Taking the Cross
[historical fiction]
by
Charles Gibson
Release date: October 1, 2014
at Köehler Books
at Köehler Books
269 pages
ISBN: 1940192277
***
SYNOPSIS
In the Middle Ages not all crusades were fought in the Holy Land. A two-pronged threat to the Catholic Church was growing within Christendom itself and Pope Innocent III called for the crusade against heresy to eliminate both the Albigenses and Valdenses, two movements that did not adhere to Church orthodoxy.
Andreas, a knight who longs to go on crusade to the Holy Land, finds himself fighting against one in his French homeland. While Andreas wages war for the lives and religious freedom of his people, a battle rages within his soul.
Eva, a young woman of a new religious order, the Beguines, discovers a secret message within a letter about the death of her father in the Holy Land. As she learns more of her father, she is forced to confront the profound and perilous spiritual inheritance he has bequeathed to her. A legacy for which she must fight.
Hearing of the feats of Andreas, Eva senses her inheritance may lead her to him.
Filled with battles of the flesh and the spirit, Taking the Cross reveals a passionate aspect of Medieval times where some fought ardently for the freedom of others. [provided by the author]
Attention reviewers: some medieval warfare violence
My Review:
Four Stars
Copy received from France Book Tours for an honest review
I really enjoyed "Taking the Cross" by Charles Gibson. There were so many layers to this story that it made it for a gratifying read. I really liked the historical context that it specifically discusses. I really learned so much that I had no idea about! I had heard of the Crusades and thought that I knew enough about them but I had no idea that they occurred in France. It was my first time hearing about the Albigensian crusades. Eva and Andres gave this story heart and soul. They were both such interesting and complex characters. The dynamic of the story line was perfectly intertwined with the history of the crusades. I really enjoyed this book and look forward to reading more in the series!
Excerpt
“I brought the wood you requested.” Eva
handed him the piece.
“Ah yes. Pera wood,” said the
Painter, reaching for the rectangular object. He examined the rich brown color
of the smooth-grained timber. “To simply behold such a tree, one would not know
the beauty or value of its wood.” His finger moved the length of the wood grain.
“Do you have supply enough for the choir, sacristy, and altars? They will
require perhaps forty more pieces of this size.” The Painter set down the wood,
turned to his stone jars.
“The ten trees nearest the valley of the
Rhône have reached good size this season. They should yield twice that bounty.”
“Splendid. His grace, the bishop of
Avignon, will pay handsomely for the adornments. You must cut the wood now and
let it dry over winter.” The Painter stopped closing the stone jars with
pigments, cocked his head sideways, and narrowed his eyes. “There must be no
cracking as in la cathedrale in Arles.”
Eva clucked her tongue once and let
indignity fill her voice. “That was but one piece, and three years past at
that.”
The Painter took a step back, held up his
hands in conciliation, color-etched palms outward. “I know this, and you
repaired it admirably, dear Eva. I examined it anew on my recent journey to
Arles and it remains whole, have no fear.” He closed his right hand except for
his index finger and pointed it at her. “In Avignon, there must be no such
failing.” He poked her thrice in the shoulder. It had ever been his way of
chastening. “The city is special to Rome in ways I do not comprehend. Popes
enjoy making sojourn there and celebrating mass. Success in la cathedrale
Notre Dame de Doms will expand our good name and our business.You most
certainly will earn your coinage this time.”
“The one exception notwithstanding, do
not I always surpass expectation?” She gave the most winsome smile she could
muster, let the corners of her lips droop to a frown. “Although you receive all
recognition.”
Her eyes glanced casually about the room,
but her mind was working like a thresher, trying to sift out what felt
different about this place, this large villa occupied by only one man. Another
presence was here. She could sense it. Whether corporeal or ethereal, such
knowledge eluded her.
“I never reveal the name of my carver and
my customers do not inquire,” replied the Painter, seemingly oblivious to Eva’s
visual scanning of his studio.
“I never know who would approve or
disapprove of a woman supplying the ornate carving of a masculine cathedral or
monastery,” he stated with a broad wave of his hand. He proceeded to bend over
the table and blow lightly on the still drying rosettes.
“Slender fingers make the most intricate
designs and latticework,” replied Eva, collapsing into a black leather chair.
Exhaling, she turned her full attention toward the Painter, a squat man with
powerful limbs, a wild shock of black hair and penetrating, hazel-colored eyes.
Her thoughts returned to marching armies.
“If the Moors again crossed the Pyrenees for Carcassonne, you would surely know
it before this lowly Beguine,” she said coyly, as she turned one corner of her
mouth slightly upward. “You claim I was your primary informant of the armies
from the North.” She found herself questioning at that moment why she had told
the Painter the same day of what she had seen, but had waited until this day to
tell Claris. Had she somehow known Claris would ask of her father? “I may have
been the first to tell you, but I doubt the singular one. Secrets give not
health to the bones, nor the soul.”
Raising her eyebrows, she slowly allowed
her lips to form a wide grin. She loved to knock people off-balance emotionally,
leaving them uncertain how to respond to her. It gave opportunity for her to
supply the answer to the dilemma she had created with the right word, or
phrase, or compliment.
“Unburden yourself of any dark knowledge
you carry my Painter. Even as you mock me your eyes betray you.”
“And your eyes bedevil me, my handsome
Beguine, for I could not paint anything so beautiful if I practiced
until blessed Jhesu returns.” In past days, he would have smiled in an
explosion of light like only her Painter could do and they would both laugh,
even as she pretended not to be moved by the compliment. But the smile was
faint, the light absent, and he averted his eyes, which was a scarce thing
indeed.
Eva followed his eyes with her own and
moved to meet his turning gaze. “I know that blessed Jhesu has called
you into many business dealings with bishops, men who are not always discreet
with the knowledge they possess.” She shaped her slightly playful expression
into one of earnestness. “I implore you, sir, do not speak in riddles. What
news have you of the war against heresy? For that is what it must be.”
The Painter’s eyes stopped looking away
and met her gaze. For a moment, he observed her determined expression. His look
was as those who had studied her face, seeking knowledge of how a lady with
such fair skin had dusky eyes and hair. She had been told once they were a
shade of brown so rich as to be but a whisper from ebony.
Yet the Painter knew of her lineage of a
pale German father and dark-haired Provençal mother. His eyes seemed to be
probing beyond flesh and bone, as if to assess the tenacity of her soul. It
felt as a test and was unnerving. She matched his gaze as one would return a
blow in a tournament. A half smile lifted one corner of his mouth and moved his
eyes. Good. “The gift of discerning is truly yours. You speak of Bishops with
secrets to tell, and you are right, as always with such things.” The Painter
hoisted the pear wood once more and turned it in his hands and studied it as if
it held a mystery beyond fathoming. After a moment, he lifted his eyes off the
timber and fixed them squarely on her dark soul windows. “There is one, a Lombart,
who has journeyed a fortnight from Siena with news. Let him unburden himself to
you, Eva. He carries tales of your paire for your ears alone.”
***
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Charles Gibson first started reading about history and geography when he was seven.
He wrote his first short story at the age of nine.
He continues to read and write whenever he can.
Charles has spent many years researching the Middle Ages and the Crusades,
and has traveled to the Languedoc region in France.
He has combined the passions of history and geography and prose to finish his first novel, Taking the Cross.
It takes place during the summer of 1209 in France.
Charles Gibson has previously written for the inspirational book series God Allows U-Turns
as well as for a Minnesota newspaper.
He also works as a project manager for a medical device company.
He also loves travel writing,
and would like to start his own magazine some day about travel as a journey through life.
The dominant theme of his writing is freedom.
“It was for freedom that Christ set us free;
therefore keep standing firm and do not be subject again to a yoke of slavery.”
He wrote his first short story at the age of nine.
He continues to read and write whenever he can.
Charles has spent many years researching the Middle Ages and the Crusades,
and has traveled to the Languedoc region in France.
He has combined the passions of history and geography and prose to finish his first novel, Taking the Cross.
It takes place during the summer of 1209 in France.
Charles Gibson has previously written for the inspirational book series God Allows U-Turns
as well as for a Minnesota newspaper.
He also works as a project manager for a medical device company.
He also loves travel writing,
and would like to start his own magazine some day about travel as a journey through life.
The dominant theme of his writing is freedom.
“It was for freedom that Christ set us free;
therefore keep standing firm and do not be subject again to a yoke of slavery.”
He lives in Minnesota with his lovely wife and energetic sons.
He can be reached at cg [at] charlesgibson [dot] net
He can be reached at cg [at] charlesgibson [dot] net
Send him your questions and comments.
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