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The Swordsman of the Sun Fiction 978-1-9162997-9-5

Arthurian romance is usually set in the early Middle Ages but it is often observed that these fabulous tales owe their source to Celtic pagan myths. In Swordsman of the Sun, Geoff Roberts dispenses with the foreground and indulges the reader in a fantasy of Sun worshipping cults that archaeology cannot know but suspect existed in the Iron Age. It is five hundred years before the birth of Christ and an orphan boy strives to fulfil his foretold destiny as a hero. The Arthurian challenges, triumphs and tragedies are all present but through adapting the legends to an earlier millennium they gain a purity often lost in Dark Age confusion resonating more with Homer’s Iliad than Malory’s Le Morte d’Arthur. The book is illustrated throughout with the author’s own drawings from his alluring imagination.

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On Raven Fell the wind is bitter,

Every gust bears the smell of snow.

Harsh the call the ravens utter;

Black sky above and black rocks below.

Black the rocks and black the sky,

Sable the wings as the ravens wheel.

Is it the scent of blood that calls,

Borne from afar by the rising gale?

Blaring trumpets, pounding hooves,

In the charge was it Arthur led?

Shieldwall breached by the dragon banner:

The Saxon foemen turned and fled.

Do they remember the clash of battle,

The ring of steel, the cries of pain?

The thick of the fight round the streaming

standards?

Pendragon!'' the cry resounds again.

Black the rocks, black the sky,

The ravens' call rings harsh and loud;

Dark the humps of the silent dead,

The falling snow their only shroud.

On Raven Fell the wind is bitter,

Every gust a snowy squall:

Ill-omened the croak of the sable ravens

As they wheel and soar over Raven Fell.