An Emperor's request. A lover's refusal. And a young woman who must choose between them.
The great empire from the east left Lena's country to its own defences many generations past. Now invasion threatens...and to save their land, women must learn to fight. In a world reminiscent of Britain after the fall of Rome, a different social structure has developed. Men fight; women farm and fish. Lena's choice to answer her leader's call to arms separates her from her lover Maya, beginning her journey of exploration: a journey of body, mind and heart.
Winner of multiple awards, both individually and as part of the first Empire's Legacy trilogy, Empire's Daughter is neither magical fantasy nor historical fiction, but a unique world both familiar and unfamiliar - an empire on the edge of history.
Shortly after midnight, I crouched in the loft of the forge. I had done my rounds, checking on each member of my cohort, over the previous hour. A light seafog shrouded the village, and no breeze moved the air. I sat back on my haunches, listening. An owl called; mice rustled in the roof. Stars wheeled through the sky. I shifted quietly to keep my muscles from cramping. I smelled the sharp musky scent of a fox about its night’s hunt. I heard the rhythm of the waves on the shore. Then, above the gentle susurration of the waves, I heard the sweep of oars.
My heart beat faster, and my breathing quickened. I forced myself to relax my grip on my knife. Tired muscles grew clumsy. I waited. I heard them disembark, the noise muffled by the fog. I heard footsteps, and then a thrush called, sleepily, twice. From the barnyard, a cock crowed.
I crouched, staring into darkness as minutes passed. Then I heard them climbing the hill toward the open space above the council hall. We had guessed right. I listened until no more boots sounded on the path. I barked twice, and twice again.
The horses exploded from their hiding place, hooves hitting sharply upon the rocks, riders screaming defiance. The sheepdogs gave tongue from the barns. I heard the scrape of metal on leather as swords came out of scabbards. Voices spoke in surprise. The horses and their shouting riders grew closer. Steel clashed on steel as men and women screamed. Arrows cut the air, whistling. I strained to see through the small window and the dark.
Two shapes broke off, heading towards the barns and the fields. I saw them fall, as Casse calmly rose from behind her sheltering rock to throw a knife, once, twice. Beneath me, in the village, the battle raged in full force. I heard the chop of sword on leather, the whir of bowstrings, screams of pain and challenge. My heart pounded in my ears. A man turned from the melee, running toward the forge. I dropped out of the loft, landing silently, and slipped through the door. He wore no helmet. I grabbed his hair, and his cry of surprise turned to a gurgle as I slit his throat. His hot blood spilled over my hands. I felt my gorge rise. No different than the hunt, I told myself. Don’t think about it. I bent, wiped my hands on the grass. I took his knife from his boot.
More followed. I could see at least three pounding up the path. I ran behind the forge and into the longer grasses, working my way toward the barns. I forced myself to stay quiet, to move slowly. I reached Casse. She had taken the knives from the men she had killed and was hefting them in her hands, judging their usefulness for throwing. She looked at me sharply.
“I’m not hurt,” I assured her. “I’m going to the barn. Stay here. There are three at the forge, at least.”
“None got past me,” she said. “Not that I saw.” A shout of rage rose from the battle below us. The water of the harbour reflected the flicker and glow of fire: the catboat, burning.
I moved through the field until I reached the barns. I whistled softly, the meadow pipit’s call. Tice answered and stepped out from behind a partition.
“They sent two men to burn the barn,” she said. “They’re both dead, though one killed a sheepdog first.”
“Good,” I said. “There are three, or more, at the forge. I killed one. Casse remains on guard. Stay here, Tice, and watch this end of the village. I’m going down to assess where we are needed.” She nodded, and I moved through the barn and out the far end, into the heather.
I reached the stream and its cover of willows easily. I climbed up, to edge through the branches, keeping parallel to the stream and the footpath. Once I thought I saw movement in the field beyond. I paused to watch, but saw nothing more. A fox, perhaps, or a badger. From the village and the harbour, the sound of battle continued, but women’s voices were raised in command more often than men’s. The morning grew lighter.
I crossed on the branch, sliding to the ground on the other side of the stream, taking the now-familiar route through byre and tunnel toward the harbour. Freya was gone from her hiding spot in Rette’s kitchen, but a dead man lay in the doorway. Fifty feet from Siane’s workshop and the net sheds, where the archers had lain in wait, I stopped.
The flames of the burning catboat and the rising sun gave enough light to see well. The fog had lifted with the dawn. A group of six men fought with swords and shields at the base of the dock, surrounded on three sides by the sword cohort. As I watched, one man broke, running along the jetty. I heard the twang of the bowstring, and he fell with an arrow in his back. Further up the hill, a horsewoman swung a sword, and another man dropped.
As the day brightened, I saw the tallest of the fighting men look desperately around. The catboat smouldered, listing on its side in the shallow water at the edge of the jetty. Above, in the village, a few men still fought, but the main path was littered with bodies. He stepped back and dropped his sword. “I surrender,” he said, hoarsely, in the accents of Leste.
The men with him did likewise. Tali stepped forward to pick up the swords, passing them back to other cohort members. “Shields,” she said. They too, dropped. She bent, taking the knives from the men's boots. “Take off your belts.”
They tied the men’s hands with their own belts. “Now,” Tali said to the leader, her voice calm and deadly. “Call your men to you. Tell them it is over.” He stood impassively. She put the point of her sword at his neck. “Tell them.” The sun broke over the ridge.
He raised his head and called out, one word, three times.
“How many on the boat? How many men, in total?” Tali demanded.
“Three and forty,” he said.
Taught to read at the age of three, words have been central to Marian’s life for as long as she can remember. A novelist, poet, and essayist, Marian has several degrees, none of which are related to writing. After two careers as a research scientist and an educator, she retired from salaried work and returned to writing things that weren’t research papers or reports.
Her first published work was poetry, in small journals; her first novel was released in 2015. Empire’s Daughter is the first in the Empire’s Legacy series: second-world historical fiction, devoid of magic or other-worldly creatures and based to some extent on northern Europe after the decline of Rome. In addition to her novels, Marian has read poetry, short stories, and non-fiction work at writers’ festivals and other juried venues.
Marian’s other two passions in life are birding and landscape history, both of which are reflected in her books. Birding has taken her and her husband to all seven continents. Prior to the pandemic, she and her husband spent several months each year in the UK, for both research and birding, and she is desperately hoping to return.
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