Buy from Amazon Australia read an extract The road lifts to a bridge over the Foss itself where Whitecarr Beck s it, and as we clatter across a heron turns its head to gauge this new threat, then shakes its secget out and with a few, quick steps rises into the air.
I am look nsa
The body has its own memory. She was big, even for a goshawk, and her name was Juno.
When she bated on her block in the mews her wings were the best part of four feet from primary to primary, and my care for her, that summer, was such that any day I could have told her weight down to the nearest ounce and grain. Even now I remember the steely blue-grey gloss of her back as if I could touch it, the soft, white, speckled chest-feathers that she would let me rub when her mood was good, her long, strong legs that took possession of my fist like a conqueror.
Now, gently off with her hood.
Let her see it first. She turned her black-capped head, her gaze fixing on each part of her new surroundings in turn, like a bowman on guard duty.
I did my best to throw Juno into the air. My arm was puny against the weight and power of her surge and my hand clenched tighter before I realised and opened it and let the jesses go.
Ellashaye's secret women's business
US edition read the reviews "There is historical fiction - and there is historical fiction. Anyone can dust down a set of fusty old names, chuck in a few mead-fuelled brawls and the odd syphilitic courtesan and be done with it. It takes real skill - and devotion - to bring characters blurred by the passage of time into focus, to breathe real life into them, to make their existence tangible to the 21st-century mind.
Passion is also the key to the success of this book.
Not your standard, cinematic carnal passion although there is enough of that: the scene in which Edward proposes to Elizabeth is worthy of the steamiest Andrew Davies bodice-ripper ; rather Darwin's evident and genuine passion for her subject: history. There are several great love affairs to be found in these s - but perhaps the greatest is the author's own with the past: the gossamer-thin thre of memory, real and imagined - and the shimmering web that they weave.
As the tragic darain in secrte own life lead her to the ghosts of these long-dead noblemen and women, so she le the reader through the maze of the past.
Slowly, meticulously Darwin builds an intensely atmospheric narrative. Her characters emerge from the rough marble of time into beautifully rounded, polished figures. It takes a while for the reader to get to know them; but when you do, the depth of the acquaintance is such that you feel their fates all the more acutely.
There are Washington twists and turns in this tale, some of them real, some of them not; together they add up to a spellbinding whole. What does she make of the mystery of the little princes in the Tower?