new series of stories. Quite apart from being scenically stunning the whole region is steeped in history: it was the centre of Catharism, an alternative religious view regarded as a heresy by the Catholic Church. When the Church attempted to quash this idea, the region erupted in open rebellion. This clash of religious ideologies resulted in one the bloodiest and most brutal religious repressions of the age.

In order to start my research I based myself in Carcassonne, truly a medieval novelist’s dream offering numerous insights into the past. It’s also an ideal location from which to travel further afield and visit other Cathar fortresses such as Lastours, Puilaurens, Peyreperteuse, Montségur and Quéribus.  Even by today’s standards they are remote. Existing roads are narrow and winding. Directions are not always of the best. However, when you do eventually arrive it’s hard not be impressed. These places are spectacular, standing like great stone eyries on impossible pinnacles of rock. The ascent is often perilous and requires stamina, a head for heights and considerable determination, but the end is worth the effort involved.

Quéribus.

Standing on the ramparts at Quéribus is like standing on the top of the world. The views are stunning. A stronger defensive position would be hard to imagine. The time and effort required to build such a structure is mind-boggling. There were no roads as we know them today so transporting men and materials and supplies overland would have been a logistical nightmare. Even bringing everything round by sea and then by land would have been a massive challenge. Nevertheless, the fortress was built anyway. That begs the question, why? What threat was so great as to require such a degree of protection? Virtually the same problems would have existed for an invader. Who in their right mind would even contemplate attacking such a place? Why would they? How would they? After all, it would take years, cost a fortune and exact a heavy toll in lives.

Lastours

Answering those questions starts to provide a handle on the strength of religious conviction and the extent of religious intolerance in late 12^th and early 13^thCentury France. Time, cost and human lives were no obstacle to the Church in its determination to crush the Cathar heresy that challenged its power. The sheer magnitude of the task was no deterrent. Nor was it hard to recruit soldiers to the cause. All across Northern France noblemen and commoners flocked to the papal banner. The thought of loot would undoubtedly have been an added draw for some, but uppermost in mind was the need to defend the true faith and root out the evil of heresy. It was accomplished with ruthless efficiency and a degree of political cynicism that was remarkable even by the standard of the time. Prior to the sack of Béziers in 1209, the Abbot of Citeaux was asked how the soldiers were to distinguish between the innocent Catholic population of the town and the heretic Cathars. The Abbot allegedly replied, “Kill them all. God will know his own.” The population, estimated to have been between 10,000 – 14,000 people, was duly massacred. Few, if any, of those who carried out the deed doubted that they were doing God’s work and would earn a place in heaven.

This is the mindset that the novelist must get to grips with and which must inform the characters’ motivations. It also has to appear natural and effortless. As I said, it’s no easy feat.

Joanna Fulford

www.joannafulford.co.uk