Here is chapter two of the fiction book I’ve been working on. As I said in the previous post, any thoughts or feedback would be very welcomed.
If Count Robert de Brant had any passion greater than the hunt for animals, it was the hunt for royal favor and a higher rank than he now possessed. His current goal was to gain the earldom of the Northern March, which would provide not only a higher title, but richer lands and a wider stage for his ambitions.
The young king was due to pass through his lands on an inspection in less than a month, and if de Brant played his cards right he was certain he could convince the king that he was the right man to take over the long-empty March. This rare unicorn could be the perfect opportunity to impress his sovereign.
The clatter of hooves and the rattle of weapons announced the return of the rearguard. De Brant adjusted his sable cloak and stepped out from the doorway, along with the castle steward. He was eager to gloat over his prize…which seemed to be mysteriously missing…
“Where is my unicorn?”
De Brant expected an immediate answer, or someone was going to get hurt. The spear men pulled back a bit, leaving more than ample room for a scout with a bandage-swathed head to take what was coming to him.
In answer to the 15 day writer’s challenge I’ve been participating in, I’m posting a very rough draft of chapter one of a fiction book I’ve been working on. I would love to hear any comments or feedback my readers have. Chapter Two will be posted shortly Thanks for reading!
“He hadn’t always lived like this. Once life had been good. Once he had a beautiful wife, a small homestead, the respect every man should have, and a chance at a family. All of that had been swept away in one brief, bitter moment, with the thunder of hooves and the flash of a spear cutting all light and joy out of Stephen’s life forever.
He could still see Eleanor in his mind’s eye, smiling as she went out that day to gather blackberries. It was only a short walk from his homestead to the forest, and she laughed at his concern for her safety. She was always laughing though. It was one of the things that drew him to her in the first place. Her easy, good natured humor. She had a quick wit, but never used it to belittle others. She never laughed at his limp or small stature.
Stephen heard again in memory his wife’s scream as Count de Brant’s spear went through her, while the boar that it had been its intended target charged off into the underbrush. Stephen had begged for a farthing to pay the local healer, but the count barely paused long enough to ask, “If you cared for her so much, why did you let her wander off into my hunting run?” Stephen wept helplessly as she bled out in his arms.