Lionheart

By Martha Rofheart

Richard of britain was once often called ‘Lionheart’.

He used to be a King unbeaten in battle.

His sword carved out a godlike legend from the battlefields of France to the blood-soaked sands of the Holy Land.

He was once England’s so much romantic and heroic king, a passionate and delicate guy, nice warrior, poet and musician, and a charismatic chief, blindly loved via the knights he commanded, deeply enjoyed through a couple of woman.

But one lady captured his heart.

She was once a girl unchallenged within the lists of love.

Blondelza, as daringly self reliant as she was once appealing. She lived through her wits and skill at the degree, and refused to yield to any guy who was once no longer her equal.

In a royal court docket brimming with political intrigue, smooth alliances, and fierce jealousies, those got here jointly although all their international conspired to maintain them aside — proud and unfastened spirits held in thrall via a keenness that threatened to eat them either…

In this masterly novel set throughout the time of the bloody Crusades and the elaborate Courts of affection, the fiery Plantagenet rulers come to existence: Richard’s father, the boorish womanizer, King Henry II; his mom, a mythical good looks and a special lady of the medieval international, Eleanor of Aquitaine; his brothers the princes, vying for land and loyalty and gear.

And on the very centre is Richard himself and the girl he enjoyed certainly others, the gifted and free-spirited Blondelza, mom of his illegitimate son, who mocked the legislation of God and man.

“STIRRING AND DRAMATIC!”- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY 

“VIBRANT and vibrant” – LIBRARY JOURNAL

Martha Rofheart (1917–1990) was once an American author of old novels, an actress and early in her occupation, a version. She can also be the writer of ‘Fortune Made His Sword’ and ‘Glendower Country’.

Endeavour Press is the UK's prime autonomous electronic writer. for additional information on our titles please check in to our publication at www.endeavourpress.com. every one week you'll obtain updates on unfastened and discounted ebooks. persist with us on Twitter: @EndeavourPress and on fb through http://on.fb.me/1HweQV7. we're regularly attracted to listening to from our readers. Endeavour Press believes that the long run is now.

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She wiggled her palms, tipped in blue and pink paint I kissed the again of her hand, rigorously, no longer touching’ the paint. i used to be used to it; from adolescence I had watched this ritual, loving it. I enjoyed to determine her good points, blocked out via the ivory-coloured wash she sponged on first, emerge slowly into ruby lips and lengthy, black-rimmed eyes, like an image painted on an empty web page. She used to be a grasp at it. She designed the entire styles for her tapestries and her embroidered stoles and cushions, tracing the strains out frivolously at the textile for her girls to stick to with their silks.

That churl! ” His little purple jowls quivered with sincere indignation. “So this is often how he repays my hospitality! How can he dare? Descended from witches they're, or the satan — the full brood of them! I’ll no longer have it! That he should still dare! ” And he threw the parchment with the ducal seal putting from it on a scarlet ribbon — threw it onto the ground and trampled it. “But, Father,” I acknowledged, placing my hand on his arm, “I wish him. ” “You — you what? ” he sputtered. “You are a bit ignorant idiot, a foolish woman!

A spear fell brief sooner than him within the water; his horse reared part out, foundering and worried witless. “Take Blanchfleur! ” I cried. “She is faster! ” It appeared he couldn't listen me over the raging water and the tumult at the shore, yet he should have, for he dropped down into the water, turning his personal horse free and swimming to my Blanchfleur. I observed them secure to the shore and galloping loose on dry flooring, sooner than I grew to become approximately; I knew from then that we have been misplaced, our final guy combating desperately within the shallows, 4 swords to his one, and blood already pouring from his neck, staining his mail blouse like rust.

Its roof should have been made from tin, for the rain clattered with a skinny sharp noise upon it, sounding as though the heavens had opened. I remembered that, as a toddler, I had proposal it usually rained on stable Friday, in mourning for Our Lord; i guess it had occurred a couple of times. not like the anchorite sooner than me, I had bought no bread and water throughout the little door; I have been given not anything for those days, and visible no face. if you happen to eventually get them all the way down to it, they're going to punish you adequately; the Church understands how, you will be certain.

Requested Richard, smiling. “Am I to be incorporated? ” “Sir,” I acknowledged, bowing, my hand on my center, like a courtier, “I am yours to command…you are my King! ” My phrases sounded very arch to my ears; I had now not spoken in jest for 16 years! “Yes, do come, Richard, of course,” I acknowledged. “And convey — ” i used to be without warning aware of the courtiers soaring close to, and dropped my voice. “Bring whom you will,” i stopped, my eyes signalling to Richard. bankruptcy four “But they're Saracen knights! ” The boy seemed up with such surprise in his face, and such sadness, too, that I approximately smiled.

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