Hraban the Marcomanni has never met his father Maroboodus, exiled in far-away Rome, but this is about to change.
In the age of early Roman empire, Augustus is creating his legacy with gladius as the legions begin the arduous work of subjecting the troublesome and divided Germani tribes.
Such great, distant issues do not concern Hraban, a young man bent on becoming a spear lord, giver of rings, a warrior praised in the dark halls of his kin. He is the Raven, and son of great lords. Yet his father’s return to their burning village does not only upset plans of Rome and the scheming Germani, but those of Hraban, who finds the ancient virtues of his kin are very strained with strange morals of Maroboodus, his father.
Will Hraban find a way to survive the plots of his many enemies, serve his father and keep his honor while entire nations struggle to unite against Rome and those, who would betray the Germani?
The Oath Breaker is the first book in a new series of historical novels set in the dark lands east of Rhenus and fabulous, ancient Rome.
The book is consistently ranked at 6 to 12 k in Amazon.com. We have sold over 22 thousand books in 1.5 years, and The Oath Breaker is a star in our catalogue, with several other books in the series, that are usually between 15 to 40 k in total Amazon.com rankings. There is also a spin off series that is doing well, and stand alone books, that sell well every day. The Oath Breaker has been many times bestselling book in tough categories in Amazon.com.
Moenus River, Southern Germania (B.C 12.)
I remember the beautiful day. The air was very crisp and bright amidst snow-laden trees. Our strained, groaning long houses were half buried in the brilliant white blanket, and the docile river was nearly iced over. I was sixteen and living in the unfathomably deep, uncharted lands east of Rhenus River, south of Moenus River, like the Romans called these waters. Some called the area the Hercynian Wilds, others claimed it was called the Black Forest, and all outsiders feared these words, for spirits and the savage Germani inhabited them. For us, the natives, it was home, and the Land of the Rivers. We had many names for the various god-blessed streams and the greater rivers, as many as the numerous tribes living near them, but the meticulous Romans were good at labeling things, and so I shall call them by their simple Roman names.
We were squatting in snow that cold day, miserable as a glutton missing a feast, waiting for my old grandfather Hulderic to arrive and appraise our battle worth by trial of the spear. I was ready, I thought. I glanced at my muscular arms, strong and large palms, and nodded in self-satisfied approval. I was stubborn as a goat and considered myself handsome and tall, a hand taller than most boys my age. The plentiful hair on top of my block-like head was unusual in our lands; dark, near black and silky with slight curls, and I loved to brag.
