The Secret Keeper: A Novel of Kateryn Parr

Sandra Byrd

The author of To Die For returns to the court of Henry VIII as a young woman is caught between love and honor.

Juliana St. John is the daughter of a prosperous knight. Though her family wants her to marry the son of her father's business partner, circumstances set her on a course toward the court of Henry VIII and his last wife, Kateryn Parr. For she knows a secret. She has been given the gift of prophecy, and in one of her visions she has seen Sir Thomas shredding the dress of the king's daughter, the lady Elizabeth, to perilous consequence.

As Juliana learns the secrets of King Henry VIII's court, she faces threats and opposition, learning truths about her own life that will undo everything she holds dear.

"Rich in historical detail, full of intrigue, and starring a memorable heroine, Sandra Byrd's The Secret Keeper kept me completely engrossed in the tumultuous court of Henry VIII. I felt a part of the times, thanks to the author's skillful storytelling, vivid descriptions, and inspiring characters. Readers are in for a special treat with this remarkable novel." —Francine Rivers, New York Times bestselling author

Chapter One Excerpt

Once I began to read out The Acts of the Apostles, I quit, for the moment, of my fears and lost myself in the resonant words of Saint Paul and the upturned faces of the crofters, the millers, and the goodwives, breathing heavily in their mean woolen garb. Sir Thomas remained for the reading but left afore the townsfolk did. Afterward, Father Gregory called me back to a quiet closet shut off from hungry eyes and thirsty ears.

"And now, Juliana. Unburden yourself."

"You know of my dream." I spoke immediately.

He nodded. " I know a little. Would you like to share its entirety?"

"About a year ago, shortly after my father died, I began to have a dream. 'Twas not an ordinary dream, but it was powerful and left me in a sweat and fever with my senses vexed," I said. "My maid, Lucy, would calm me afterward though she was frightened, too." I forced my hands from twisting ropes of my fine skirts and continued.

"I saw a barn, a large barn, filled with wheat and livestock of all kinds. And of course the husbandmen and others who tended the flocks and fields. At night, something kindled within the barn and within minutes the barn was aflame. The livestock and grains were all burnt and the building was too."

"Yes?" His voice was gentle but prodded me to continue.

"At first I had the dream only once, and then six months later it came back. Then after a month, and then a week. Each time the dream would grow more fervent. The heat peeled my skin like parchment and I my ears could not refused the desperate bleating of the animals and the screams of men. One night, I noticed that the doors to the barn looked exactly like the doors to my father's warehouses. And then, 'twas pressed upon my heart, for this reason you have been shown the fire. After some nights I knew I must tell my mother. 'Twas not a choice but a compulsion."

He grimaced, as though swallowing bitter ale. "And she ..."

"Disbelieved me at first. But I was insistent. As you know I am wont to be. My Lady mother has said no more. But lately, I ... dreamt. And I know she heard me call out, though my maid sought to wake and still me as soon as she heard my unrest."

"Is this another of the same kind of dream?"

"Yes."

"Have you told your mother?"
"I have told no one." My voice made it clear that I would not be forthcoming, even to him, with the contents of this dream. "But she came to my chamber and saw my countenance. After my maid had left us she declared me a witch." I swallowed roughly. "Is it true? Am I a witch?"

I looked at my hands, not wanting to see his face, and nor how he might now view me, afore I heard his answer. I desperately wanted to keep his good opinion of me.

"No," he said gently. "You are not a witch. Do not let that trouble you again."

I sighed with relief, perhaps too soon, and looked up as he spoke. "But others could claim that you are one if they hear of your dreams or do not like the content of them. The penalty for witchcraft is death and forfeiture of all material wealth, no matter how highly born. Wait here." He rose and left the room, his long black clerical robes sweeping the fine dust beneath them whilst I tried to quiet the worries that newly beset me.

When he returned, he handed me a book. "Tyndale," I said, tracing my finger over the lettering.

He took the book from me and opened it up to the Acts of the Apostles, just a few pages on from that morning's reading. "It shall be in the last days, saith God: I will pour out of my spirit upon all flesh: and your sons and daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams. And on my servants, and on my handmaidens I will pour out my spirit in those days and they shall prophesy."

We sat there, time marked by a hundred quiet breaths. Then he took the book from me and slipped threads that he pulled from his vestments between various of the pages before handing it back to me.

"My dreams ... they are prophecy?" I whispered, suddenly understanding why he'd chosen that passage.

"'Tis your gift." His drawn face showed me that he knew it to be a heavy burden.
I stood up. "An unsolicited gift! An unwarranted trouble!" I pushed my hair back from my head and when I took my hand away it was wet with the evidence of fear and despair.

"Woe to the pot who tells the potter how she should be fashioned," he rebuked me.

I sat down again, shamed. "I know it well. I am afraid."

"God has specially chosen you, and He will be with you, Juliana."

Cold seeped from the church walls and into my bones, which now felt very like those buried in the plot outside must feel.

"You must take care. There are laws against prophecies, too, if those in power or are noble or highborn are not pleased with the predicted outcome. The prophet or prophetess may be thrown into the Tower for such - and worse."

He took my hand in his own again and I readily yielded it. "God Himself has opened your eyes. Many of the things you foresee shall be difficult and unwelcome and the temptation will be to remain silent or run away. Some you must act upon in faith but may not learn the reason why during this lifetime. I shall pray for you," he said gravely. "That you may be able to resist in the evil days which will surely come. And to stand."

Please visit Sandra at http://www.sandrabyrd.com/; the book is available for purchase at fine bookstores everywhere.

Do Not Reproduce without permission

To Die For: A Novel of Anne Boleyn

To Die For: A Novel of Anne Boleyn

Sandra Byrd

"...this stunning novel ...reexamines Boleyn's life from her beginnings to her rise and eventual fall in the Tudor court. Byrd's novel adds a depth to the character of Anne Boleyn that is often missing in other novels, and she brings the history to life in exquisite detail. Readers might indeed find themselves sympathizing with the young queen. Highly recommended for fans of Philippa Gregory. "

Library Journal,
Starred Review

To Die For, is the story of Meg Wyatt, pledged forever as the best friend to Anne Boleyn since their childhoods on neighboring manors in Kent. When Anne's star begins to ascend, of course she takes her best friend Meg along for the ride. Life in the court of Henry VIII is thrilling at first, but as Anne's favor rises and falls, so does Meg's. And though she's pledged her loyalty to Anne no matter what the test, Meg just might lose her greatest love—and her own life—because of it.

Prologue

Year of Our Lord 1536

There are many ways to arrive at the Tower of London though there are few ways out. Kings and Queens ride in before a coronation, retinue trailing like a train of ermine. Prisoners, however, arrive on foot, shoved through one cavernous gate or another by the wardens who live, as all do, at the mercy of a merciless king. Some unfortunate few are delivered to the Tower by water.
—
The Thames lapped against our boat as it stopped to allow for the entry to be raised.

Chapter One

Year of Our Lord 1518

Allington Castle, Kent, England

"Come with me," I whispered to Anne. She turned to look at her older sister, Mary, busy flirting with my tutors – forbidden, and therefore enticing, conquests. After assessing the safety of our escape Anne turned back to me and nodded, yes. She was up for an adventure as I knew she would be. Rose Ogilvy sat in the corner, carefully plying her needle in and out of a stretch of muslin. She was seventeen years old, same as Anne and me, but I knew she would shy away from this particular exploit, any particular exploit, in fact. To save her embarrassment I didn't ask her along.

We slipped out the door, gathered the layers of skirts in our hands and then raced down the long stone hallway. Recently painted portraits of my Wyatt ancestors were awkwardly affixed to the walls. When he bought the castle, my father, Henry Wyatt, had placed them there to make our family seem more ancient and noble than it was. We were not exactly pretenders, but not exactly of Norman blood, either. They stared down at me, ill at ease, smiths and butchers and small time landowners now forced into velvets and ruffs within a span of time no broader than the width of my hand. And yet we were gentry now. My father expected me to act like the lady he'd suffered to make me be.

We slid out the main entrance, one or two servants catching my eye and warning me back inside with a stern look. "No, Mistress Meg," one urged me. I disregarded them. They knew what might lie ahead for me – they'd borne the same fate, maybe worse. But I refused to be intimidated.

Anne and I linked arms and strolled toward the rows of unattended garden. Just beyond, on the neatly clipped field, our brothers play-jousted with long branches though all were training for real jousts as well. As we strolled by my brother Thomas stopped, dipped into a bow and flourished his hat in our direction. "What a polite young man," Anne said. "Mayhap you'll notice, my brother George isn't tipping his hat toward me."

I grinned. "My brother isn't tipping his hat toward me, either. He'd as soon ignore me as do me good. It's you he's trying to impress, as well you know." A light flush of pleasure spread up Anne's long neck and a little cat-like mewl escaped her lips. She fully realized the affect she'd begun to have on men. Whilst she didn't court their praise, false modesty was not her besetting sin, either.

"I see another bow and this one is particularly in your direction," she said. I looked up and saw Will Ogilvy.

A year older than I, Will's brown hair was long and tousled, his face slightly reddened from the joust. I couldn't help but notice that his arms and chest had thickened over the summer as he grew from a gangly boy into an assured young man. Even from this distance I could see his eyes had the same merry twinkle for me that they'd always had. I nodded primly in his direction – after all, I was a lady, and we were in mixed company. He winked at me.

A wink! The audacity. Who else saw it?

"Mayhap Lord Ogilvy's son should come out of the field. He seems to have dust in his eye," Anne teased. I turned toward her and grinned, thankful for her faithful friendship. She never trained her charm on Will. She knew I planned to have him for myself.

Rewardingly, he seemed completely uninterested in Anne, too.

We sat in the gardens, enveloped in the haze of the exotic scent of my mother's jasmine plants, gossiping about overheard conversations between Anne's ambassador father and high-born mother; they had sent Anne and her sister Mary to apprentice at the French court when the Princess Mary married some years back and they were to return, shortly, after this visit home with their father. We talked about my sister, Alice who had borne yet another child. I would soon go to stay with her for a few months, if my father allowed it. But as Alice was an obedient girl, marrying young and bearing quickly my father favored nearly every request she made. Alas, the same could not be said for me.

"We've got new horses." I finally got the conversation around to its planned target. "My father's horse master brought them `round last week."

"Ooh," Anne said. "Are they fast?"

"I don't know…" I answered. We'd prided ourselves, unseemly, I suppose, on riding as fast and as well as any boy in our group.

"Should we see?" she asked me, as I knew she would. For me to suggest the idea would be disobedient, but for me to accommodate a friend would be hospitality indeed.

We ran to the stables and after petting old favorites we walked to the stalls where the new horses were housed. Our vanity guided our choices. Anne picked out her favorite, a raven mare, barely three years old with deep black eyes, like her own. I showed her the one I loved best, a tamed stallion with a thick auburn mane like my own. He glanced nervously about his stall till I gentled him with quiet words and touches.

"Should you have them saddled?"

My father shouldn't be home from court till tomorrow morning. Then I called over a stable boy. "Saddle these two for us, please."

"If'n you say so, miss," he said, unable to disobey me but nervous nonetheless. I smiled kindly at him, hoping to gentle him as I'd done the stallion.

"I do," I said. And then Anne and I raced and rode.

Please visit Sandra online at www.sandrabyrd.comwhere you can link to purchase her books at a variety of fine booksellers.

All rights reserved. Do not reproduce.

Pièce de Résistance
By Sandra Byrd

The third and final book in Byrd’s Lexi Stuart series is both touching and delicious. Lexi is highly relatable, and readers will identify with her struggles and successes. The scrumptious recipes and exquisite settings round out this beautiful novel. Four Stars, Romantic Times.

The third Lexi Stuart tale (see LET THEM EAT CAKE and BON APPETIT) is a fine entry as the lead protagonist has come home but her choices with opening a bakery and her personal life are complex. Lexi makes the story line sweet yet her relationships are complicated and her decisions difficult leaving fans enjoying the aptly titled PIECE DE RESISTANCE as even the cover is mouth watering delightful. Harriet Klausner

Please visit Sandra on the web at http://www.sandrabyrd.com/. Her books are available for purchase at fine bookshops near you and on the web at http://www.cbd.com/.

A Man of His Word

by Kathleen Fuller

Moriah's heart will only be safe with
A Man of His Word

When Moriah Byler married Levi Miller, she thought they would share a long life together. She is astonished when one day he abruptly leaves the Order, and her along with it. She is hopeful that they'll reconcile, but Levi has a fatal accident. Unbeknownst to him, Moriah is pregnant.

Moriah finds herself alone and unsure where to turn. She's reticent about trusting her heart to anyone. What Moriah doesn't know is that Levi's twin, Gabriel, has loved her for years, but has kept this to himself. Gabriel is a man of his word--and a man of God's word. After another unexpected tragedy, Moriah must learn to unguard her heart and accept his love so she can be made whole again.

You can purchase A Man of His Word from a bookstore near you or at these online bookstores:

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Man-His-Word-Kathleen-Fuller/dp/1595548122/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1246849659&sr=1-1

Christianbook.com: http://www.amazon.com/Man-His-Word-Kathleen-Fuller/dp/1595548122/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1246849659&sr=1-1

Barnes and Noble: http://books.barnesandnoble.com/search/results.aspx?WRD=a+man+of+his+word&box=a%20man%20of%20his%20word&pos=-1

To find out more about Kathleen Fuller and her books visit http://www.kathleenfuller.com/ and http://www.amishhearts.com/

II, or Incredible Interview - Sandra Byrd

Let Them Eat Cake
By Sandra Byrd

Chick-lit never tasted so good! LET THEM EAT CAKE is one of those rare chick-lit novels that integrates faith elements without being preachy, and includes plenty of romance without it being the only point of the protagonist's existence. Five star review, faithfulreader.com


Book Summary :
Lexi Stuart is at a critical crossroads. She's done with college but still living at home, ready to launch a career but unable to find a job, and solidly stalled between boyfriends. When a lighthearted conversation in French with the manager of her favorite bakery turns into a job offer, Lexi accepts. But the actual glamour is minimal: the pay is less than generous, her co-workers are skeptical, her bank account remains vertically-challenged, and her parents are perpetually disappointed. Her only comfort comes from the flirtatious baker she has her eye-but even may not be who he seems to be! So when a handsome young executive dashes into the bakery to pick up his high profile company's special order for an important meeting-an order Lexi has flubbed- she loses her compulsion to please. "What am I going to do?" he shouts. "Let them eat cake!" she fires back with equal passion and a nod to Marie Antoinette. And then, something inside Lexi clicks. Laissez la révolution commencer! Let the revolution begin! Instead of trying to fulfill everyone else's expectations for her life, Lexi embarks on an adventure in trusting God with her future-très bon!

Let Them Eat Cake was a Christy Award finalist for 2008


http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/1400073278

http://www.sandrabyrd.com/

Welcome to incredible interviews, Sandra.

Tell us, did you marry country boy or city boy?

Country boy.

Now, why did you do that?
He accepted my dare to eat escargot. He also had other endearing qualities which have remained, though he hasn't eaten escargot since.

Where to do you and your two children live?
My husband, teenagers and I live near Seattle, Washington.

How many books do you have under your belt or on your bookshelves? I mean of course, what you have written.
I usually have one under my belt, too, as I'm always reading. I've published three dozen or so books, though.

And what's the latest?
A new series, French Twist, which includes Let Them Eat Cake (2007) and Bon Appétit (September, 2008). It's full of pastry and fun and issues for women of all ages. Not "merely" chick lit.

Ah, those are chick-lit and beyond, huh? I love chick-lit. But you've written other stuff, right?
Most of my other books are for the Young Adult market, and I've published a book for new moms, Heartbeats. I plan to continue to write for both teens and adults.

And pieces besides books?
I've enjoyed writing shorter works that have appeared in periodical markets such as Relevant, Clubhouse Magazine, Pockets, Decision, and Guideposts.

I've heard you've been spreading secrets.
What?! Oh, you mean that for the past seven years I've shared my secrets with the many students I mentor through the Christian Writer's Guild. Very funny, Donita. For a minute, you had me wondering about your sanity. I've also authored a series called Secret Sisters, so there is that...

Two more questions. What did you do before turning to full-time writing?
I was an acquisitions editor in the ABA market.

And tell us about your first submission.
My first submission - and rejection - was at age 12. I hid the postcard under my bed for years.