Kin of Cain
630 AD and terror and winter grip the lands of Bernicia, the northernmost kingdom in the lands of the Englefolk. A monster stalks the hills, livestock and men have been found torn asunder, their bones gnawed, their flesh gorged upon. King Edwin sends his champions, Bassus and Octa, with a band of trusted men to rid the kingdom of this evil. As Bassus leads this brave war band into the northern hills, they soon question whether they are the prey or the hunted, but whatever the darkness brings it will sow the seeds of a tale that will echo down through the ages.
I enjoy a good scary story, or movie, I’m one of those people who prefer the ghost ride to the wheel at the fair, however, it would never occur to me read a tale that was both historical and horror. I really enjoyed this atmospheric ride, and I could feel the tension as though I were with the characters in the marsh.
There is little to criticise in this book, it is well written, and the characters are likeable. In Kin of Cain Harffy takes the strands of an ancient story and creates a believable plot, that, although wildly imaginative, could easily be interpreted as belonging to the supernatural, especially to a people whose everyday lives were governed by superstition. And when you read the last few pages, you think, “Wow,” that’s a clever way of linking it to the one of the most popular tales that ever came out of the Anglo-Saxon period.
I’ve not been to the northernmost parts of England where the lands of Bernicia used to lie within the boundary of Northumberland, stretching itself beyond the Hadrian’s Wall and into what is now Scotland. But it’s easy to imagine dark brooding hills, swathes of land called moors, and marshes where only the remotest scatterings of steadings dwelt. At night, you can think of wolves howling as they bay at the moon, trees clouded in mist, standing like sentinels to guide a traveller’s way across the moorlands, and in the marshes the sound of the reeds rustling as creatures make their way about their nightly business. All these wild imaginative elements add to the mysteries of this shadowy land. But despite the eeriness, one cannot help but think there is beauty in the darkness, even at night, with all its terrors.
The story of Beowulf is commonly known as the brave warrior and his fellow thegns, who come to kill the monster. In this version, Mr Harffy has created the setting in Northern England, which has a similar type of setting to that mentioned in the tale – and is where his Bernicia chronicles are set. Of course there are differences between the real version and his, but the presentation is atmospheric, sinister, tense and darkly weird. Descriptive prose, his strength, is how he hooks the reader:
They trudged onwards towards the smoke that must have risen from a hearth fire. The
promise of warmth and shelter, and perhaps fresh ale, drove them forward until the light
became too faint for them to make out where they were going.
The marsh was redolent of decay; dark and hidden scents, as of death. The warriors’ feet
and the hooves of the horses churned the quagmire. Stagnant pools bubbled at their passing.
All around the swamp sighed and whispered like a living thing.
Had I read the quote above as a blurb, there would be nothing to stop me from wanting to read this book.
Octa, one of the main characters, is the brother of the hero of Harffy’s Bernicia books, Beobrand. The latter does not appear in the tale of Kin of Cain, and Octa has but a cameo appearance in the first of the chronicles, The Serpent Sword, which Beobrand stars in. But that small part Octa plays was enough to tickle the taste for more of him. References to him are interesting, intriguing even, and I think a lot of people are glad that Octa has a story for himself.
Because this is a novella, we do not get to know Octa as well as we later come to know his brother and his friend, Bassus, but there is definitely a hero in the making. Sadly, his career was ended before it barely started, but I am hoping that we can see more of him, and what he might have been had he lived longer, in more of these short novels – or even possibly a whole novel devoted to him, and Bassus.
What I enjoyed most about this book was the way the author creates the right environment for my mind to easily conjure the visuals. I could hear, see, and smell the entire stage, from the rolling waves on the beach below the cliff, to the wind driven, plaintive cries of seagulls flying overhead. The dark sky, with its patches of blue and cloud, the aroma of the decaying pieces of flesh that the brave warriors walk unknowingly amongst in the night on their search for the monster, are as unforgettable as waking up and getting out of bed for work in the morning. If this is the type of style you like to read, a style that sucks you into the book and places you firmly within it, then this book is for you, and possibly starts a whole new genre of Anglo-Saxon horror.
I think that the author would enjoy greater success if he were to continue to write more of these types of stories and more about Octa, but who am I to say what he should write, for whatever he does, I think he will do it well, and having read the other stories in his chronicles, he is a master story-teller.