Hello to Jennifer Macaire and the blog tour for her novel, Son of the Moon.
Alexander the Great journeys to India, where he and Ashley are welcomed with feasts and treachery.
With their son, Paul, being worshiped as the Son of the Moon, and Alexander’s looming death, Ashley considers the unthinkable: how to save them and whether she dares to cheat Fate?
Jennifer has shared an extract with us today. Enjoy.
***** beginning of extract*****
I climbed down the scaffolding and dashed across the floating bridge, grabbing for handholds as the river tossed it about. I had to run across a muddy, blood soaked battlefield. I leaped over bodies of men and horses, sliding and stumbling, my breath whistling in my tight throat. I knew I had to get to Alexander. He was so unrestrained. His joy and grief knew no bounds. This loss would devastate him.
I scrambled over the last twenty meters, calling Alexander’s name. He sat cradling his horse’s head in his lap, saying over and over, “Buci, Buci, Buci…”
He looked up as I arrived. “Ashley,” he said hoarsely. Then, “Your nose is bleeding.”
“Don’t worry about me.” I squatted down next to him. “You were wonderful,” I said. “Incredible. I watched the whole battle from the tower. Now I know why men will study this battle, sing songs about it, and write stories about it for thousands of years. It was amazing.”
“Do they really?” He smiled, but tears ran down his cheeks. “Was it so great?” His voice was raw and broken.
“More than great,” I assured him. I looked down at his hands, wrapped in Bucephalus’s mane. One of them was bleeding and swollen. “If you want, I’ll make you a bracelet with some of his hair.”
“I’d like that,” he said simply, and watched as I carefully plucked ten hairs from the horse’s long mane. “He was my horse,” he said softly.
“He was more than that!” I said. “Why, if everyone had a horse like Bucephalus, they would be the luckiest of men.”
“As was I.”
“As you still are,” I said firmly, taking his face in my hands and kissing his mouth.
We sat for a moment, Alexander’s hands twisting and twining in his horse’s mane. Then he bent over and put his cheek on the great animal’s neck. “I’ll miss you, old fellow,” he whispered. “You and I, we travelled far together.” He got to his feet and took my arm, helping me up. “Thank you for coming to me,” he said simply.
“What did you say to Porus?” I asked.
“I tried to say he’d be treated like a king. I think he understood me.”
I smiled. “I’m sure he did. Let’s go back to the tent now. You need to rest.” His legs were trembling violently, the shock of the battle was taking its toll. I flagged down a litter and made him get on it.
“I have to see my men,” he said. He was still crying.
“Let Perdiccas take over, he’ll get everyone settled. You have to learn to give over the reins. You’ll kill yourself if you go on like this.” My voice was shaking. I was afraid he would ask for Plexis.
“Get Nearchus, tell him to…” His voice broke.
“Please, just lie down.” I motioned for the men to start walking back to the camp.
“I have to go with Porus,” he protested, but I held his shoulder.
“No. Let them prepare the funerals. They have so many dead.” My face twisted. “You can’t see from here, but Craterus slaughtered nearly all Porus’s infantry.”
“What a waste,” he sighed.
My hand tightened on his arm. “War is nothing but waste,” I said tiredly. “But that never seems to stop it, does it?”
****** end of extract******
Jennifer Macaire lives with her husband, three children, & various dogs & horses. She loves cooking, eating chocolate, growing herbs and flowering plants on her balcony, and playing golf. She grew up in upstate New York, Samoa, and the Virgin Islands. She graduated from St. Peter and Paul high school in St. Thomas and moved to NYC where she modeled for five years for Elite. She met her husband at the polo club. All that is true. But she mostly likes to make up stories.
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Novel Kicks is a blog for story tellers and book lovers.
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