Book Title: The Midnight of Eights
Series: The Island of Angels (This is book 2 of 2. The first book is called The Mark of the Salamander. Book 2 is written as a stand-alone, or can be read after reading book 1.)
Author: Justin Newland
Publication Date: 28th October 2024
Publisher: The Book Guild
Page Length: 288
Genre: Historical Fiction
The Midnight of Eights
by Justin Newland
Blurb:
1580.
Nelan Michaels docks at Plymouth after sailing around the world aboard the Golden Hind. He seeks only to master his mystical powers – the mark of the salamander, that mysterious spirit of fire – and reunite with his beloved Eleanor.
After delivering a message to Francis Walsingham, he’s recruited into the service of the Queen’s spymaster, where his astral abilities help him to predict and thwart future plots against the realm.
But in 1588, the Spanish Armada threatens England’s shores.
So how could the fledgling navy of a small, misty isle on the edge of mainland Europe repulse the greatest fleet in the world?
Was the Queen right when she claimed it was divine intervention, saying, ‘He blew with His winds, and they were scattered!’?
Or was it an entirely different intervention – the extraordinary conjunction of coincidences that Nelan’s astral powers brought to bear on that fateful Midnight of Eights?
Buy Links:
Universal Buy Link: https://mybook.to/TheMidnightofEights
Author Website (where buyer can enter a dedication): https://www.justinnewland.com/the-midnight-of-eights~193
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Kobo (International): https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/the-midnight-of-eights
Kindle Unlimited:
Author Bio:
Justin Newland’s novels represent an innovative blend of genres from historical adventure to supernatural thriller and magical realism.
Undeterred by the award of a Maths Doctorate, he conceived his debut novel, The Genes of Isis (ISBN 9781789014860, Matador, 2018), an epic fantasy set under Ancient Egyptian skies.
His second book, The Old Dragon’s Head (ISBN 9781789015829, Matador, 2018), and is set in Ming Dynasty China in the shadows of the Great Wall.
Set during the Great Enlightenment, The Coronation (ISBN 9781838591885, Matador, 2019) speculates on the genesis of the most important event in the modern world – the Industrial Revolution.
The Abdication (ISBN 9781800463950, Matador, 2021) is a mystery thriller in which a young woman confronts her faith in a higher purpose and what it means to abdicate that faith.
The Mark of the Salamander (ISBN 9781915853271, Book Guild, 2023), is the first in a two-book series, The Island of Angels. Set in the Elizabethan era, it tells the epic tale of England’s coming of age.
The latest is The Midnight of Eights (ISBN 9781835740 330, Book Guild, 2024), the second in The Island of Angels series, which charts the uncanny coincidences of time and tide that culminated in the repulse of the Spanish Armada.
His work in progress is The Spirit of the Times which explores the events of the 14th Century featuring an unlikely cast of the Silk Road, Genghis Khan, the Black Plague, and a nursery rhyme that begins ‘Ring a-ring a-roses’.
Author, speaker and broadcaster, Justin gives talks to historical associations and libraries, appears on LitFest panels, and enjoys giving radio interviews. He lives with his partner in plain sight of the Mendip Hills in Somerset, England.
Author Links:
Website: https://www.justinnewland.com/
Twitter: https://x.com/JustinNewland53
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/drjustinnewland/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/jnewland
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.co.uk/stores/Justin-Newland/author/B06WRQVLT8
Book Excerpt:
Chapter 26: The Joy of Homecoming
5th August 1588
Rung as four pairs, the ringing of the eight bells signalled the end of the Middle Night Watch. It was four of the clock. Drifting in and out of sleep, Nelan dreamed that he stood astride the quarterdeck. The wind and the cleansing spray of the surf brushed his face. He heard the joyous cries of a school of dolphins. The scene changed as a dark cloud appeared on the horizon. A shadow came towards him, drifting along as if pulled by an ebbing tide.
As the grey-white cloud approached, he realised it was a ghost. A branch grew out of the top of the spectre and protruded into the ether. It shifted shape and coalesced into a man’s index finger. Then attached to it came a hand, a forearm, an elbow… a man’s arm, with the hand and index finger pointing up towards the heavenly realm.
Like a distant echo, a voice spoke to him, saying, “Ayudame por favor.”
“How do you want me to help you?” Nelan asked.
The voice sounded clearer, and said, “Es este mi barco?”
“No, this isn’t your ship. This is the Roebuck.”
“Dónde está mi casa.”
My Lord, the mariner wanted to know how to get home. Before Nelan could answer, the ghost drifted past the boat, following the prevailing currents in the astral.
Shivering with fear, Nelan awoke. The dream stuck in his gullet and he gasped for breath and dry wretched. Nothing came up, leaving him with a ghastly taste. In the dream, he’d seen the lost soul of a dead Spanish mariner, vainly seeking his way home. But where was ‘home’ in the astral realm? He staggered up the ladder to the deck to greet the first stirrings of dawn, then paced the boards until he’d shaken off the deathly vision.
Busy like a bee, Whiddon stalked the wheelhouse, first seeing to the watch, calling to the barrel man, consulting the purser, berating the bosun, talking to the navigator, and then examining the soundings with an eagle eye. The Roebuck was coving, sailing from one cove to the next, standard practice when hugging the coast.
“Is that Beachy Head?” Nelan asked, to the line of white cliffs.
“It’s the first of the Seven Sisters,” Whiddon said, “so named there are seven great cliffs, each separated by a valley.”
“Many years ago, I sailed past them and I remember they gave me goosebumps,” Nelan said. “I love their enduring vitality, the stark whiteness of the chalk. They seem to hold the nature of Albion, the White Isle.”
“They’re like old friends, stalwarts, always there, never changing. You talk about the flames having a voice. Well, these cliffs sing to me.”
“I know that feeling,” Nelan mused.
Whiddon said, “One day I will return to the island. For now, we’ve a battle to fight and a war to win.”
“The island calls to you, beckoning you to come home.”
“Long ago,” Whiddon said, “an ancient folk lived on this isle. They loved and cherished it and understood its nature. The people lived on the land, and in their loving of it, they heard the songs of the angels, and they sang them to each other, and the angels of the island heard their songs, and grew and were fulfilled. These folk named it the Island of the Mighty. That’s who and what we are; a mighty people living on a mighty isle.”
“In those days of yore,” Nelan said, “the Druids held sway and dressed in colours denoting their function. The Sacrificers were the soldiers and wore red. The Bards, the poets, the minstrels, and the mummers wore blue. While the High Priests dressed in long, flowing white robes.”
“There’s more,” Whiddon said. “Come, I want you to see something.”
They went to the Captain’s cabin, where Whiddon showed him a book.
“This is one of Dr Dee’s, and it’s entitled, General and Rare Memorials Pertaining to the Perfect Art of Navigation. The figure on the frontispiece is the Ancient Roman goddess Britannia. With spear and shield, she’s the warrior queen who rules these isles. Because when we are far away and fight for our country, what gives us the courage to persevere is the sure knowledge that Britannia keeps the home fires burning.”
As the evening drew in, Nelan sat by his hammock, and his thoughts turned to his home in Mortlake. In the soft light of a candle, he scribed a letter to his beloved.
My dearest Eleanor, my one and only.
I live for you, to see you, to be with you.
When I am by your side, you make me feel whole. The thought of you near me inspires me to do what I can to lift this country up to where it truly belongs in the world. I don’t know exactly where that is, but I sense it has a long way to go.
I’m aboard the Roebuck under Captain Jacob Whiddon, sailing to join the fleet. Tomorrow, we’ll dock at Dover to pick up supplies. Most of all, we need ale. By the Lord, mariners love the stuff so much, sometimes I wonder if they’d suffer the indignity of a Spanish invasion rather than endure a day without it.
When moored in the lee of the white cliffs, I’ll come ashore and find a willing hand to whom I can entrust this letter, and get it delivered to you. After that, we head across the channel to confront the Spanish fleet. The battle to come is more important than we can ever imagine. The world will hold its breath to see which side prevails. It will be us. Howard and Drake, the Queen and the mighty Island of Angels, must prevail.
Whatever happens in the impending battle, pray to God that I shall see you again.
I hope to stand on our threshold, open our door, look into your soft, green eyes, lift you in my arms, and hold you tight. Your love has given me a purpose to live for.
I look forward to the joy of homecoming.
Your ever faithful husband,
Nelan.
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Thank you so much for hosting Justin Newland today, with an enticing excerpt from his intriguing historical adventure, The Midnight of Eights. Take care, Cathie xo The Coffee Pot Book Club