You’re in for a special treat today. Sarah Hegger, author of he upcoming release, The Bride Gift, is visiting, and she’s brought along the book’s hero for an interview.
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Today I’m interviewing Guy of Helston. I have to tell you; he’s rather fierce looking with that scowl on his face. And he’s not alone. There’s a priest beside him. He seems a much more amiable chap.
Collette: Good morning, Guy. Welcome to the Blue Rose Writing Room.
Guy: Nods, but doesn’t smile as he looks around. He frowns at the teacups hanging on the hooks.
Priest: Good morning. We are delighted to be here.
Collette: So, Guy, we know that knights of old fought a great deal, but what do you do day-to- day?
Guy: Practise fighting.
Silence. Guy fiddles with the edge of his sword.
Priest: He’s not much of a talker. I’m Crispin, by-the-by, Guy’s twin.
Collette: It’s a pleasure to meet you, Crispin. Surely you do something else other than practicing, Guy?
Guy: Nay.
Collette: I see Crispin wasn’t exaggerating; You are a man of few words.
Crispin: If they are landed knights, they will also take care of their demesne, a sort of administrative and judicial function. Also, the men at arms require quite a bit of training and they are a rough lot, for the most part.
Guy grunts. I guess these means he agrees. He’s still fiddling with his sword. . . makes me nervous, I can tell you.
Collette: I understand you came to King Stephen’s notice through your skill in battle. Can you tell us why they call you the Scourge of Farringdon?
Crispin (hastily): He does not like that name. I would not use it.
Guy looks thunderous. I glance this sword again. It’s a very big sword.
Collette: I’m terribly sorry, I meant no offense; I had no idea you didn’t like the title.
Guy looks a little less thunderous.
Collette: Perhaps we can talk about how you established your army?
Silence.
I wait. Well, this isn’t going very well at all.
Guy grunts. I look to Crispin. He gives me a nod of encouragement. Guy’s a rather reticent interviewee I’m discovering.
Collette: Er…So how did you establish your army?
Guy: In battle.
Of course, how dense of me not to have guessed that.
Crispin: In our time there are many landless men who become mercenaries. King Stephen is at war with Empress Maude, you know. There is always a need for a competent warrior. As Guy started to gain a name as an accomplished warrior, other men flocked to his banner. The name we do not speak of, was given to him by others. Guy does not delight in the taking of life.
Collette: I am relieved to hear that.
Guy smiles.
Collette: Perhaps you can tell us a little something about when you grew up?
Guy looks at Crispin.
Crispin: We were the youngest of six boys. Our older brother was trained to take over our father’s demesnes. Our mother died giving birth to us, and our father had the raising of us.
Guy demonstrated an aptitude for the sword at an early age. Our father was determined to make a decent warrior out of him. He was not always gentle in his teachings. (Guy grunts)
Father was a typical man of our time, hardened and ready with his fists. Guy has always been the larger twin and many times he shielded me from our father. As he grew to manhood, Guy always protected those weaker. You would not know it to look at him, but underneath all that armour is pure pottage.
Guy throws his brother a hard look but says nothing.
Collette casts Guy a cautious glance.
Collette: Crispin, Guy seems a bit reluctant to share. Can you tell us What his dreams for the future are?
Crispin: As a younger son, there was never any chance of inheritance. Guy desires nothing so much as to win his own land and title one day. He is also not much of a marriage bargain, thus he relies on his sword and his army to win him what he wants.
Collette: And your dreams?
Crispin: My lady, I am a priest. It is all I have ever wanted. We are not so very different, my brother and I. We seek to protect and shelter those weaker than us – my brother with his strength and I, with my faith.
Collette: And what about love? Do you see a woman in your future, Guy?
Guy looks pained. Crispin laughs.
Crispin: He is a comely brute, this much is clear. Mayhap you have noted he is not much of a honey-tongued knave. Verily (Crispin leans towards me), the ladies make him a bit nervous.
Guy growls and gets to his feet.
Goodness, he’s truly cut from rough cloth. But those shoulders…
Guy: Enough!
Collette: Oh, well, thank you for coming.
Crispin: It was a pleasure. Mayhap we can drop in again some time. I will be sure to accompany him.
He winks and follows his brother out.
If you are keen to hear more about the upcoming release of The Bride Gift and Sarah’s newest medieval, Sweet Bea, she loves to hear from readers and you can find her any of the following places:
About The Bride Gift
It’s 1153 in the period dubbed ‘The Anarchy’, King Stephen and Empress Maud are not the only ones embroiled in a fierce battle of the sexes.
Determined to control her own destiny, wilful Helena of Lystanwold has chosen just the husband to suit her purposes. But, when her banished guardian uncle attempts to secure her future and climbs through her bedroom window with a new husband by a proxy marriage, she understandably balks. Notorious warrior Guy of Helston is everything Helena swore she would never marry; a man who lives by the sword, like the man who murdered her sister.
This marriage finally brings Guy close to his lifetime dream of gaining lands and a title. He is not about to let his feisty bride stand in his way. A master strategist, Guy sets out to woo and conquer his lady.
Against a backdrop of vengeance, war and betrayal, Guy and Helena must learn to forge a united front or risk losing everything.
Enjoy an excerpt from The Bride Gift
Spring, 1153, North of England
His eyes grew accustomed to the dark. From just the other side of the door, Guy could hear the sounds of the keep. Mere inches away, people slept, others talked softly to each other and went about their business of getting ready for the new day.
He scanned the interior. Darker shadows coalesced into the larger shapes of furniture. They were in luck; no servant shared the chamber. Roger approached the huge bed, which dominated the room from a raised dais. The draperies were opened, and Guy could just make out the recumbent form on the bed. Roger crept closer to the sleeping figure. Guy chose to stay near the foot, partially concealed by the bed draperies.
Guy let his eyes roam over her. Hair streamed across the pillows in the predawn light. Roger had not exaggerated; it was a fair face. The clear line of her brows rose in a determined arch above the delicate bones of her face. Her mouth was ripe and full and tilted up slightly at the corners. It was a mouth made for kissing. In other circumstances, Guy might have paused a moment and availed himself of the opportunity.
She stirred in her sleep, as if sensing their presence, and flung one arm out of the bedclothes. Leaning forward, Roger placed a hand over her mouth. She woke with a start, her eyes flying open and her nostrils flaring over the edge of Roger’s hand. Then her fight reflex took over.
Guy saw legs flail beneath the bed linens as her hand shot forward. Roger grunted softly when the blow connected with his shoulder. Her other arm arced toward his head, but Roger was quick enough to catch it. Her chest rose as she sucked in an enormous breath. Guy tensed, his hand reaching for the sword strapped to his back.
Roger raised his knee onto the bed beside her and leaned forward. “Nell. Do not scream.” His whisper was hoarse in the stillness of the room. “Quiet, Nell.”
Her eyes widened in surprise as they searched and found her uncle. Then she stilled.
“Aye, it is your uncle.” Roger carefully removed his hand.
“Roger?” Her stare was fixed on the man by her side. “Where, in God’s name, have you been?”
“Hush, Nell,” Roger hissed.
She scrambled into a sitting position, clutching the bedding to her chest. In the moonlight, she appeared too fragile for what awaited her. Guy watched her from the secrecy of the shadows.
“What are you doing here?” She frowned slightly as if trying to understand. “‘Tis the middle of the night. Why are you sneaking about in the dark? How did you get past the men at the door?”
They were all fair questions; Guy remained still and let Roger make the explanations. “We climbed,” Roger stated proudly. “We scaled the wall and came in through the casement.”
Her eyes went wide as they flitted first to the casement and back to her uncle. “Why?”
“I did not want to alert anyone that we were here,” Roger cautioned her.
“But why?” she repeated. Her forehead creased in a deeper frown. “They are all anxiously awaiting your return. We have all worried ourselves to illness.” Guy could hear the anger creeping into her voice. “We received the news from court four days ere that you have refused the king’s call to arms. And now I find you climbing the keep walls. Are you mad?”
“Nay, Nell, not mad but banished.”
“King Stephen has banished you?” Her voice rose sharply. Roger hastily motioned her to lower her voice, lest an alarm be raised.
“Aye.” Roger backed away slightly from the bed looking worn and older than his years. Guy knew this banishment was like an open wound for the other man. “I—”
“You have been banished?” Her whisper grew more demanding. “How did you let that happen?”
Guy raised a brow. He honestly did not believe Roger had been presented with any other choice. It was not his place to say, however, so he kept silent.
“Now, Nell.” Roger attempted to take command of the situation.
“You knew the king was wroth with you. Why did you refuse his call to arms now?” She was gathering vigour with each word.
“It must end. You know that as well as I.” Roger’s whisper grew rough with impatience. “‘Tis the same year after year, Nell. The king wants yet more men and yet more arms for this infernal war with Maud, and we bear the cost.”
She glared up at Roger, the line of her chin firm and uncompromising. “Could you not dissemble?”
Guy’s eyebrows rose yet higher. Roger was not going to escape that lightly.
“Could you not feint?” she continued, making a decisive slashing motion with her free hand. “Now you are banished,” she declared wrathfully. “And they have stripped your title and your lands. How could anything be worth that?”
“There is only so much a man can take.” Obviously Roger was done with his cajolery, and Guy recognized the bellicose jut of the older man’s chin. His niece had one just like it.
They stayed locked in their silent battle for a long moment. Her shoulders slumped suddenly, as if the weight became too much to bear. All the fight seemed to rush out of her in a sigh. “I have been so worried about you. I thought you might be dead.” Her voice quavered on that last sentence, and Guy felt his guts tighten. Sweet Jesu. Please, no tears. He could not abide the tears.
“There now, sweet Nell.” Roger lowered himself onto the bed beside her. With a soft sound, he gathered the girl into his arms. “Whist now, Nell. All is not lost and I came as fast as I could. Hush now, sweeting.”
Guy shifted his weight, uncomfortable at witnessing such a private scene. He knew the exact moment she caught sight of him standing in the shadows at the foot of the bed. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in surprise.
Peering over her uncle’s shoulder, she frowned at him. “Who are you?”
Guy would as lief be strung up by his toes than answer her question. This was Roger’s idea, not his.
“Er, Nell.” Roger drew her back from him gently. “May I present Guy of Helston?”
She blinked at him and drew a sharp breath. “The ‘Scourge of Faringdon?’” Her eyes grew huge in her face.
Guy gritted his teeth. The name was like a curse.
“Nell,” Roger admonished, then glanced at him apologetically. “He does not like to be called such.”
“Then he should not have earned it,” snapped the lady, recovering from her moment of fear. “What is he doing in my bedchamber?”
Roger took a deep breath before admitting softly, “He is your . . . husband.”
About Sarah
.jpg "SARAH HEGGER, AUTHOR OF THE BRIDE GIFT & INTERVIEW WITH GUY OF HELSTON, THE HERO 1")
Mimicking her globe trotting adventures, Sarah’s career path began as a gainfully employed actress, drifted into public relations, settled a moment in advertising, and eventually took root in the fertile soil of her first love, writing. She also moonlights as a wife and mother.
She currently lives in Draper, Utah with her teenage daughters, two Golden Retrievers and aforementioned husband. Part footloose buccaneer, part quixotic observer of life, Sarah’s restless heart is most content when reading or writing books.
