I’ve finally managed to publish a book through the Amazon Kindle programme. FAIR BORDER BRIDE was published briefly in 2009 as Till the Day Go Down, but the publisher went into liquidation very soon afterwards, and returned my rights to me. It seemed a good idea to give Harry and Alina some sort of life rather than abandon them to oblivion, so here is their story – 5,000 words lighter, re-edited and with everything I’ve learned about writing fiction in the intervening three years adding into the final polish.

The setting is Northumberland in 1543. Alina and Harry meet in Corbridge market place and because he is working for his father, the Deputy Lord Warden of the West March, he tells her his name is Harry Scott. Alina’s father is at feud with the entire family Scott, flings Harry into the dungeon at Aydon Castle and threatens him with the Leap next day. Alina creeps out of her bed to visit Harry at midnight when the castle is quiet.

“Tell me,” he said, before he forgot all practical things in the delight of her presence. “Your father threatens me with something called the Leap. What is it?”

“She dipped her head, and he heard her sharp intake of breath. “It’s the ravine, Harry.” She pointed towards the dark bulk of the hall. “On the other side is a ravine. It is deep, with the Ay burn at the bottom. Father…he makes prisoners jump from the precipice outside the hall.”

“Ah.” He raised her knuckles to his mouth, and kissed them to dispel the shadowy presence of Death looming in the darkness behind him. He remembered looking into the ravine the night he rode up here. His tongue probed the cleft between her fingers. She gasped. Harry’s blood sang through his body, and he kissed her knuckles again. “How deep, do you think?”

“Twenty times the height of a man, they say.” She shivered and frowned as she watched him nuzzle her fingers. “There are rocks and trees…”

“And no one survives?”

Her face crumpled. “Oh, Harry, sometimes they do, but they are broken, twisted creatures—”

A deep voice sounded from above, and Alina flung up her head. “Matho, please!”

Matho must have agreed, for she turned back to Harry. Her hand had warmed in his and when he kissed it once more, her other hand snaked through the bars and stroked his face, crept to the back of his neck.

“Ah, Alina,” he murmured. “Would that we had no iron bars between us.”

His flesh hardened. If this was his last night on earth, he wanted some pleasure to beguile his thoughts. He reached both hands through the grill and drew her close against the iron bars and in truth she was not reluctant, even when his hand roamed beneath her cloak, caught a ribbon and her nightgown gaped from neck to waist. His palm found the firm weight and curve of her breast and nestled around it.”

You can find FAIR BORDER BRIDE on either of the links:  http://tiny.cc/g7ddy and http://tiny.cc/930k5

Thoughts from a reviewer

Till the Day Go Down
Jen Black Quaestor2000. 2009. £9.99, pb, 203pp, 9781906836177 also LP
9781906836184

"The border country between England and Scotland is a lawless and dangerous place in the mid-sixteenth century, so when Harry Wharton, travelling through Northumberland on a secret mission to Edinburgh in the summer of 1543, encounters the alluring Alina Carnaby of Aydon Hall at Corbridge market, he gives a false name. The alias could not be worse chosen, for as Alina casually informs him, “my father hates every Scot ever born.”
Thus begins a lively adventure and a passionate romance, for who is to doubt that Harry and Alina are made for each other, if they can only overcome the plentiful obstacles thrown in their way.
I was slightly distracted by the odd quirky simile (our heroine’s thoughts bobbing about like rabbits in a field) and a couple of encounters between characters that seemed far too convenient. Alina’s tendency to “squawk” or “bleat” in moments of stress did no justice at all to this strong-willed, independent–minded young lady.
That said, Jen Black writes with great verve and gives us a vivid sense of time and place, with a hero and a heroine to cheer for and a grand cast of supporting characters, especially the loyal village lad Matho, Alina’s childhood friend.
(Aydon is a real village, and there is an Aydon Castle, which appears much as it does in this book – it dates from the 13th century and was renovated in the mid-16th century.)

Mary Seeley.
Historical Novels Review Issue 52, May 2010, p 26

I was pleased with this review but don't know how or where to reach Ms Seeley, so must tender my thanks here.

Last night I tried using the Options function in Blogger and entered this post to be "posted" at a little past midnight ready for the following day. I opened up my computer this morning, and see it hasn't appeared, so being of an impatient disposition, immediately did it the normal way. Sod's law suggests that at some point today, Blogger will swing into action and post it for a second time. If that happens, I can only apologise, and grit my teeth.

Romantic buildings

I blogged about Aydon Castle on Lindsay's blog yesterday, and found I wasn't the only person who loved Aydon. Encouraged by the response, I thought I'd add more pictures. This shot of the north facing corner looking out over the orchard shows the lovely old windows, and the more utilitarian 'new' windows added later - though still a long time ago as far as we're concerned!

The second picture shows the garderobe tower. This is perched about two feet from the ravine, and the garderobe shoot would jettison straight over the edge. When I looked up at the battlements, I saw a gargoyle run-off spout positioned right above. Clever, I thought. When it rained, the gargoyle would spout rainwater down onto whatever nasties had gathered below and wash it over into the ravine. Old-fashioned plumbing at it's best! Failing that, some unlucky fellow with a shovel would have to do the necessary.

Some experts think that the upper floor of the tower did duty as the bedchamber for the lord and lady. It had two windows, a garderobe and a spout for emptying washing water direct to the outside.

I suppose that would have been the height of luxury in 1400. Tapestires on the wall, a brazier with hot coals as well as a fireplace, and it would have been qute cosy on a summer's day. On a winter night, with the wind howling outside, I'm not so sure. Stone makes you feel cold, even if the weather is warm, and typical British weather does not usually warm stone as it does in France. I once sat on a stone wall after a long uphill drag to visit a castle in the blazing sunshine of the Dordogne and almost singed my nether regions. Luckily I have fast reflexes!

The other thing was that with a bed in the room, there would have been little room to move around. Either that, or they had very small beds. There would have been little privacy either; the bed could hardly have been more than a couple of feet from the garderobe! Let's hope they had nice thick bed curtains all round.

Makes me think that the ultra modern mode we've seen in the last year or two a la Grand Designs in which houses are built without internal doors, except on guest rooms, are not all that modern after all.

But I still wouldn't want the doorless toilet-cum-bathroom within a few feet of my bed!