Introductory Poetry:
"I hear
the Shadowy Horses, their long manes a-shake,
Their hoofs heavy with tumult, their eyes glimmering white, ...
O vanity of Sleep, Hope, Dream, endless Desire,
The Horses of Disaster plunge in the heavy clay:
Beloved, let your eyes half close, and your heart beat
Over my heart, and your hair fall over my breast,
Drowning love's lonely hour in deep twilight of rest,
And hiding their tossing manes and their tumultuous feet."
-- W. B. Yeats. He Bids His Beloved Be At Peace
"... that delirious man
Whose fancy fuses old and new,
And flashes into false and true,
And mingles all ..."
-- Tennyson, In Memoriam, XVI
Section Two: Second Horse
"That
we may lift from out of dust
A voice as unto him that hears,
A cry above the conquered years
To one that with us works ..."
-- Tennyson, In Memoriam, CXXX
Section III: Third Horse
"And hear at times a
sentinel
Who moves about from place to place,
And whispers to the worlds of space,
In the deep night, that all is well."
-- Tennyson, In Memoriam, CXXV
Section IV: Fourth Horse
"Something
it is which
thou hast lost,
Some pleasure from thine early years,"
-- Tennyson, In Memoriam, IV
Author's Note
"This book could not have
been written
without the expert advice and assistance
of my own 'field crew' of archaeologists: in Scotland, Pat Storey and
Dr.
Bill Finlayson, of the University of Edinburgh; and in Canada, Dr.
James
Barrett, and especially Heather Henderson, who guided me from the
beginning
and very kindly sieved my manuscript for errors. Many thanks."
Dedication:
"TO THE PEOPLE OF EYEMOUTH:
So many of you have had a hand in the creation of
this book, and I have spent so many hours in your
company that now your streets, your homes, your
harbour have a warm familiar feel, and I no longer
feel a stranger to your town. But I do not belong
to Eyemouth. Despite my best efforts I'm sure
there will be places in this book where you will
find I've got some detail wrong, or used a turn of
phrase that's not your own. I can only hope that
you'll forgive me any errors. And I hope that you
will all accept this novel as a gift of thanks, from
one to whom you've always shown great kindness."
"Born in Canada in 1966,
Susanna
Kearsley has been writing since the age
of seven. She read politics and international development at
university,
and has worked as a museum curator.
"Susanna Kearsley has received
international praise for a previous novel
