Book One

The Jacks River Folk Trilogy

A synopsis

The Hatchallan dynasty is gone, wiped away forever in one hideous night of the assassins twenty years ago. Or is it?

There is a danger with not doing a job yourself. How can you prevent the hired hands from trying to make a soveriegn or two under the table? The Hatchallan women are beautiful, and therefore valuable. Why would they kill them? Perhaps they sold them as courtesans instead?

Even so, the women dare not come back, for that would be certain death, and so how would the story ever get out? Stop worrying.

Then there is that other problem, hardly a problem actually. The pregnant one, tossed carelessly into the river, they said she was surely dying, but why worry about that? Even if she made it to the shoreline and then miraculously survived her wounds, there were always the cats. She could never escape the cats.

Not possible, Cantwell. Not possible.

Have you heard about that strange young man with golden hair and blue eyes -- Hatchallan hair and eyes if you ask me. They say that he makes war on the cats and lives to tell the tale.

Oh, Cantwell, bother! The Hatchallans’ are not the only ones with yellow hair and blue eyes. There has to be others out there -- many. Besides, as long as he tends to the cats and stays away from here, what do we care; he does us a favor by reducing the hazards of river travel.

But he has already been seen selling the skins at the Northport Fair just across the river. Creating quite a sensation I’ve heard.

Then have him killed, old man; ease your mind. It is as easy as that.

THE END