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Quote by J.D. James

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MANAGING CHAOS ... embrace it living the power of NOW: A Modern Warrior's Journey as a practical spiritual guide to being yourself

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J.D. James

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“The horse’s hooves crashed out on the stone floor, echoing in the arched entrance. Ahead, the nave stretched, vast, empty, bathed in colour; the winter sun streaming through stained glass between great arches. The horse snorted, its measured steps ringing out on the flagstones and tombs.”

ReligionAdventureHistorical FictionRenaissance17th CenturyRealistic FictionBritish LiteratureCivil War FictionEnglish Civil WarWar Fiction
Book:Desecration: Winchester 1642
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“The gun stood on its platform, staring out over the breastwork of earth and timber, out across the steep valley to the hill beyond; a flat-topped hill, a great field of wheat laid over it, ripening and shimmering in the late afternoon sun; a cornfield filled with an army, a Cornish army, a superstitious, idolatrous army; an army of half-wild, barbarous heathens; a cornfield and an army to be cut down; a sacrifice to be reaped. 'For they have sown the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind.”

ReligionAdventureHistorical FictionRenaissance17th CenturyRealistic FictionBritish LiteratureCivil War FictionEnglish Civil WarWar Fiction
Book:The Keys of Hell and Death
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“Grenville's line of Cornishmen swayed and lurched, a low growl running through the ranks like a storm far out at sea, the boulders grinding as the waves built. And then it burst, men yelling, shaking their weapons in the air, the pikes clashing, thumping the ground, shouting, demanding, exclaiming, 'Kernow vedn keskerras!' Cornwall will march!”

AdventureHistorical FictionRenaissance17th CenturyRealistic FictionCornwallBritish LiteratureCivil War FictionEnglish Civil WarWar Fiction
Book:The Keys of Hell and Death
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“An old elm tree, its base split by lightning, provided him a comfortable resting place, and he eased his tired body into its caress. The lightning had blasted a hole in the tree nearly the size of a pup tent. The young man surveyed the vicinity from his new perch and saw that he could still see the general’s tent, and the cannon, and a hundred little campfires in the distance. He heard the order for the men to pitch their tents—a bugle call followed by a drum roll—they were here for the night. He closed his eyes and listened to the night sounds. It was calm, no wind. Then he heard the snapping of twigs again.”

Civil War Fiction
Book:Murder Bay: A Ben Carey Mystery
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“Ralph’s horse shifted under him. It sensed the danger, the fear, the icy sweat that ran down his back. He laid a calming hand on the animal’s thick veined neck. Breda had carried him across the battlefield of Edgehill, got him safe away at Aylesbury, Brentford and Turnham. Could they make it back behind Winchester’s walls? The great charger stepped backward. Along their short line, other horses were backing up, tossing their heads, whinnying. ‘As you were!’ Smith held them in check. ‘On my order. Keep close. Together.’ He looked at them. Looked again at the enemy about them. ‘Now! Ride for the gate!”

HistoricalHistorical FictionRenaissance17th CenturyStuartCivil War FictionEnglish Civil WarWar Fiction1600sWinchester
Book:Desecration: Winchester 1642
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