Ekaterinburg, Russia, July 1918. Tsar Nicholas II, together with his family and loyal retainers, is brutally murdered by the Bolsheviks. The Romanov jewellery is recovered by Lenin’s Red Army but the priceless Russian Orthodox icon, Empress Alexandra’s last great comfort, is lost. Almost one hundred years later Harry Caldwell is commissioned to discover the icon’s whereabouts, only to find him and his two friends Sam and Geordie catapulted into a world of art forgery and death.
1855. After his exploits fighting alongside the Iroquois and Passamaquoddy Peoples, Malcolm McRitchie has settle in the mountainous beauty of New York State with his wife, Talulah. However, fate changes the course of his life, after which he takes the opportunity to return to Scotland to seek revenge for the murder of his mother and to rekindle a lost love. He soon realises that the act of retribution can have deadly consequences.
Pressurised to leave Scotland by an uncaring landlord, Malcolm McRitchie leaves the girl he loves in order to sail for Nova Scotia. It is the start of a journey that carries him from the despair of the Highland Clearances to the beginnings of the Indian Wars; an adventure which takes him to the heart of the Iroquois and Passamaquoddy people and ultimately leads to Mc Ritchie’s fight for their survival. It represents a powerful telling of love, death and revenge.
A numbered special limited edition of 1000, each volume is signed by the author and all profits from this publication go to Dementia Forward www.dementiaforward.org.uk
The Knotted Handkerchief and other short stories” comprises two main stories, “The Knotted Handkerchief” and “The Last Dance” augmented with six other short stories.
Vision, interesting passages…
Love doesn’t conquer all; it can weigh you down like a millstone around your neck. It can hold you in misery until it breaks your will to survive, leaving you empty of everything you’ve held precious.
Revenge! -that act can slowly eat away and destroy the innocent and make the guilty gloat.
Life has a habit of turning, going around in a giant circle and smacking you on the back of your head at a time in life when you don’t need a headache.
There are those who weave in and out of our lives without us knowing their intentions. They are able to fleece you by stealth, leave you vulnerable and without dignity, yet they smile and still call you friend!
You can rise and fall with the waves; you can taste the salt on your lips and run your hand through the green crystal water, swim and wallow in all its glory. The sea will make you think that you understand its workings; then it gets into your body, tortures the mind and eats way at your soul. You find that you can’t live without the smell of the ocean, you cannot die without its bidding.
The maelstrom of life churns up the good and the bad, so when order is restored you’re left with a hybrid that is of little use to anyone, yet it still manages to suck the nourishment from all it can latch onto!
We all die alone, our final cry, like our spirits, evaporating into the air, into nothingness. We die weeping for a future that no longer belongs to us, our dreams and aspirations spent, smothered by a world which is indifferent to our existence.
A peaceful scene can be marked with that precious commodity, silence. When silence is accompanied by stillness then you have a crossing of that dividing line that separates a contented mind from that of a troubled awareness, the difference between contentment and unease which will undoubtedly turn to fear if the source of that calm is not fathomed.
A heart wrapped around with impetuousness is volatile, not only a danger to its owner but to others who share the same cause.