Friday, November 7, 2014
Thursday, August 21, 2014
Blog Tour
Fallen Knight is going on a blog tour from August 25th to October 5th! Come join me and read excerpts, interviews, and reviews of my latest release! See you there!
Wednesday, June 18, 2014
Sneak Peek into FALLEN KNIGHT
The official release date (June 22nd) for FALLEN KNIGHT is almost here! Here's a sneak peek to whet your appetite :)
Enjoy!
Prologue
King Edward’s Court, England 1354 AD
The sounds and chatter abruptly ended as soon as Gareth de Mowbrey set foot into the royal court. His hands and feet were tied to iron chains, the long chains scraping across the cold stone floor, rattling in his wake. As a knight, he had witnessed many prisoners entering the court like this. But now he was the one who would stand before the king, with heavy iron chains weighing him down.
In the dungeon the night had merged into day; he had no idea how long he had been imprisoned. And when the guard came to get him, he knew his time had come. First, he would face a trial by ordeal, and then his fate would be sealed by that outcome, which was undoubtedly death.
The two knights Derrik d’Evant and Jonathan d’Abelard were already there, waiting for the trial to begin.
A half dozen men also stood at a distance from the king’s throne. They all turned, silently watching his approach, speculation and judgment already present on their faces.
Jonathan stood with his back as straight as a rod, his gaze zeroing in on Gareth. The knight had dark shadows under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept. His hair was mused and the beginnings of a beard shadowed his chin. An image of a fierce hawk was embroidered boldly on his surcoat and covered the shining armor that he wore. He looked every bit the legendary knight that he was, forceful and forbidding. His presence was commanding, and the surrounding men kept a respectful distance from him.
He was close enough to see Jonathan’s face. But then he wished that he didn’t witness his friend’s lips tighten with distaste, or how he averted his eyes, as if he couldn’t stand the sight of him. The rejection shot through to his heart, as if an arrow had pierced it. But this is what I deserve.
He hung his head, not wanting to see the disgust in Jonathan’s eyes. He focused on placing one foot over the other. The guard gave him an impatient shove. And when he still didn’t move fast enough, the guard pushed him a little harder. Gareth stumbled to his knees, the chains around his legs and hands clinking as they made hard contact with the stone floor.
Gareth slowly got up, and through the slits of his eyes, he examined the men who were present to witness his judgment. Most of the faces were familiar to him.
The warden who officiated the trials, stood back with the others, his hands noticeably empty. Almost with dread, Gareth looked over toward King Edward. The monarch sat on his throne with one elbow propped up on the armrest and his chin resting on an open palm.
“Tell us what has happened,” the king commanded, the expression on his face grim. His advisor stood at his side, the man’s expression as serious as his ruler.
“Your majesty, Sir Gareth killed the Grey Knight,” Jonathan said, his voice dripping with disappointment and barely concealed disgust. “He killed my bastard brother after giving word that he would bring him safely to the royal court. He did this, your majesty, and robbed us all of our right to witness high justice.”
Gareth stared straight ahead, trying to ignore the cutting accusation. Of course this was useless. The sting of Jonathan’s censure had the ability to puncture through armor. He wouldn’t have cared if the charge came from another man, but this came from the Iron Hawk. He was a man who Gareth had traveled with, shared bread with, and who he trusted with his life. In all manner except for blood, Jonathan was his brother.
“This is a serious charge,” King Edward said, stroking his neatly trimmed beard. “What proof do you have that he did this?” He flicked his eyes over to the young knight. “Sir Derrik, what did you witness? Did you see the murder of Raulf of Blackburn?”
Derrik stepped forward. “When I arrived, the Grey Knight was already dead, your majesty. I had thought perhaps that the death was an accident.”
“’Twas no accident,” Jonathan interjected. “I heard the confession from his own lips.”
“Do you deny this, Sir Gareth?” the king asked, his eyes steady and cool.
“Nay,” he said, licking his cracked lips, his voice low and raspy. “I ended the Grey Knight’s life. But ‘twas what he deserved after what he did to my brother Reuben, to Lady Amelia,” he glanced over at Jonathan, “and to countless other people.”
“Aye, the Grey Knight’s life was ended,” Jonathan said bitterly, “but it should not have been by your hands.”
Gareth sensed all eyes turning toward him. A murmur sounded among the crowd. And the words disgrace and dishonor buzzed around his ears, making them burn.
“You killed Raulf,” Jonathan continued, his voice quiet although there was fury in it. He then raised a finger, pointing it to the centre of Gareth’s chest, his hand trembling slightly from the force of his reproach. “You did this when I explicitly told you not to harm him. And you denied me the one thing that was most important to me. Now I will never see the Grey Knight hanged for what he did to my betrothed.” His voice cracked and his eyes brightened for a moment, as if he was overcome with emotion. “And you lied about killing him.” He paused, heaving in a heavy breath, his nostrils flaring slightly. “How could you do this to me, Gareth? After I took you in and treated you as kin. You knew that I had waited ten years to see the Grey Knight punished.” He blinked rapidly a few times before he buried his head in his hand. But when his hand dropped away from his face and he looked up again, there was loathing in his eyes. And as he spoke again, his voice was as hard as steel.“You took an oath to be truthful at all times, to be honorable at all costs. But you have failed in your duty. You have failed me.”
Gareth closed his eyes, unable to look at his friend. He couldn’t deny that he took the vows. Nor could he deny that he broke them
“You sire,” Jonathan continued, his voice ringing throughout the court, “are not fit to be a knight.”
A hush descended upon them, and the only sounds were the crackling of the fire at the far end of the room.
I robbed him of his vengeance. For a fleeting, almost desperate moment, Gareth felt sick to his stomach. Never had he witnessed so much hatred coming from his friend. And all that hatred was directed at him.
“We have heard enough,” King Edward said, breaking the silence. He lowered his hand from underneath his bearded chin and settled his dark eyes onto Gareth. “You have put us in a difficult position, Sir Gareth. A crime of this magnitude must be punished. When you take your oaths to become a knight, you cannot treat these vows lightly. And for you to withhold the truth — this act seriously undermines your integrity as a man and as a warrior.” He paused for half a beat, allowing his words to sink in.“However, we cannot forget that you are a good and loyal knight, a knight sympathetic to our cause. Nor can we forget the loyal service that you and your brother had given to the state.”
A low hum went through the crowd, and a few people nodded their heads in agreement. The king held up his hand for silence and almost immediately the noise dwindled.
“Make no mistake, the man known as the Grey Knight was a menace to the state,” the king continued, his voice ringing with authority. “He terrorized the people of this kingdom for ten long years. ‘Twas only a matter of time before he was caught and killed.” He nodded to the guard. “Release his chains.”
“But your majesty —” Jonathan began.
“We are not finished,” the king interrupted, he pinned a glacial stare at the knight.
Jonathan snapped his mouth shut.
The guard unlocked the chains and tugged at the links, causing the metal prison to slither to the floor.
His burden was gone and he felt light. He rubbed at the raw area where the iron chains had chaffed at his skin, but that was a small price to pay. At least now he knew that the king didn’t intend to kill him. However his relief was short-lived.
The king shifted his eyes back to Gareth. “For your crime of breaking the sacred vows of knighthood,” he continued, “You will be banished to the outer reaches of the realm.”
A gasp sounded from the group that surrounded them, and they turned to one another, whispering their astonishment.
Jonathan slapped his gauntlet on his armored leg, the metal clanking against metal. He seemed almost unable to contain his objection, but he didn’t dare speak up again.
Was he supposed to be relieved or dismayed? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that torture, whipping and death were the usual punishments for a crime of this scale. But the king’s decree made him feel numb. He would be banished outside the kingdom. And even though he wasn’t stripped of his title, he could no longer be a knight as his reputation was now in shreds.
The guard bent down to gather up the chains on the ground just as the king’s advisor spoke quietly into the king’s ear. He handed a parchment over to King Edward.
“You are dismissed,” King Edward said, waving his hand in the air. Taking the parchment, he broke the seal and began to read it.
Gareth could feel the hostility emanating from Jonathan. The king’s punishment was too light it seemed. He glanced over at his friend, and when their eyes met, Gareth felt the other man’s loathing shoot straight to his gut.
“I’m sorry —”
“Don’t speak to me,” Jonathan said, his teeth clenched. “Your words are meaningless. I will forever regret that I had put my trust in you.” With that, he pivoted on one foot and stalked off.
As Gareth watched his friend leave, an abject sensation flooded his body and gathered in his heart.
His shoulders slumped slightly, and he started to move forward. Just then a hand touched his arm, stopping him. He turned to find Derrik at his side.
“I tried my best to convince them that ‘twas an accident, Gareth,” he said.
He shook off the other man’s hand.“You have my gratitude. But as I’ve told the Hawk, I meant to kill the Grey Knight, and that’s what I did.”
Enjoy!
Prologue
King Edward’s Court, England 1354 AD
The sounds and chatter abruptly ended as soon as Gareth de Mowbrey set foot into the royal court. His hands and feet were tied to iron chains, the long chains scraping across the cold stone floor, rattling in his wake. As a knight, he had witnessed many prisoners entering the court like this. But now he was the one who would stand before the king, with heavy iron chains weighing him down.
In the dungeon the night had merged into day; he had no idea how long he had been imprisoned. And when the guard came to get him, he knew his time had come. First, he would face a trial by ordeal, and then his fate would be sealed by that outcome, which was undoubtedly death.
The two knights Derrik d’Evant and Jonathan d’Abelard were already there, waiting for the trial to begin.
A half dozen men also stood at a distance from the king’s throne. They all turned, silently watching his approach, speculation and judgment already present on their faces.
Jonathan stood with his back as straight as a rod, his gaze zeroing in on Gareth. The knight had dark shadows under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept. His hair was mused and the beginnings of a beard shadowed his chin. An image of a fierce hawk was embroidered boldly on his surcoat and covered the shining armor that he wore. He looked every bit the legendary knight that he was, forceful and forbidding. His presence was commanding, and the surrounding men kept a respectful distance from him.
He was close enough to see Jonathan’s face. But then he wished that he didn’t witness his friend’s lips tighten with distaste, or how he averted his eyes, as if he couldn’t stand the sight of him. The rejection shot through to his heart, as if an arrow had pierced it. But this is what I deserve.
He hung his head, not wanting to see the disgust in Jonathan’s eyes. He focused on placing one foot over the other. The guard gave him an impatient shove. And when he still didn’t move fast enough, the guard pushed him a little harder. Gareth stumbled to his knees, the chains around his legs and hands clinking as they made hard contact with the stone floor.
Gareth slowly got up, and through the slits of his eyes, he examined the men who were present to witness his judgment. Most of the faces were familiar to him.
The warden who officiated the trials, stood back with the others, his hands noticeably empty. Almost with dread, Gareth looked over toward King Edward. The monarch sat on his throne with one elbow propped up on the armrest and his chin resting on an open palm.
“Tell us what has happened,” the king commanded, the expression on his face grim. His advisor stood at his side, the man’s expression as serious as his ruler.
“Your majesty, Sir Gareth killed the Grey Knight,” Jonathan said, his voice dripping with disappointment and barely concealed disgust. “He killed my bastard brother after giving word that he would bring him safely to the royal court. He did this, your majesty, and robbed us all of our right to witness high justice.”
Gareth stared straight ahead, trying to ignore the cutting accusation. Of course this was useless. The sting of Jonathan’s censure had the ability to puncture through armor. He wouldn’t have cared if the charge came from another man, but this came from the Iron Hawk. He was a man who Gareth had traveled with, shared bread with, and who he trusted with his life. In all manner except for blood, Jonathan was his brother.
“This is a serious charge,” King Edward said, stroking his neatly trimmed beard. “What proof do you have that he did this?” He flicked his eyes over to the young knight. “Sir Derrik, what did you witness? Did you see the murder of Raulf of Blackburn?”
Derrik stepped forward. “When I arrived, the Grey Knight was already dead, your majesty. I had thought perhaps that the death was an accident.”
“’Twas no accident,” Jonathan interjected. “I heard the confession from his own lips.”
“Do you deny this, Sir Gareth?” the king asked, his eyes steady and cool.
“Nay,” he said, licking his cracked lips, his voice low and raspy. “I ended the Grey Knight’s life. But ‘twas what he deserved after what he did to my brother Reuben, to Lady Amelia,” he glanced over at Jonathan, “and to countless other people.”
“Aye, the Grey Knight’s life was ended,” Jonathan said bitterly, “but it should not have been by your hands.”
Gareth sensed all eyes turning toward him. A murmur sounded among the crowd. And the words disgrace and dishonor buzzed around his ears, making them burn.
“You killed Raulf,” Jonathan continued, his voice quiet although there was fury in it. He then raised a finger, pointing it to the centre of Gareth’s chest, his hand trembling slightly from the force of his reproach. “You did this when I explicitly told you not to harm him. And you denied me the one thing that was most important to me. Now I will never see the Grey Knight hanged for what he did to my betrothed.” His voice cracked and his eyes brightened for a moment, as if he was overcome with emotion. “And you lied about killing him.” He paused, heaving in a heavy breath, his nostrils flaring slightly. “How could you do this to me, Gareth? After I took you in and treated you as kin. You knew that I had waited ten years to see the Grey Knight punished.” He blinked rapidly a few times before he buried his head in his hand. But when his hand dropped away from his face and he looked up again, there was loathing in his eyes. And as he spoke again, his voice was as hard as steel.“You took an oath to be truthful at all times, to be honorable at all costs. But you have failed in your duty. You have failed me.”
Gareth closed his eyes, unable to look at his friend. He couldn’t deny that he took the vows. Nor could he deny that he broke them
“You sire,” Jonathan continued, his voice ringing throughout the court, “are not fit to be a knight.”
A hush descended upon them, and the only sounds were the crackling of the fire at the far end of the room.
I robbed him of his vengeance. For a fleeting, almost desperate moment, Gareth felt sick to his stomach. Never had he witnessed so much hatred coming from his friend. And all that hatred was directed at him.
“We have heard enough,” King Edward said, breaking the silence. He lowered his hand from underneath his bearded chin and settled his dark eyes onto Gareth. “You have put us in a difficult position, Sir Gareth. A crime of this magnitude must be punished. When you take your oaths to become a knight, you cannot treat these vows lightly. And for you to withhold the truth — this act seriously undermines your integrity as a man and as a warrior.” He paused for half a beat, allowing his words to sink in.“However, we cannot forget that you are a good and loyal knight, a knight sympathetic to our cause. Nor can we forget the loyal service that you and your brother had given to the state.”
A low hum went through the crowd, and a few people nodded their heads in agreement. The king held up his hand for silence and almost immediately the noise dwindled.
“Make no mistake, the man known as the Grey Knight was a menace to the state,” the king continued, his voice ringing with authority. “He terrorized the people of this kingdom for ten long years. ‘Twas only a matter of time before he was caught and killed.” He nodded to the guard. “Release his chains.”
“But your majesty —” Jonathan began.
“We are not finished,” the king interrupted, he pinned a glacial stare at the knight.
Jonathan snapped his mouth shut.
The guard unlocked the chains and tugged at the links, causing the metal prison to slither to the floor.
His burden was gone and he felt light. He rubbed at the raw area where the iron chains had chaffed at his skin, but that was a small price to pay. At least now he knew that the king didn’t intend to kill him. However his relief was short-lived.
The king shifted his eyes back to Gareth. “For your crime of breaking the sacred vows of knighthood,” he continued, “You will be banished to the outer reaches of the realm.”
A gasp sounded from the group that surrounded them, and they turned to one another, whispering their astonishment.
Jonathan slapped his gauntlet on his armored leg, the metal clanking against metal. He seemed almost unable to contain his objection, but he didn’t dare speak up again.
Was he supposed to be relieved or dismayed? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that torture, whipping and death were the usual punishments for a crime of this scale. But the king’s decree made him feel numb. He would be banished outside the kingdom. And even though he wasn’t stripped of his title, he could no longer be a knight as his reputation was now in shreds.
The guard bent down to gather up the chains on the ground just as the king’s advisor spoke quietly into the king’s ear. He handed a parchment over to King Edward.
“You are dismissed,” King Edward said, waving his hand in the air. Taking the parchment, he broke the seal and began to read it.
Gareth could feel the hostility emanating from Jonathan. The king’s punishment was too light it seemed. He glanced over at his friend, and when their eyes met, Gareth felt the other man’s loathing shoot straight to his gut.
“I’m sorry —”
“Don’t speak to me,” Jonathan said, his teeth clenched. “Your words are meaningless. I will forever regret that I had put my trust in you.” With that, he pivoted on one foot and stalked off.
As Gareth watched his friend leave, an abject sensation flooded his body and gathered in his heart.
His shoulders slumped slightly, and he started to move forward. Just then a hand touched his arm, stopping him. He turned to find Derrik at his side.
“I tried my best to convince them that ‘twas an accident, Gareth,” he said.
He shook off the other man’s hand.“You have my gratitude. But as I’ve told the Hawk, I meant to kill the Grey Knight, and that’s what I did.”
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
History’s Greatest Knight: William Marshal
A French poem called L’Historie de Guilaume le Maréchal, with over 19,000 lines exists and details the colorful account of one of the greatest knights of the middle ages —William Marshal.
Likely the poem glorifies the man and maybe even embellishes his accomplishments, but there is no doubt that this warrior was a self-made man. He was the fourth son of a minor lord and despite a bleak future, he rose to become a trusted servant of kings and ranked as one of the wealthiest knights of his time.
 |
William Marshal unhorses Baldwin Guisnes during a joust.
(From Matthew Paris' the Historia Major) *
|
Apparently, though, his road to greatness was hard-won.
In 1152, when he was only six years old, he was captured by King Stephen and was used as a pawn to force John Marshal, his father, to surrender a castle in Newbury, England. You see, John Marshal once served under the English king, but he later changed loyalties to Empress Matilda. William’s father made a deal with King Stephen, promising that he would release the besieged Newbury Castle in exchange for his son. But the elder Marshal broke his promise and sent reinforcements through the town gates, making it abundantly clear that he had no intentions of surrendering the castle. When William’s life was threatened, his father merely scoffed and declared “"I still have the hammer and the anvil with which to forge still more and better sons!" The king, fortunately, was only bluffing and couldn’t bring himself to kill an innocent child.
Eventually William was returned to his father, but by then he probably knew that his father held little regard for him. Boys of his status were typically sent away to train as a knight when they were six years old. William’s father, however, didn’t bother to send him away until he was almost thirteen.
So in 1159, he arrived in Tancarville, Normandy to train under his cousin William de Tancarville. While there, he essentially honed all the combat skills he needed to become a full-fledged knight.
In 1167, the English and French kings were at war with one another. William’s cousin was sent to Drincourt to defend the Normandy borders against the French. It was at this location where William became knighted.
The following day news reached them that the French had crossed the border, causing havoc as they marched toward Drincourt. So when the enemies arrived at the town, William enthusiastically threw himself into the skirmish. They successfully defeated the enemies, and the newly minted knight was able to boast that he had warded off thirteen knights and unhorsed many more. His “victory” however was mocked by his peers since he had come away from his first battle with nothing to show for his efforts except for a torn vest and a dead horse.
A few months later, after France and England declared peace, William’s cousin asked him to fight under his banner at a prominent tournament in Le Mans, Normandy. At this tournament, his reputation soared. News spread about his amazing strength and bravery, and how he single-handedly killed five knights who had ambushed him. He also captured enough prisoners for ransom, and obtained many fine horses and equipment from his opponents. Needless to say, he loved participating in tournaments and winning.
The following year, before the new tournament season began, William accompanied his Uncle Patrick, the Earl of Salisbury. They had the task of escorting Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine to her new holding in Lusignan. Unfortunately they were ambushed, and while the queen was able to get away, his uncle was killed. And even though he was seriously outnumbered, William fought his attackers. In the end, he managed to kill six of their horses before he was finally subdued and taken for ransom. The queen was impressed enough by her champion that she paid the ransom, and bestowed upon him the honor of mentoring Prince Henry, her 15 year old eldest son and heir to the throne. William’s service to the young prince proved to be unwavering, which later sent him on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem during the time of the Crusades.
In his long and eventful life, William served four kings, married one of the wealthiest heiresses in England, and acquired holdings in England, Ireland, Normandy and Wales. At one point, he was even chosen as a regent, and was in charge of running the kingdom until his young king came of age. He finally died on May 14, 1219 at the age of 72. And at his burial, the Archbishop of Canterbury proclaimed William Marshal as “the best knight who ever lived.”
Sources:
* Public domain image
Monday, May 12, 2014
My Writing Process
Thank you to my friend Ria Cantrell for inviting me on this My Writing Process Blog Tour. She writes Scottish historical romances with an interesting and strong focus on the paranormal. You can check out her writing process at http://kld0655.wordpress.com.
What am I working on?
Right now I'm working on "Fallen Knight", book 3 of the Knight's of Honor Trilogy. In this story we explore charged emotional themes of love, revenge, and redemption. Readers will recognize some of the characters from books 1 and 2, and will also become acquainted with new ones.
The main skeleton of the story is done although I still have some minor details to take care of before it's ready to launch.
Then, after this book is released, I'm off to start other exciting projects that are waiting in the wing :)
How does my work differ from others of its genre?
While my works have aspects of truth in them, they are mainly based on a medieval world that I've made up. At its core, my stories are romances, although I mix and experiment with different elements from other genres such as fantasy, action, adventure and suspense. I also enjoy exploring intense emotions like love, loyalty, trust, jealousy, betrayal, anger, fear, etc.
And while I write about these difficult themes, I stay true to the genre - there absolutely has to be chemistry and romance, and the story must have a happily ever after for my main characters. A story that ends badly just makes you feel crappy, and I can't bring myself to finish off a story with doom and gloom.
Why do I write what I do?
It all started when I began reading romance books again when my second child was born.
You see, my daughter was a very fussy baby, and I desperately needed a break from her. Of course with a baby tied to you and another young child running around, where can you go? No where. So I thought disappearing into books was a good way to regain my sanity. That was when I picked up an old Johanna Lindsay book and became obsessed with trying to capture that magical feeling of entering into a world not your own.
Time flew by and soon enough my daughter was about to start kindergarten. Of course I didn't want to return to the work force. Going over my options, I decided that I'd enjoy writing romances as a career.
How does my writing process work?
My writing process is pretty typical, I think.
I usually outline the plot so that I have a good idea of what the story is about. Once the outline is done, I run the storyline by my husband, who gives me an outsider's perspective.
When I'm finally satisfied with the outline, I set it aside. Then keeping the general plot direction in mind, I allow the story to unfold as I type. Oftentimes, the characters reveal themselves to me and force me off the original plot path, so in these instances, I have to refine the story direction and patch up any inconsistencies.
Next Week:
Amber Dane loves all things Medieval and is the author of the bestselling series The Northern Knights. When not writing about the middle ages and Norman knights, you will find her penning romantic suspense. Though her grand passion will forever be – old-style bodice rippers, charging knights, and strapping alpha males. Find out more about Amber below:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/
--
Amy Mullen is a freelance writer and romance author living in Corning, NY, with her husband, Patrick, her two children, and an orange cat named Steve. She is the author of A Stormy Knight and Redefining Rayne.
Amy has been writing about love both lost and regained since she was old enough to have her first broken heart. Her love of history and her intermittent jaunts into amateur genealogy led her to a love affair with writing historical fiction. When not writing, she snaps pictures, enjoys the company of her children, and when time allows, loves to bury her nose in a good book.
Website: http://www.authoramymullen.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/
Monday, May 5, 2014
Who is the Green Man?
The medieval times were rife with superstition and dread.
There were simply some things that couldn't be explained, and people came up
with ideas that made sense to them.
Most of the beliefs of the time were heavily based on the fear
of the supernatural. And to ward off the pervading sense of evil, people used protective
measures such as herbal plants like rosemary, potions, spells, and incantations.
One interesting belief I came across (and one which I
incorporated into my story Heart of a Knight) was about the Green Man.
(Source: Maskmaker.com)
Some scholars believed that the forest spirit was neither
good nor evil. In fact, they argued that because of his coloring, the Green Man
symbolized vitality as well as the unpredictable and fearful force of nature.
According to these historians, the color green represented
rebirth, nature, fertility, and the phase of growth each spring. Therefore, the
Green Man had the ability to be benevolent, to perpetuate growth and promote
good crops. But the supernatural entity had a malevolent side as well, since the
color green was also associated with witchcraft, devilry, fairies and spirits.
In British folklore, for example, the devil was sometimes depicted as having a
green tinge to his skin.
In terms of the Green Man’s physical appearance, he was
usually described as having either a head entirely covered in green leaves; a
head with vegetation ejecting from his mouth; or a head with foliage growing
out from his eyes, ears, nose and mouth. Sometimes the forest spirit was shown
as having antlers and at other times, he sported horns.
As you can see, the actual appearance of the supernatural
entity is indefinite and debatable. And because of this ambiguity, scholars
have attempted to make different kinds of associations. Some historians for
example theorize that the green colored knight in the 14th century
Arthurian poem Sir Gawain and the Green
Knight was in fact the Green Man portrayed in medieval myths.
Nowadays, many of us don’t know who the Green Man is or what
he represents. But even with this being the case, there is no disputing that his
presence is still prevalent in our society today. In fact, you’ll find his sculpted
head, with the leaves and vegetation sprouting from his visage, appearing on many
of Europe ’s cathedrals and public buildings. And because
the Europeans brought their beliefs with them when they colonized the world, the
Green Man motifs can also be found everywhere, even integrated into American
architecture.
So next time you’re visiting Europe or maybe even
somewhere closer to home like Portland, Oregon, look up. Chances are you’ll see
the Green Man staring down at you. But really take a look at him and decide — is
the expression on his face one of pain or of resentment?
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