The Midnight of Eights by Justin Newland

Today, I’m delighted to host The Midnight of Eights by Justin Newland. The book is on a blog tour with The Coffee Pot Book Club: https://thecoffeepotbookclub.blogspot.com/2025/02/blog-tour-the-midnight-of-eights-by-justin-newland.html

About the Book

1580.

Nelan Michaels docks at Plymouth after sailing around the world aboard the Golden Hind. He seeks only to master his mystical powers – the mark of the salamander, that mysterious spirit of fire – and reunite with his beloved Eleanor.

After delivering a message to Francis Walsingham, he’s recruited into the service of the Queen’s spymaster, where his astral abilities help him to predict and thwart future plots against the realm.

But in 1588, the Spanish Armada threatens England’s shores.
So how could the fledgling navy of a small, misty isle on the edge of mainland Europe repulse the greatest fleet in the world?

Was the Queen right when she claimed it was divine intervention, saying, ‘He blew with His winds, and they were scattered!’?

Or was it an entirely different intervention – the extraordinary conjunction of coincidences that Nelan’s astral powers brought to bear on that fateful Midnight of Eights?

Reviews

“I absolutely adore Newland’s writing style. It flows so naturally, even though the story is set in such a different time period.”

“The Midnight of Eights is a captivating and beautifully written novel. It’s perfect for anyone who loves historical fiction, especially if you’re intrigued by astrology and the Renaissance era.”

“This was a very enjoyable read, and again, the author has done a great job in weaving an exciting, fast-paced tale full of interesting, well fleshed out, believable characters.”

Buy Links

Universal Buy Link: https://mybook.to/TheMidnightofEights

Author Website (where buyer can enter a dedication): https://www.justinnewland.com/the-midnight-of-eights~193

Wordery (for free UK delivery): https://wordery.com/the-midnight-of-eights-justin-newland-9781835740330

Barnes and Noble (US): https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-midnight-of-eights-justin-newland/1146325263?ean=2940185990643

Waterstones (UK): https://www.waterstones.com/book/the-midnight-of-eights/justin-newland/9781835740330

Kobo (International): https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/the-midnight-of-eights

Saxo (DK): https://www.saxo.com/dk/the-midnight-of-eights_bog_9781835740330

The Book Details

Book Title: The Midnight of Eights

Series: The Island of Angels (This is book 2 of 2. The first book is called The Mark of the Salamander. Book 2 is written as a stand-alone, or can be read after reading book 1.)

Author: Justin Newland

Publication Date: 28^th October 2024

Publisher: The Book Guild

Page Length: 288

Genre: Historical Fiction

Excerpt from The Midnight of Eights

Chapter 2: Eleanor’s Cross

The village of Mortlake, near London, England

15^th October 1580

It was a matter of love. Because love mattered. Love was the glue, the inspiration, the grit in the oyster that had eased him through the tough times on the long voyage across the oceans of the world. He’d find his beloved Eleanor, marry her and make her his own. And he knew exactly where she’d be waiting for him.

After the exhausting interview with Walsingham, he bedded down in a large barn, a resting place for the many riders that buzzed around the manor at all times of the day and night. The Lisbon messenger lay stretched out on his bed of straw, snorting like a pig. Nelan bemoaned his own fate. He’d endured three years of mariners’ snoring in the close confines of the forecastle, and the one thing he looked forward to on his return to England’s shores was a quiet night’s sleep.

The first sliver of dawn crept under the barn door as he emerged into the new day. He headed off to catch the Putney ferry. Even without the salamander pendant, he had sufficient funds from his share of the bounty from the voyage to buy a horse and carriage. But he relished the simple act of walking on terra firma as a free man, well, almost a free man. Across the river, he broke his fast at an inn on the Bath Road with some hot chestnuts washed down with cold beer. Well satisfied, he headed into London. By the time he reached the city gates, the wings of dusk were spreading over the day.

In White Hall, a trio of watchmen kept a wary eye for suspicious activity and especially for evidence of fire. One of them pulled an empty hand cart, a scraggy dog keeping him company. While the second lit a lantern with a flaming torch, the third banged on the rickety door of a hovel. When no one answered, he daubed a red cross on the door. The lantern man stared at Nelan’s fine cloth with a frown of envy. The trio acted as if they feared something they could neither speak of nor see.

Nelan worried about Eleanor. Only a few weeks ago, they’d met on the quay at Plymouth. The moment flashed before him. For a few blissful seconds, he’d held her in his arms. Then, Pedro had appeared out of the crowd. The Spaniard had taunted him by revealing that he’d set fire to his house in Mortlake, and so was responsible for his father’s murder. The madman sought vengeance for his brother Guillermo’s death. Then Pedro had knocked him out. When he’d come round, Pedro was gone, and so was Eleanor.

Now he hoped to reunite with her at the Cross. Nearly three years ago, this was where he’d asked for her hand. His heart raced. Perhaps she was there, as expectant to see him as he was to see her. That would be a miracle and a blessing.

But she wasn’t there. Though the other Eleanor was – her name, Eleanor of Castile, the wife of King Edward I. While on a tour of England, the Queen had died. At each place where the bier had rested for the night on the return journey to London, Edward had erected a memorial or charing cross. Of the twelve stops, this one was the last.

A simple, elegant cross crowned the top of the tall pillar. This was Queen Eleanor’s Cross, also known as Charing Cross. Its intricate stonework had weathered, though the mark of it remained. Nelan recited the poem of his love for her.

I can’t ask for more,

Dear Eleanor, Eleanor.

It’s you I ad-ore,

Eleanor, Elean-or.

They should have been married by now, chasing after a couple of boisterous children. They’d missed three years of blithe, innocent happiness. He shunted the regret to the back of his mind.

At the base of the Cross was a wreath of holly with bright red berries and shiny green leaves, interlaced with spiral threads of ivy. It was mid-October, too early for a Christ Mass offering. A sodden, hand-sized canvas bag dropped out of the wreath. Inside it, he felt something small, metallic and round.

It was a ring. The ring.

With his heart thumping against his chest, he opened the pouch. Sure enough, inside it was the metal ring he’d given to her on the day of their betrothal. She’d left it as a message, which told him that she’d returned safely from Plymouth. He’d hoped to find her at the Cross, but this was the next best thing. One day, man and woman, they would be the holly and the ivy, the eternal and the now, forever tied together in a dance of sympathies.

In the pouch, he found a wet, crumpled piece of paper on which the ink had run. Eleanor could neither read nor write, but from what he could make out from the smudges, it was a map. In the corner was a cross, like Eleanor’s Cross. It was her mark. The map would show him where she was going.

But when he tried to open the paper, it disintegrated. His initial enthusiasm drained out of him like sea water through a leaky hull. Clutching the wreath, he fell to his knees. His heart sank into the same deep hole as his hopes and dreams. Once a shrine to their union, now the Cross was a memorial to their lost love. But she had left him a sign.

Eleanor Pead, tell me, where are you?

The darkness fell from the night sky like lead pellets, and with it arose the sounds of the drunks singing and yelling. When they finally staggered out of the inns and into the alleys, cutpurses and thieves preyed on them like maggots on pieces of dead meat.

The church bells tolled slowly, languid at this late hour. The lanterns flickered with the chill of the north wind, and their flames whispered to him and spoke of the trials and tribulations they had witnessed. A dog raced down the alley, snarling and barking at him like he had the pox. The hound was followed by the trio of watchmen he’d seen earlier, their cart trundling along the cobblestones. This time, all three of them pulled it. The smell emanating from it was putrid, because it was loaded to the gills with dead bodies.

“Get thee gone from here, lad,” one of them growled at him.

“Why’s that?”

“Aye, you seen us daub the red cross on the door. The plague’s returned!”

He turned and fled. Eleanor would have done the same, hence the haste of her message. He hoped that she, and her companion, Alexander, his old fire man friend, had escaped its fatal embrace.

He had to find her. During the three years at sea, he’d learned how to wear the shoes that never wore out and travel the mysterious realms of the astral world. Touching the ring, he brushed the holly across his palm to conjure a clue as to her whereabouts. At first, nothing came. When he tried again, there appeared in his mind’s eye a tiny azure flame that grew into a clear blue light. Alongside it, he heard the tinkle of running water.

Dear Lord, the vision pointed to a place. She was near a stream or a river and nearby a flame. Fire and water linked them. With these clues to her whereabouts, he murmured a prayer of thanksgiving to the flames and the waves. But where was this place? He guessed she’d go south, so he headed for old London Bridge.

About the Author

Justin Newland’s novels represent an innovative blend of genres from historical adventure to supernatural thriller and magical realism.

Undeterred by the award of a Maths Doctorate, he conceived his debut novel, The Genes of Isis (ISBN 9781789014860, Matador, 2018), an epic fantasy set under Ancient Egyptian skies.

His second book, The Old Dragon’s Head (ISBN 9781789015829, Matador, 2018), and is set in Ming Dynasty China in the shadows of the Great Wall.

Set during the Great Enlightenment, The Coronation (ISBN 9781838591885, Matador, 2019)speculates on the genesis of the most important event in the modern world – the Industrial Revolution.

The Abdication (ISBN 9781800463950, Matador, 2021) is a mystery thriller in which a young woman confronts her faith in a higher purpose and what it means to abdicate that faith.

The Mark of the Salamander (ISBN 9781915853271, Book Guild, 2023), is the first in a two-book series, The Island of Angels. Set in the Elizabethan era, it tells the epic tale of England’s coming of age.

The latest is The Midnight of Eights (ISBN 9781835740 330, Book Guild, 2024), the second in The Island of Angels series, which charts the uncanny coincidences of time and tide that culminated in the repulse of the Spanish Armada.

His work in progress is The Spirit of the Times which explores the events of the 14^th Century featuring an unlikely cast of the Silk Road, Genghis Khan, the Black Plague, and a nursery rhyme that begins ‘Ring a-ring a-roses’.

Author, speaker and broadcaster, Justin gives talks to historical associations and libraries, appears on LitFest panels, and enjoys giving radio interviews. He lives with his partner in plain sight of the Mendip Hills in Somerset, England.