Coffee Pot Book Tour: Tim Walker / Guardians at the Wall
Author Bio:
Tim Walker is an independent author living near Windsor in the UK. He grew up in Liverpool where he began his working life as a trainee reporter on a local newspaper. After studying for a degree in Communication studies he moved to London where he worked in the newspaper publishing industry for ten years before relocating to Zambia where, following a period of voluntary work with VSO, he set up his own marketing and publishing business. He returned to the UK in 2009.
His creative writing journey began in earnest in 2013, as a therapeutic activity whilst recovering from cancer treatment. He began writing an historical fiction series, A Light in the Dark Ages, in 2014, inspired by a visit to the part-excavated site of a former Roman town. The series connects the end of Roman Britain to elements of the Arthurian legend and is inspired by historical source material, presenting an imagined history of Britain in the fifth and early sixth centuries.
The last book in the series, Arthur, Rex Brittonum, was published in June 2020. This is a re-imagining of the story of King Arthur and follows on from 2019’s Arthur Dux Bellorum. Both titles are Coffee Pot Book Club recommended reads. The series starts with Abandoned (second edition, 2018); followed by Ambrosius: Last of the Romans (2017); and book three, Uther’s Destiny (2018). Series book covers are designed by Canadian graphic artist, Cathy Walker.
Tim has also
written three books of short stories, Thames Valley Tales (2015), Postcards
from London (2017) and Perverse (2020); a dystopian thriller, Devil Gate Dawn
(2016); and three children’s books, co-authored with his daughter, Cathy – The
Adventures of Charly Holmes (2017), Charly & the Superheroes (2018) and
Charly in Space (2020).
Social Media Links:
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Blurb:
Archaeology student Noah scrapes the soil
near Hadrian’s Wall, once a barrier that divided
Roman Britannia from wild Caledonian tribes, in the hope of uncovering an
ancient artefact around which he can build a project-defining story.
In the same place, almost 2,000 years earlier, Centurion Gaius Atticianus, hungover and unaware of the bloody conflicts that will soon challenge him, is rattled by the hoot of an owl, a bad omen.
These are the protagonists whose lives will brush together in the alternating strands of this dual timeline historical novel, one commencing his journey and trying to get noticed, the other trying to stay intact as he approaches retirement.
How will the breathless battles fought by a Roman officer influence the fortunes of a twenty-first century archaeology mud rat? Can naive Noah, distracted by the attentions of two very different women, navigate his way to a winning presentation?
Find out in Tim Walker's thrilling historical dual timeline novel, Guardians at the Wall.
Guardians at the Wall by Tim Walker
Extract
4 – Let the exploratory excavation commence!
[From
the POV of student archaeologist, Noah Jessop]
The
following Saturday, we were in the car park loading Mike Stone’s Land Rover
with shovels, hessian sacks, sample bags, trowels, sieves, a metal detector and
a ground-penetrating radar device that Richard had signed out for the weekend. I
had identified the current owner of the farmhouse, Mrs Betty Hardcastle, a
retired widow, and I’d spoken to her on the phone, introducing myself as an
archaeology student who was interested in identifying sites of old Roman
graveyards.
It
had piqued her interest when I said I had a hunch that there might be a family
graveyard plot in the corner of her house enclosure. She’d replied that she was
a member of the Corbridge History Society, and was interested in the prospect
of finding historical remains on her land. I had played it down, saying that I
would like to come over one Saturday with a couple of friends to have a look
around. She had agreed, and proposed that we come over right away, on the
forthcoming Saturday.
“What
did Professor Wilde say to you, Richard?” Dave asked, placing a cool box of
sandwiches and drinks in the back.
Richard
carefully stored the last of the equipment in and shut the rear door. “She gave
me a copy of the trust’s dig rules and told me not to disturb or remove any
artefacts we may uncover. We’re only to photograph and record them, then come
back and fetch Mike Stone.”
I
groaned at the thought of having to stop if we found anything of interest. I
held the passenger door open for Dave. Only three could squeeze into the cab,
so Russ had agreed to stay behind.
“Well,
I guess she could take the credit if we found anything,” Dave said as he wedged
himself in the centre seat by the gear stick.
The
drive time to Hardcastle Farm was only thirty minutes, and the electric gate
opened for us after I waved at a CCTV camera. We rattled across a cattle grid
onto the one-hundred-yard straight drive to the manor house, passing two dozen
shaggy-coated Highland cattle and as many sheep chewing the thick, coarse
moorland grass. Away to our left I saw the boundary fence and the buildings of
the Corbridge Museum between trees, owned by the English Heritage Trust.
“To
think that Gaius must have been so near and yet somehow thwarted from reaching
Coria,” I said as we waited for a second set of electric gates to swing open.
Our approach had been tracked on a moving CCTV camera. The main house, front
garden, barn and outhouses were all enclosed by an electric fence.
Richard
parked next to a newer, but similar, Land Rover on the gravel driveway. “Let’s
hope this is the right place.”
We
got out to the barks of two large smooth-coated hounds with floppy ears, and
the approach of our host, a stout, grey-haired woman in cream Aran jumper and
corduroy trousers tucked into green gumboots. It was practically a uniform around
here, and we were similarly attired.
“Good
morning and welcome to Hardcastle Farm,” she said.
“Hi,
Mrs Hardcastle.” I held out my hand. “I’m Noah. Thanks for inviting us to have
a look around.”
“Not
at all, and please call me Betty.” She gave me a firm hand shake. I could see
from her ruddy cheeks and frame that she was an outdoors person, no doubt a
keen hiker and dog walker on the Northumberland hills that rose from the river
valley in which her property sat. “I’m so pleased you called. I’ll take you to
the overgrown corner which I think would be a good place to start. There’s a
pile of stones that may have been used as grave markers. I’ve put a couple of
rakes over there. If you wouldn’t mind clearing away the leaf mulch and twigs
for me and tidying up, I’d be grateful.”
She
led the way across an expanse of mown lawn towards the corner of the enclosed
area, past a stone border and hedgerow that marked the edge of the garden, and
onto a rough track that led into an area of low-hanging trees and bushes. There
was a disused wooden shed with a partially collapsed roof, then a secluded area
with lumps of coarse grass where no trees grew, only a few bushes.
“This
looks promising,” I said.
“Yes,
I’ve often wondered if this was an old graveyard. The nettles and brambles run
riot, so it’s a magnet for butterflies. You can rip up the bushes and slash
back the grass, but leave the trees that border this area, please,” Betty
replied. The area covered roughly forty square yards.
*****
[In
the Roman fortified town of Coria in the year 180 CE, Centurion Atticianus
gives his report to Tribune Bebius]
Gaius
silently rehearsed the report he knew he would soon be giving, then composed
himself as the voices of officers entering the commander’s office filtered
through the thin door.
“Ah,
Centurion Atticianus, come forward and meet your fellow officers,” Tribune
Flavius Lucius Bebius said in a welcoming tone, his composure fully recovered.
“Yes,
sir!” Gaius replied, standing to attention. “I am Gaius Vitellius Atticianus,
Centurion of Horses of the Fourth Century, Fourth Cohort, Sixth Legion, Victrix
Pia Fidelis. I was sent here by Tribune Helvius Pertinax from Vindolanda which
is under attack from a large force of barbarians these past two days.”
He
paused as the officers gasped. With late arrivals, there were now two prefects
and twelve centurions in the room, including Lupus, whom Gaius had recently
escorted from Habitancum Fort to the Wall. He nodded to the Senior Centurion
whom he knew, Julius Flavius or ‘First Spear’, who was above all centurions.
“It
is necessary that you speak slowly, so that my clerk can record the detail of
your report,” Tribune Bebius said. Gaius glanced over his shoulder at the clerk
sitting at a small table in the corner of the room, stylus hovering over a wax
tablet.
“Certainly,
sir. But before I continue, may I ask, what action was taken upon hearing the
report by Centurion Lupus Viridio of the fourth cohort? He had witnessed the
gathering of the Caledonii tribes at the dun of the Selgovae king.”
A
look of anger flashed across the tribune’s face. After glaring at Gaius for his
impudence, he looked at the huge man in polished, gilded armour standing before
him. “Well, First Spear, did you receive a report from this centurion of a
gathering of the tribes?”
“I…
did, Your Excellency, but you were otherwise detained at the time, and so I
thought it could wait until our weekly briefing, scheduled for tomorrow, sir.”
“Fool!
Do you not recognise an important piece of intelligence when you hear it?” The
tribune’s cheeks turned puce again, this time with rage. “You could learn much
from Centurion Atticianus here, who practically battered down my door to give
me his report of hostiles approaching…” He checked himself, and his storm blew
over as quickly as it had started, and he continued in a calm manner. “Right,
put the entire garrison on full alert and send out your cavalry on patrols. Is
there anything else we should know, Centurion Atticianus?”
Gaius
cleared his throat and replied, “We were forced off the road at the estate of
Magistrate Lucius Gabia…”
Tribune
Bebius chuckled, cutting him short. “Ah, Fortuna guided you there. He is a
friend of mine and I know his estate is built like a fortress. He convinced
himself that one day barbarians would attack… and now they have. He is away in
Eboracum at the courts. The walls are high and he even had corner towers
built.”
“Yes,
Fortuna be praised, sir. We made use of the walls and towers. And with the help
of his estate workers, managed to keep the savages at bay long enough to bury
our payroll chest and standard, before making a staggered retreat via the river
path.”
“You
did well, Centurion. My compliments to you for your wise actions in what must
have been a grim situation. Remain behind and give the location details to my
clerk. They must be recovered after we see off the barbarians.”
Gaius
spun on his heels and marched out, followed by the scurrying clerk clutching
half a dozen tablets to his chest. Gaius could see soldiers and civilians
rushing about through the windows, and knew that meant the warband had been
spotted.
The
clerk sat and looked up, expectantly.
“We
buried a chest of coins and the fourth cohort standard at the estate of
Magistratus Lucius Gabia, in a grave marked with a stone in the name, Domina
Drusilla Gabia,” he enunciated in a slow, deliberate manner, watching the
bird’s nest on top of the clerk’s head wobble as he made deep and deliberate
indents in the soft wax. “Those are the salient facts. And now, I take my
leave.”
Buy Links:
Wow. Just as good as I remembered! Readers, I know you're going to want to check out Tim's book, so I've included links to Amazon below. This book is available on Kindle Unlimited for FREE.
Pub crawl in rome I would like to say that this blog really convinced me to do it! Thanks, very good post.
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