From a land of milk,
And a Road of Silk,
To a ring of roses,
And a dance of posies,
Comes the tale of the spirit of the times!
In fourteenth-century Central Asia, Karia is a young woman living under the yoke of Mongol occupation. But she’s different. She’s a fighter with supernatural powers. She could use them to keep the Black Plague at bay and solve the mystery of the purple skies at dawn – if only she could overcome her self-doubt.
Travelling in caravans on the Silk Road, she faces dangers seen and unseen – from sandstorms and slave traders to the desert djinn and folk who believe she’s a witch. She fears losing Abi, her little cousin, who’s fascinated by roses and the dance of the Whirling Dervishes of Bukhara.
When Karia falls in love with an English sailor fleeing the Knights Hospitaller, they sail to England with Abi to unravel the meaning of the purple skies, a dance, a posy tree, and a ring of roses.
The Spirit of the Times is part history, part fiction and part speculation: on the origin of disease; the power of innocence; the unfortunate aspects of custom and dogma; and humanity’s ability to respond to the governing influence or spirit of the times.
The Tamga
Balasagun
The morning of the 26th of July 1338
Overnight, Karia had a vivid, compelling dream in which she envisioned a strange two-pronged fork that floated over a stretch of water. From one side of the prongs, there grew another lance. Next to the fork on the left was a crescent shape. It drifted above the river towards the Burana Tower and hovered with menace over the walls of Balasagun. It emanated a thick, suffocating presence. Her breath became shallow. Gasping for breath, she woke up, and the fork and crescent sign disappeared.
Outside, the dawn was shot with a purple haze, even more vibrant than the previous days. Where had she seen that colour before? When she was a child, she’d attended a tribal audience with the visiting Mongol potentate, whose robe was that purple colour. Forearms planted firmly on the armrests, he sat there on a dais, glaring down with a tyrannical eye on all and sundry. She remembered the rustle of the fabric, which her mother had said was made of silk.
That didn’t help her village, though, which suffered under the pestilence. As more people died, they sewed up the entrances to their gers, preventing anyone from entering and the evil spirits from leaving.
Karia rushed into Balasagun, where she found Luli and Muzaffar.
“How has she been?” Karia asked, cradling the little babe.
“She’s been no trouble,” Luli said. “She feeds easily, and her strong suckling has been a boon. My baby is not a good eater and, to be honest, suckling Abi has helped my own.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Karia said.
“But we have news,” Muzaffar said. “We’re leaving at dawn tomorrow.”
“That’s so soon. You said that you’d rest here for several days.”
“Yes, I know,” Muzaffar said. “That was before the pestilence ravaged your village. We need to leave before we succumb to it.”
“What about Abi? What can I do with her?” Karia asked.
“If you like, we can take her with us,” Luli said.
“Not unless I come as well. I can’t be separated from her,” Karia said.
“What with the pestilence, half of Balasagun wants to join the caravan. I’m sorry, times are hard, and we have room for paying passengers only,” Muzaffar explained.
Indecision gripped Karia by the throat. Despite the pestilence, she didn’t want to leave her village, though she had to keep her promise to Bačaq. This moment felt like life or death, and she had to get it right. Should she insist and leave behind the life she loved? Or should she stay and fight the pestilence with her clan? But if she did, she might not find another wet nurse. She couldn’t condemn Abi to die for want of a mother’s milk.
“Please, you must take me with you.”
“You have nothing we need,” Muzaffar said. “If you were a man, it would be different. A man can work, scout, collect dung, feed the animals, find water, build fires, prepare food and cook in the kitchen.”
“I can do all that.”
“Mmm, I don’t know if you can.”
“What do you want from me then?”
“If you can’t work your passage, you can pay for it. Have you any silver or gold coins, jewels or precious stones, silk or atlas fabric?” Muzaffar said.
“No, I wish I did, though.”
“Or anything of value?”
“No, but I see the future. When my sister conceived, I knew it was going to be a girl. That’s little Abi here. The shaman said she would have a boy.”
“Well, that’s interesting. What else have you seen in the future?” Luli asked.
“I don’t know if this means anything, but last night I had a dream. I saw a strange sign. It drifted above a stretch of water, which looked like Lake Issyk Kul, and then hovered over the Burana Tower and into Balasagun. It came with a feeling of oppression and constriction. I nearly suffocated.”
“What did this sign look like?” Luli wanted to know.
“It had two parts, both in red. On the left, it had a crescent moon; on the right, a two-pronged fork with a small round handle above it. Another strand emerged from the base of the right-hand fork, making it into a ‘V’ shape.”
“Oh. That’s a tamga, a shield, or an insignia.” Muzaffar said. “The riders of the Yam, the Mongol pony express, have the one you described emblazoned on their saddles.”
“I thought I’d seen it somewhere before,” Karia murmured.
“It’s marked on royal proclamations and those associated with the Mongol crown,” Muzaffar said. “What you described is the tamga of Öz Beg, the Khan of the Golden Horde. He rules the land to the west of here.”
“Luli, your face – you’ve gone white as the snow. What have I said?” Karia asked.
“I think your dream is prescient,” Luli said, her voice trembling with fear. “The tamga arose in the south, headed along the lake before entering Balasagun. Your dream is a warning.”
“Of what?” Karia asked.
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 doctorate in mathematics from Imperial College, London, he conceived his debut novel, The Genes of Isis (Matador, 2018), an epic fantasy set under Ancient Egyptian skies. Next came The Old Dragon’s Head (Matador, 2018), set in Ming Dynasty China in the shadows of the Great Wall.
The Coronation (Matador, 2019) features the Great Enlightenment and speculates on the genesis of the most important event in the modern world – the Industrial Revolution. The Abdication (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.
At this point in his writing career, after four self-published books, Justin was offered a part-funded contract with the Book Guild.
The Mark of the Salamander (Book Guild, 2023) is the first in a two-book ‘The Island of Angels’ series. It tells the epic tale of England’s coming of age during the Elizabethan era. The second in the series, The Midnight of Eights (Book Guild, 2024), charts the uncanny coincidences of time and tide that culminated in the repulse of the Spanish Armada.
His latest novel, The Spirit of the Times (Matador, 2026), is to be published in July. It tells the story of a young Kyrgyz woman’s journey westwards along the Silk Road. With purple skies at dawn, and a supporting cast of Genghis Khan, the Black Plague, a perplexing rhyme, a ring of roses, it explores the greatest mystery of all – the spirit of the times.
Justin’s enduring passion is to explore the origins of our current time. This prompted a broad research into what we’ve inherited from history – encompassing Egypt, China, Prussia and Tudor England.
He also writes entertaining talks which he gives to the WI, U3A, Probus, Rotary and local historical associations. Please visit his website for a current list of the talks.
Alongside the talks, Justin promotes his work with regular book signings at TG Jones (ex. WH Smith) high street stores, selling over 3,500 books since 2019. He has sponsored over 40 UK and US blog tours, given frequent radio interviews and penned many guest posts.
His current book signing motto is: Enjoy, Imagine, Discover.
As a member of the Society of Authors, he has Public and Products Liability Insurance.
Born in Essex, England, three days before the end of 1953, he lives with his lady in plain sight of the Mendip Hills in Somerset, England.
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