Dying to be Innocent is the ninth Dai and Julia Mystery from Jane Jago and E.M. Swift-Hook. You can listen to this on YouTube.

Idibus Augustus MDCCLXXIX Anno Diocletiani

Julia Llewellyn was on her way home from the Asclepieion on Ynys Mon at last. She had been there, or thereabouts, for most of the last two months and hard as it was, she pushed down the turmoil of emotions which revolved in her stomach every time she thought about that and focused hard on the future.
 Firstly, she had endured a very difficult pregnancy from mid-term on, requiring extensive bedrest and the inevitable boredom and frustration that had meant. Despite all that, her son, Rhodri, had still been born six weeks early needing to be hailed off to an incubator. Then he was discovered to have a hole in his diaphragm requiring immediate surgery. Several sleepless nights followed with herself and her husband keeping watch over his tiny form, before he was declared on the mend. And then Julia had to wait for him to grow big enough to leave his incubator and come home…
She was glad for more than the obvious reasons. Her husband, Dai Llewellyn was a Submagistratus for the region of Demetae and Cornovii and she knew he was keeping something from her, holding back to protect her, as he would think. It was hard to pin him down in his brief visits, once home she was sure she would get to do so.
At last the great day had come and she was seated decorously in the back of a burly all-wheel being piloted by her friend and bodyguard, Edbert. If she had been an expecting sort of a woman, she would have expected Dai to be sitting beside her.  But he was conspicuous by his absence. She sighed a tiny sigh and kissed the downy head that rested on her breast.
“Not his fault.” Edbert’s unfeasibly deep voice broke gently into her reverie.
“What’s not who’s fault?” Julia kept her voice even for fear of waking Rhodri.
Edbert laughed softly. “It’s not Dai’s fault that he isn’t sitting beside you, you cross-grained little person.”
Julia found herself relaxing. “Catch a hot case did he?”
“Nope. Having refused to see or speak to Dai, or either of his Senior Investigators – Bryn or Gallus – for the best part of a month, Magistratus Sextus Catus Bestia called a meeting for this morning. Messaged just before we were setting out to fetch you.” His voice dripped sarcasm. “If I didn’t know better I’d think it was timed to cause maximum inconvenience.”
Julia sighed again. “He is such a petty man. I keep hoping things will improve. But it’s not likely.”
“Isn’t. And his attitude to ‘servants’ is beyond despicable.”
Julia held the baby carefully as she leaned forward and put her hand on his shoulder. 
“Bestia really is a piece of work, isn’t he? But he is just petty and that can’t hurt us.”
“I wouldn’t place any bets on that.”
“Me neither, honestly. But I can’t afford to think like that.”
“No. Nor you can. My bad. How is the little one standing up to the journey?”
“He’s fine. Had his prandium before we set out. Sleeping now. The medica said something to me just before you rolled up that was very comfortable. ‘Rhodri Ddu is a fighter and as tough as they come’. She says not to treat him any different to any other baby now. He’s all healed and a hundred percent fit.” One tear escaped and ran down her cheek, but it was a tear of thankfulness not sorrow. Her precious baby was well and could take his place in the nursery where he and his sister Aelwen would be in the care of the nursery maid Luned, who was as brave as a lioness and as tender as the touch of silk. All things considered, Julia thought today was a good day, even if the pinpricks from Dai’s boss were getting sharper and less disguised. She wondered if they were what was behind her beloved’s withdrawn mood.
The rest of the ride home passed in silence, save for Rhodri’s tiny snore. 
Just before they were due to turn onto the private road to the Villa Papaverus, Edbert stopped the car and screwed around in his seat to look at Julia with deep wisdom in his winter grey eyes. 
“A word of warning. There’s about half a hundred people waiting to greet you. If I was you I’d wait in the all-wheel and hand the little one off to Luned before you get out. What with dogs and in-laws, and that madwoman Domina Lavinia, it would be easy for you to take a tumble. Luned and me put our heads together and she has found a big old high-wheel baby carriage so everybody can see young Rhodri without crowding.”
For a moment, Julia didn’t know what to say and she felt her throat constricting. Edbert smiled and touched her cheek with the back of one huge hand.
“All a bit overwhelming ain’t it?”
“It is. And thank you my friend.” 
“Always got your back small stuff.”
“Always got yours, you big ape.”
With the shoals of emotion successfully navigated Edbert started the engine again.

Jane Jago and E.M. Swift-Hook.

You can keep reading by clicking here to snag a copy of Dying to be Innocent!

Glossary of Latin and Other Terms
Please note these are not always accurate translations, they are how these terms are used in Dai and Julia’s world.
Asclepieion – healing spa, hospital
Demetae and Cornovii – Wales and several English Midland counties including Shropshire
Ddu – dark, as in hair and/or skin
Domin-a/us – Ma’am/Sir. Used to superiors both in rank and social status
Magistratus – senior official with legal jurisdiction over an area
Medic-a/us – doctor
Prandium – brunch or lunch
Submagistratus – a more junior official with legal jurisdiction over an area, under the authority of a Magistratus
Villa Papaverus – Poppy House. Dai and Julia’s residence.
Ynys Mon –  or the Isle of Anglesey

The biggers must have had one hell of a party. Big came into the garden with both arms full of cardboard and bright paper. Stopping only to vomit in the herbaceous border he disappeared.
Little Frankie puzzled out the words on one of the discarded boxes.
“Fes Tiv Fa Ther Chris Mas G-Nome. Wassa G-Nome.”
“It’s a nome. The G is silent.”
Frankie stared incredulously at the oldest nome who sat on her toadstool knitting purple bedsocks.
“Is you Ranny then?”
Only the quickness of Big Bertha’s hamlike fists stopped ‘Ranny’ from hurling Frankie into the cement pond.

©jj 2021

Imagine waking up one day unable to recall who you are or where you came from – only to find you are serving a sentence as a convict conscript for crimes you have no memory of ever committing…

Vane thought for a moment. This man being considered for release would bring a huge public outcry – from both sides. It would unearth all the old arguments about human rights and the extremes of compulsory military service. Suddenly he understood why the CSF were involved and why he was being so heavily pressured to give on this.
“This is about the future of the Special Legion, isn’t it?”
Var Tyran smiled, like a teacher with a star student in the making.
“So you see,” she told him, “this way he has his chance to see what life is like on the outside – and inevitably reject it. The Coalition is seen to carry through with just policies on clemency for valorous service, even in extreme cases, which will please the more fuzzy-thinking liberal elements. But, in the end, you will get him back under your command, which will satisfy the hard minded realists. So everyone will win. It all ties up very neatly.”
“My command? Not if he re-enlists in the regular way.”
“There is evidence to suggest it may be the more extreme environment of the Special Legion is one he would seek. And as you are well aware all ex-Legionaries have the right to re-enlist with their original unit. Even the Specials.”
Vane felt his credulity stretching. No sane individual would choose to be in the Specials. Then, he reminded himself, hard as it was to accept, this was a man who had ‘grown up’ in the Legion and to whom it must therefore have some strange sense of ‘home.’ It was a very uncomfortable thought.
“And you would be happy with such an outcome?” he asked.
Var Tyran smiled with real warmth, leaning forward, her eyes bright with delight, and Vane found himself smiling back at her.
“Oh I would get to wear a feather in my cap for a while, I suppose – thanks to you.”
Vane nodded, not wanting to point out he had been speaking of her organisation not her personal feelings on the matter. In fact, he liked she took it that way.
“I wish you’d told me all this before the interview, it would have made me view things very differently.”
“So do I,” she said, settling back with an apologetic smile. “I was in a foul mood – very unprofessional of me – personal matters.” Vane waited, his silence encouraging. After a moment of hesitation, in which her cheeks paled visibly, she ploughed on: “My boyfriend left me last night.”
Vane’s second thought was that the man, whoever he might be, had to be a fool. His first was more to do with his own personal benefit.
“I am sure it must have been difficult for you to deal with,” he told her sympathetically.
She nodded and gave him a brief, tooth-press, smile
“Just so long as my boss doesn’t find out I lost it – I’d be reassigned to data crunching if she did. This is my first big break in the department.”
This, her first admission of vulnerability, made Vane feel suddenly protective.
“She won’t hear anything from me,” he promised. “Var Tyran, I – “
“Cista,” she corrected him, interrupting gently. He smiled and was distracted by the need to acknowledge a security message on his link. Then he gave her his full attention.
“Cista, I want you to know when I finished viewing the data you gave me I put through my recommendation for release. I have just now confirmed the discharge. It should all be officially cleared by the end of the day. Revid should be free to go tomorrow.”
The delight and relief in her eyes were reward enough for him.
“Then we have something to celebrate, Commodore.”
“Isvan.”
“Isvan – I propose we go eat, I know a lovely place downtown from here -” she broke off and her face showed a slight hint of colour. “Sorry, that wasn’t very professional either. I mean –“
He smiled, loving her awkwardness.
“I would be delighted to join you for a meal, Cista – in the interests of inter-agency cooperation and team-building of course.”

From Trust A Few – book one in Haruspex, the second Fortune’s Fools trilogy by E.M. Swift-Hook – which is only 0.99 to buy for a limited period.

Because life happens…

The secret of living is this:
You don’t need ecstasy and bliss,
You just need a good man
Who knows how to – and can
Do the dinner when you are half-pissed.

E.M. Swift-Hook

Tallis Steelyard: Six Men in a Boat, by Jim Webster

One step (or, more accurately, a jump) ahead of his creditors, Tallis Steelyard winds up on Baldart Twirl’s flatboat. His adventures pile up while he figures out precisely why he was run out of town.
Peopled with Jim Webster’s signature mixture of idiots, sages and oddballs this book is a joy from start to finish.
If you have enjoyed the Tallis Steelyard short stories, you’ll enjoy this full-length novel even more. The characters and storyline are more than sufficient to sustain the longer format and belly laughs abound.
Highlights for me?
An erudite mule, and the machinations of Baldart Twirl himself.
Buy it and read it.
Five shiny stars.

Jane Jago

A Boating Adventure With A Difference

When unavoidable circumstances meet with unfortunate events, as Tallis Steelyard could no doubt tell you, the only option is to run like hell.
However for Tallis that meant winding up on a flatboat being towed behind a steamer. His adventures include a contribution to opera, absconding with religious tomes, a friendly – if at times rather dangerous – rivalry with the crew of another flatboat, being the judge of a local flower show, nomad attacks, a well-educated mule and a mysterious ancient cult.
Jim Webster is one of those authors who makes me wish for a louder voice so more might hear about and discover his works. They are simply wonderful.
There is nothing quite like a Tallis Steelyard adventure. It has pathos, humour, danger and a uniquely engaging, secret, unidentifiable ingredient all of its own which Mr Webster must keep as close to his chest as Coca-Cola.
So if you have never been introduced to Tallis Steelyard before, this is a great place to meet him. If you know him well and have yet to take his boating adventure then delay no longer.
Either way, this is a wonderful book that will surely delight you.

E.M. Swift-Hook

The problem with having little legs is you keep getting left behind. Shorty was so lost he just laid back his head and howled. But missis never heard him. He sat on the cold pathway shivering in the thin rain.

Then a gruff voice spoke.

“Are you lost, little chap?”

Shorty whined. 

“Ain’t passed anybody back that way…”

He picked Shorty up and his legs moved so fast they would surely catch missis soon.

When Shorty heard her voice calling desperately, the man speeded up. 

The advantage of having little legs is that big men rescue you – and missis too…

©️jj 2020

A brutal fantasy tale of piracy, friendship, romance and revenge on the high seas…

In a surprisingly short time, the choppers reckoned the wreck to be free. Jack couldn’t hear what they had to say, but their gestures were interesting as they cajoled, or bullied, the Spanish contingent into putting their shoulders to the wreck. They must have all pushed together as the skeleton of the Santa Hosefina shot out of the clutches of the reef like a cork out of one of the bottles of fizzy wine the hidalgos so prized. The pieces of ship floated quite nicely, which was more than could be said for the mercenaries, most of whom still wore their steel breastplates. It looked as though the sailors on the reef were trying to reason with Gobby in the matter of the fate of the sinking Spaniards.
Jack mentally wished them good luck with that little project, before turning his attention to the approach of the Pink Pig. He knew he need not worry, and that Mary’s seamanship was of the highest order, and she was at the wheel herself, but he had just seen a ship tear herself apart on the unforgiving coral. He had to force himself to breathe as the Pig manoeuvred her nose into the gap. Almost before he had chance to really worry the sleek little barque was bobbing gently in the quiet water of the lagoon. The crew furled sails before ‘out oars’ was called.
As soon as she came alongside, Jack leaped aboard.
“Nice sailing love.”
Mary grinned. “A bit less dramatic than yours. Or the eeejit in charge of the galleon. What was he thinking of?”
One of the huddled sailors spoke up. “Gold. He were thinking of gold. A lot of gold.”
“That’d do it.”
Jack wandered over to where Don Esteban lay tied hand and foot and with the beginnings of a prizewinning bruise blooming on the white skin of his jaw.
“I’m glad you belted him, love, but I’m curious to know why.”
“Oh him. See the sailor over there with the bandaged leg?”
Jack nodded.
“Well. Your proud hidalgo there slashed him so he’d bleed in the water and attract the sharks. If it hadn’t been that you’re so set on killing him yourself I’d have made his face bleed and chucked him in the water as shark-bait hisself.”
“Oh he is a brave nobleman ain’t he. Do you think he’s still asleep? Or is he pretending?”
Mary’s grin grew just a bit vicious and she snapped out an order. Two of her brawny girls picked up the hogtied nobleman and carried him to the side of the boat. They tied a rope around his ankles and threw him into the sea headfirst. After a minute or so they pulled him up sufficiently so they could see his furious face. Mary looked at Jack.
“I reckon he’s awake now.”
“I reckon he is my love. Would you mind telling the girls not to hurry pulling him in. We fight an hour before sunset. Once I’ve killed his ass for him we should be able to catch the turning tide and get our ships out of this lagoon.”
“Right. Fine.”
Mary snapped a sarcastic salute and Jack retaliated by pulling her head down to his level and kissing her with embarrassing thoroughness. She came up for air with pink cheeks and slightly unfocused eyes.
“I’ll get you for that Jack Stainless,” she promised.
He grinned unrepentantly and leapt back onto his own ship.
One of Mary’s bolder girls looked at her captain and winked. “You bit off a mouthful with that one. If you ever needs a hand…”
Mary laughed and aimed a halfhearted blow. “That’n’s mine. Hands off.”
“It weren’t my hands I was thinking of.”

Jane Jago

There will be more from Bony Mary and her crew next week…

The Amazon delivery man
Plays a game whenever he can.
He hides your packages with such care
You’d never guess that they were there.
It’s not under a bucket or beside the shed,
It’s in your recycling bin, though he never said.

When you get home all tired and worn
You wish that man never was born
Out in the garden, you search with a torch
Why didn’t he leave it safe in your porch?
You look under a bucket and beside the shed,
But not the recycling bin, cos he never said.

E.M.Swift-Hook

The big man, with his little dog trotting at his heels, walked out of the Tavern quietly and without waking anyone. Which was probably just as well, Archanbor decided, as Ritter wasn’t in a good mood. He didn’t like being locked up. Outside the streets of Keran were mostly deserted and Archanbor moved with silent speed avoiding those few who were up and around.
“No point startling folks is there Ritter?” Archanbor observed as he opened up the low shed beside the workshops attached to the spaceport. The small dog seemed to agree and watched as his master rolled the heavy felt cloth back over the body of a PTV.
“Well, if he’d not locked us up I’d have offered him a fair hire price – but he doesn’t bloody deserve it now – that was so not a nice thing to do.”
“What isn’t nice, Drum?”
Archanbor spun on his heel and would have fired if Ritter hadn’t barked a sharp warning and run over to sniff at the figure standing in the door, his tail wagging happily.
“Pan? You look as beautiful as ever,” Archanbor opened his arms to offer her a hug. She didn’t move from the doorway, just stood there arms crossed all disapproving.
“You borrowing Gernie’s PTV then Drum?”
Archanbor lowered his arms sheepishly and tucked the energy snub away out of sight. He nodded.
“Oh aye. I was planning on it. Me and Ritts we need to get to Tabruth and it’s a bloody parlous long walk and swim if not.”
Pan nodded agreement.
“It would be. Not at all safe,” she agreed. “So what business do you and Ritter have in Tabruth? I hear that’s where the Overlord has his capital – you got trade with him, Drum?”
Archanbor rubbed his nose a few times and glanced down at Ritter for inspiration.
“Of a sort,” he said eventually.
Pan looked almost stern.
“You mean – your old trade? The one you promised Ritter you’d give up?”
That was so not fair. Even Ritter growled.
“What’s it bloody matter to you?” Archanbor demanded.
“To me? Not much. But to you it could matter. I know for a fact the Overlord has visitors right now and they are a bit out of your league for nowadays, Drum. I just wouldn’t want to see – see Ritter get hurt.”
Which showed what little she knew.
“If I don’t go Ritter will get hurt. And it’s not like I’m going to drop anyone. Just borrow – like I’m borrowing Tavi’s PTV. It’ll all be fine in the end.”
Pan was shaking her head.
“You go borrowing people you could wind up breaking them, Drum. You don’t want that. We’re all getting too old for it. Why don’t you come have a cup of tea with me before you go, at the least? I got a biscuit for Ritter too.”
He looked at the little dog who was standing head on one side.
“He’s not been eating biscuits recently. I think he’s off them,” Archanbor shot a worried look at Pan. “You think he might be not so well?”
She looked anywhere but at the dog, her face considering.
“He might be. If he is, taking him off out to Tabruth won’t help him get any better. Why not come have that tea and let him curl up by my fire for a few, Drum? Maybe that’ll help him some.”
Ritter barked and showed what he thought of that idea. Archanbor laughed. He wouldn’t be sorry to have some tea, it might help settle out his hangover.
“Alright, lass – and thank you.”
Pan’s domain was always a mix of the domestic and the workaday. She scooped a mug of tea for each of them from the pot and then stirred the embers of the fire to life and put a small log on to burn, before joining him and allowing a space for Ritter on the small rug before the hearth.
“A fine brew this, Pan,” Archanbor told her.”You know if you had not up and bloody married I’d be making you a proposal myself.”
“You’d be in the queue then Drum,” she said, her tone good natured. “But you know, you could always settle down here – find someone nice who’s local. You know you have a lot of friends here, people who’d be glad to see you stay. And Gernie would appreciate the help you could give – he could probably even get you on the official payroll. It would be steady for you – and Ritter, of course.”
She meant well. She always did. Heart of gold – like Gernie. He shook his head.
“Bit late for that now.”
Pan shot him a strange look, like he’d said something rude.
“It’s never too late, Drum. You just stop running, sit down, put your feet up and root in. It’s what I did. And how many other places have you got good friends? People who will look out for you?”
“I have Ritter,” Archanbor told her, smiling slightly at the little dog.
“Of course you do – and you’ll always have him. But maybe he’d like it if you settled down? No more running all over the galaxy.”
Archanbor thought about it and looked enquiringly at the little dog. Honestly, sometimes it was as if Ritter could read his thoughts.
“What you think Ritts? Should we take Auntie Pan’s advice? She’s bloody right you know.”
The small dog yawned and stretched then stood up and put his head on one side.
“What does Ritter think then?” Pan was asking, looking towards the fire.
“I’d say that looks more like he thinks we ought to be getting going,” Archanbor said, feeling just a touch regretful. It would be good to be able to sit here, drink the tea and then maybe spend the day working on mending or building something. He’d enjoyed that in the past. “Maybe when we get back. Maybe then. What you think to that Ritts?”
The wagging tail said it all.
“It might be a bit late then,” Pan said quietly. Archanbor laughed.
“Make your bloody mind up, lass. First, you’re telling me it’s never too late and then you’re saying it will be.”

From Haruspex 3: A Walking Shadow by E.M. Swift-Hook

The ball glitters
Under the lights
Glams the sham
Of disco nights
Adds glamour
To a sweaty youth
And spinning wildly
Hides the truth

©️jj