Welcome to the
Book’s Delight and a stop on the Coffee Pot Book Tour for GJ Williams and her
new book, The Conjuror’s Apprentice. We have an enticing excerpt to share with
you, so grab a cup of something warm and curl up in a cozy chair and let’s get reading.
The Details
Book
Title: The Conjuror’s Apprentice
Series:
The Tudor Rose (Book 1)
Author:
G.J. Williams
Publication Date: October 6th 2022
Publisher:
RedDoor Press
Page
Length: 320 Pages
Genre: Historical Fiction
Blurb
Born
with the ability to hear thoughts and feelings when there is no sound,
Margaretta Morgan’s strange gift sees her apprenticed to Doctor John Dee,
mathematician, astronomer, and alchemist. Using her secret link with the hidden
side and her master’s brilliance, Margaretta faces her first murder mystery.
Margaretta and Dee must uncover the evil bound to unravel the court of Bloody
Mary.
The
year is 1555. This is a time ruled by fear. What secrets await to be pulled
from the water?
The
Conjuror’s Apprentice takes real people and true events in 1555, into which G J
Williams weaves a tale of murder and intrigue. Appealing to readers of crime
and well researched historical fiction alike, this is the first in a series
which will follow the life, times, plots and murders of the Tudor Court.
Trigger
Warnings:
Descriptions
of bodies and the injuries that brought about their death.
Threat
of torture; description of man who has been tortured.
Buy Links:
Amazon
UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Conjurors-Apprentice-G-J-Williams/dp/1915194199
Waterstones
https://www.waterstones.com/book/the-conjurors-apprentice/g-j-williams/9781915194190
RedDoor
https://www.reddoorpress.co.uk/products/the-conjurors-apprentice?_pos=1&_sid=30c68d694&_ss=r
Author
Bio
After
a career as a business psychologist for city firms, G.J. Williams has returned
to her first passion – writing tales of murder, mystery and intrigue. Her
psychology background melded with a love of medieval history, draws her to the
twists and turns of the human mind, subconscious powers and the dark-side of
people who want too much.
She
lives between Somerset and London in the UK and is regularly found writing on a
train next to a grumpy cat and a bucket of tea.
Social Media Links:
Twitter:
https://mobile.twitter.com/gjwilliams92
Excerpt
As Margaretta retreated through the stables, she
passed a stall with the name Jonas carved into the cross beam. Inside was a
truckle bed, neatly covered with a blanket and, on the floor, a leather bag.
She banged the stable door closed without stepping out. It was only five quiet
steps back to Jonas’s bed space, where she huddled down in the black of the
shadows.
The voice of Father Thomas started in a rhythm of
prayer and blessing. Then Luke, his voice strained and urgent, like all men who
are trying to stop their emotions spilling out of their mouths.
‘I cannot just sit here and do nothing, Father.
Jonas was like a son to me… and…’
The priest’s response was low and firm. ‘Luke. We
have spoken of this before. Lord Cecil will not let this rest until the killer
has been found.’
‘Killers. Jonas was a strong lad. It would take more
than one to hold him down and do those things to him.’ Luke’s voice was tinged
with anxiety now, like a child whose pleading is being dismissed. ‘Have you
told Lord Cecil what I told you? Did you tell him that Jonas spoke of someone
called the Shepherd? Did you tell him that Jonas said he was in a flock?’
Then banging followed by a whimper. It was Luke
beating his fists on the timbers of the stable. The priest was telling him to
calm himself, that there was nothing he could do. Luke almost shouted: ‘Jonas
was afeared the night before he disappeared. In church that morning he was
praying like he had never done before. Flock be damned. He was a lamb to the slaughter.’
‘Did he say who he feared?’
‘No. But he had a bruise on his cheek a few days
before. When I asked him who did it he claimed a few street boys battered
him…that a woman called…called…something I cannot recall…had helped. That she
was good no matter what others said.’
The priest snapped. ‘What woman? You did not tell me
of this before.’
Luke’s intake of breath was audible. ‘Tell truth,
father. My mind has been full of witnessing the lad’s body. Memories are
sneaking back.’
‘You must tell me everything, Luke. How can I pass
the information to Lord Cecil if you do not? Now, what was the woman’s name?’
‘I cannot recall.’
‘You must.’ The voice was hard now, like a teacher
with an errant child. ‘I will return in half of an hour for the name.’
There was a rustle as the priest turned, his long
black coat sweeping hay along the floor. His tread was heavy, determined as he
made towards the stable door. Then he stopped. From the shadow on the floor it
was obvious he was looking into Jonas’s sleeping area. Margaretta held her
breath. The cleric muttered something low under his breath as he peered into
the gloom. It was not English. He stepped forward. Then a shout from outside.
‘Father. Are you here?’
With a grunt, he turned for the door and walked
away. The only sound was the chomping of the horse in the stable opposite and
the moaning from Luke. She was listening to a
heart break.
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