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    Tales of the Minstrel Tongue
    Tales of the Minstrel Tongue
    Tales of the Minstrel Tongue
    Ebook76 pages58 minutes

    Tales of the Minstrel Tongue

    By Narrelle M. Harris

    ()

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    About this ebook

    In Kitty and Cadaver, Kitty Carrasco, funeral parlour beautician, gets the shock of her life when the recently departed, whom she's making presentable for their funerals, all sit up in their coffins. Instinctively, she sings a song that releases them from whatever animates their corpses. Soon she joins forces with a band with a history going back to the 13th Century to discover what's raising the dead in Melbourne and fight the supernatural dangers coming for them. 

    The short stories of Tales of the Minstrel Tongue explore the history of this band and others who are born with the gift of 'the Minstrel Tongue' - the ability to wield magic through music, and so protect humanity from monsters. This magic also manifests in other creatives - dancers and crafters can also weave magic through their art and actions.

    Through this collection, you will encounter grieving gods and grieving girls, poorly summoned demons, elemental powers, and talking ravens - and those with magic in their veins and voices, who seek to put the world back into balance.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherNarrelle M. Harris
    Release dateNov 30, 2024
    ISBN9798227483607
    Tales of the Minstrel Tongue
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      Book preview

      Tales of the Minstrel Tongue - Narrelle M. Harris

      Introduction

      The concept of ‘the minstrel tongue’ is the central conceit of my novel, Kitty and Cadaver, which is about a rock and roll band that fights monsters using the magic that manifests when they sing. This particular band has its roots in the 13 th century, when a drummer and a piper join forces to survive a brutal English winter and deal with its supernatural cause.

      Through the grandfather’s axe principle, members of the music troupes and bands that follow come and go, changing their name with every new leader, but they stretch in a line from Will and Thomas in England in 1258, all the way Kitty Carrasco and her band in Melbourne in the 21st century.

      But these musicians aren’t the only ones with magic powers linked to creativity as part of the universe’s plan to balance dark forces with more positive ones. The Minstrel Tongue is most common, followed by Estampie Feet (estampie is a medieval form of dance and music). But crafters are also able to imbue their creations with magic – like the yarnworkers in ‘Stitch and Witch’. Around the world, in the Minstrelverse, are people who can maintain the balance through song and dance, craft and art, in all its forms. I aim to write more about these magicians too.

      In the meantime here are a few tales of those blessed (or cursed) with the Minstrel Tongue and its related gifts. Please enjoy them, and look for the magic in the music in your life.

      Narrelle M. Harris

      Melbourne, 2024

      Contents

      Introduction

      Hoorfrost

      Stitch and Witch

      The Blue Hour

      The Harp’s Voice

      Acknowledgements

      Hoorfrost

      London. June. 1258 .

      ‘God’s nails!’ Will swore as he trudged through the fresh fall of snow. He suspected he’d wandered off the road to the Ludgate. Surely this grove of elms was further west than he meant to be? He couldn’t see the sun, much less any shadows, to judge the time in this milky light, but it must be no later than the third hour, barely half way to noon.

      He cursed as his feet crunched down.

      God curse this winter and the famine that it brings; God pity the thousands dead for want of food. God curse the frozen Thames and the strange skies of this unspeakable winter. God curse the even stranger thing that lurks in the river’s mud.

      And triple curse this cocking snow that will not cease falling.

      When cursing didn’t help, Will tried to spell it warmer with a rhythm.

      Un-freeze, damn’d-dirt, God’s-heart, it’s-cold.

      His teeth chattered too hard for the chant to be spoken, and numb with cold as he was, it was a poor chant. The result was weak – he never could make much use of water; earth responded best to his call – but the beat of it kept his body moving, less cold than if he stood still. He’d have unslung his tabor, but the skin of it was brittle with frost. Even encased in fur gloves, his hands were stiff. At least he had boots, and the moss stuffed in the left stopped the snow leeching in through the hole and biting his heel.

      Having no lodgings, St Martin Le Grand’s curfew knell last night had forced Will to sleep beyond the city walls or risk prison. He’d sheltered in St Bartholomew’s Priory – its founder had been a minstrel, and the brothers there had given him water and a bite of what little bread they had. This morning he’d left, hoping to find some scraps.

      But the bells of St Martin le Grand hadn’t rung to herald the opening of the markets, and that was how William Hawk knew he no longer had a choice in what he did next. Whether the problem was no bell, or no markets, the silence meant this unnatural winter was deepening and a cold and hungry death was coming for them all.

      If anyone but Will knew what was causing it – that thing in the river – they weren’t doing anything. He didn’t know what to do either, but he would make his way back into the city to do it. If the church was wrong and God loved him after all, he would succeed.

      A sweet, fluting sound pierced Will’s cursing and he halted, listening.

      It was the trill of a pipe, played dancingly by a musician of rare skill. Will felt warmer just hearing it. And then his fingers ached less. Will grinned with sudden certainty. He followed the music through the woods and paused when he found its source.

      A young man knelt on the ground in a circle of bare earth, playing his pipe. The melody was intricate, dancing swiftly through flurries of notes. The melody line was strong and the notes

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