The back cover blurb–
“I’m not of your world, but I had a front-row seat to a little-known drama that nearly brought about your demise. Truth be told, I’ve been wanting to tell you about this saga for some time.
It begins before the birth of Christ, but it is a relatively short tale. There’s a good man named Quintus at the heart of it. First, he was a Roman Centurion who ended up in China, where he learned a thing or two from an old sage.
Fast forward to today, and he still walks among you, somewhat exhausted yet ready to put his life on the line. You should know that what he did through history wasn’t done for himself; it was done for you and in the face of the greatest evil known to mankind.”
Book of Bravery, by author James Burke, can now be bought online — e-book or print — through all good online book retailers, including Amazon, Goodreads, and Barnes & Noble. (If you click on any of the names just mentioned, it will take you to these online retailers.)
Below you can read some section samples from the novel.
I Create Armies (from chapter 1)
Beyond my comprehension, I have been dedicated by others to be your narrator. My grammar is woefully lacking, so forgive me in advance. For example, I sometimes have a habit of jumping from past to present tense, a product of the fact that I do not value time so much, but I know you mortals are obsessed with it, so I will do my best to oblige as such.
By way of introduction, I was made to create, to create that which destroys. Throughout history, there have been many of us who have contributed to this necessity, and I have been but one component.
There is no sentiment amongst those of us who have this purpose. Situated between Heaven and Earth, there is naught but our commitment to what we need to do. And that commitment, dear reader, is war.
For centuries, I have molded men into armies, and the army of the Romans was by far my greatest triumph. I cared for it, nurtured it. I whispered into the ears of its leaders, men such as Regillensis, Scipio, Julius Caesar, and Pompey.
They were efficient. They were brutal. They were merciless.
I advised them how to smash the likes of the Sabines, the Samnites, the Carthaginians, the Greeks, the Gauls, and many, many others. Even themselves.
But today, I will see them cast aside by the Parthians, a people who, at their peak, formed an empire wedged between the Romans and the Han Chinese.
From what I saw, they proved to be very worthy adversaries for the Romans. On an arid, dusty plain, in a place that you now understand to be a part of southeast Turkey, they served up another lesson in humility to me and my Romans. Here, seven legions were obliterated by a smaller number of Parthian warriors. Yet I could only observe…
Under a Plum Tree (from chapter 2)
After exiting the cave, Quintus quickly ignored the music; the view that greeted him took his full attention. In fact, what he saw nearly took his breath away. It consisted of a broad, lush valley and a series of majestic mountain ranges as far as the eye could see. It was even more beautiful than the Apennines of his youth.
Taking in the sight, he continued walking out onto an open terrace that was cut into the bare rock of a mountainside. The terrace’s surface was flat cobblestone, and, to put it in modern terms, it was the size of a tennis court. It was there that he also saw the source of the music.
In the middle of the terrace, an elderly Taoist ascetic played a two-string fiddle called an erhu. The Taoist was sitting on a rock under the shade of a 12-foot high non-flowering plum tree that grew defiantly out of the cobblestones.
His name is Tai.
The old man was dressed in a ragged Hanfu robe narrowly cuffed and knee-high in length. A long fine grey beard framed his mouth while his hair was tightened into a bun at the peak of his head.
After a moment of Quintus watching him, Tai ceased playing the erhu and put it aside. He looked to his visitor and then stood and offered a welcoming toothy smile. Quintus couldn’t help but be impressed that such a timeworn fellow could have such a full mouth of well-ordered white teeth.
‘Welcome to White Dragon Mountain,’ Tai said in accented Latin.
A mountain hermit in China talking Latin was the last thing Quintus was expecting…
The Visitor (from chapter 3)
The lake was chilly a foot beneath the surface, and Alba O’Malley caught her breath as the water rose above her chest. At her feet, cold mud squished between her toes until she lunged forward to swim. The 22-year-old managed to keep her head above water as she dog paddled towards the small rocky island where the gibbet stood. She paddled as fast as she could, mindful that a patrolling soldier might see her.
Earlier, from the shoreline, Alba could see that there was a human figure inside the gibbet’s cage. But the young woman knew she had to get onto the island to learn beyond doubt it was no myth that the ‘saint’ was still alive.
Twelve feet from the island, she could see the caged man was breathing. His chest sucking in and then expelling air. He was filthy, long-haired, and naked. The legend wasn’t pretty, but it was true.
With such information, Alba hoped to rally family and friends to free the saint. No longer would they allow him to remain in such an evil condition.
The crows on the gibbet ignored her as she got onto the island, and as for Quintus, his mind was so scrambled it took him several minutes to register he had a visitor. Eventually, he managed to open his eyes. Initially, he could only make out a blurry profile. Whoever it was; they began saying something and initially it was difficult to understand. It sounds like a young woman praying, Quintus thought.
A minute later, his eyes adjusted, and he saw Alba. Her head was lowered while she recited prayers. He noticed that her underclothes were soaked and muddy and how she slightly quivered. The morning sun’s rays highlighted her auburn hair.
Upon finishing her prayers, she looked at him in the cage.
What a pathetic sight I must be, he thought.
Quintus wanted to call out to her but found he couldn’t utter a single word. He could only look at her and meet her gaze. He noted her strong jawline and her warm eyes.
After several minutes the young woman softly spoke in Gaelic.
‘I’m sorry I’m unable to help you now, forgive me,’ she said. ‘But we will be back to rescue you. I promise.’
Alba then turned away and searched the shoreline for patrolling soldiers, and once confident there were none; she began her return.
Just as she reentered the water, Quintus found his voice.
‘Thank you,’ he said, but it was far too soft for her to hear.
He watched her paddle and then wade back to the shore, where she put on her jacket bodice and petticoat that were waiting for her on a rock.
Once dressed, she returned to the wall where a crudely made nine-foot ladder awaited. She climbed up it, and when she got to the top of the wall, she pulled it over with a short rope, so she could use it to get her down to the other side.
And then she was gone.
The important thing about Alba’s visit is that it gave Quintus hope. After living so long in that cage, hope in himself, others, and his mission had nearly run dry. Without hope in goodness, a human is prone to, sooner or later, smash themselves to pieces. No matter how mythical or mystical he or she may be.
Quintus now had enough hope — in himself, in the Gods and his master — but only just. Despite Alba’s good intentions, he had two more years alone on that small rocky island.
A Decision to Be Made (from chapter 4)
Quintus placed a shard of mirror on the outside window sill, so it could best capture the light of the early morning sun to help him shave. Next, he lathered soap and spread it across part of his face. After shaving off his stubble with a straight razor, he hand-scooped water from a leather bucket and splashed it across his face. Drops of water fell to the sandy Mexican ground.
With a cotton rag, he patted down his cheeks and took one last look at his reflection in the mirror. Five years since the events in Reno, he’d equally aged as much. His hairline had climbed back an inch, and there were a few wrinkles on his forehead. He now looked like a typical gringo around 40 years of age.
It was a superficial reminder of how much of what Tai had trained him for had been lost. Likewise, he now had no supernormal powers to speak of. No ability to do without food or sleep, and he certainly wasn’t able to free-float down any mountains. His limited celestial eye vision, which allowed him at times to see fairies and ethereal beings, disappeared as well. Not that the Franciscan monks who took him in were aware of these issues. To them, he was a shy, sincere character of few words. Needless to say, they were somewhat more doubtful when he first stumbled upon their mission, in a half-dead state on a half-dead horse, half a decade earlier.
Despite occasional drunkenness during his first year at the mission, in time, this man, who the Franciscans knew as Quintus Acardi, gained their trust while remaining an enigma. He did not talk of his past, nor did they enquire. They were though impressed by his knowledge of construction and use of Latin. Quickly, he became their go-to man capable of any building repair work, and in that way, he earned his keep. He was busy and often in demand.
The Franciscans had nine mission churches in the Sonoran Desert area, a few constructed during the 1600s with sun-dried mud bricks or stone. A series of repairs at one of them — a two-day ride away — was planned after that morning shave. There, Quintus would spend several weeks repairing the church’s interior and building an exterior wall.
Following his shave, he took the soapy water to a small garden at the front of the mission, where he used it to water a lemon tree. It wasn’t much, but every drop counts in the Sonoran. As the water disappeared into the soil, he heard a young squeal of laughter behind him. Three native Tohono O’odham children from the village served by the mission ran up to him, wanting his help to squash a black scorpion they had cornered in the nearby cemetery. He waved them off with a smile, he knew they were savvy enough to handle such things themselves…
Desecration (from chapter 4)
It was pitch black inside the cave, but the sound of steel hitting stone from outside could be heard. There were also muffled yells in Mandarin. Soon enough, cracks of light emerged as a pick and iron bar broke through what Quintus had built centuries earlier.
The incoming wind unsettled a layer of fine dust that covered everything inside the cavernous room. Little by little, Han Dynasty period artifacts and murals emerged.
When the cracks became the size of a small window, The Hammer and his Red Guards stopped their efforts and momentarily peered inside the cave.
The room’s largest object appeared to be a life-size sculpture of a man meditating, sitting in the lotus position. As the entering breeze cleaned the statue’s surface, they noted that it wore decayed clothing and that it had long hair and protruding fingernails.
The Hammer cleared additional stones and plaster from the wall, resulting in more light filling the cavern. It quickly became obvious to the Red Guard leader that the figure was not a statue but a living man — a Taoist sage in trance. Just as the villagers believed.
Such ways must be wiped from the earth, The Hammer thought as he put in extra effort to widen the entrance.
It didn’t take long for the Red Guards to make a gap big enough for them to enter the cave and once they were inside, they began trashing and looting the room. The Hammer approached the still Taoist — Tai in a meditative state.
‘Take everything out, including him!’ yelled The Hammer pointing at Tai.
Zhou was one of three Red Guards who dragged Tai out of the cave and onto the terrace. They unceremoniously dumped him beside the dead body of Chang, who they had clubbed to death before they began work opening the cave.
As his spiritual and physical bodies reunited, Tai slowly emerged from his deep meditative state. The three Red Guards stood over him, each unsure of what to do with this wizened remnant of the past.
The Hammer exited the cavern, pulled out his pistol, and gave it to Zhou.
‘Shoot him,’ The Hammer ordered.
The teenager hesitated.
‘Zhou! Battle with Heaven, fight with the earth, struggle with humans — therein lies endless joy!’ The Hammer shouted.
Zhou cocked the pistol, as per how he was shown how to do a week before, and then aimed it at Tai’s heart and pulled the trigger.
The shot rang out across creation.
Truthfulness, Compassion, Forbearance (from chapter 11)
During her meditation, Luo Jia managed to still her mind to the point that it was as clear as the Lake of Five Flowers. There was no emotion, no fear, no concern — just a sense of clarity sustained by a foundation built on kindness and patience.
The remarkable thing was that the 35-year-old managed this despite being one of 12 women crammed into a dark and stuffy concrete cell with no window. None of them knew if it was day or night outside, but they each took turns lying down to sleep while others sat or stood to provide space to do that. Given they were all Falun Gong practitioners, many meditated or did their standing Tai Chi-like exercises.
Like the other women, Jia wore a drab blue prison tracksuit. Aged between 20 and 45, they were all good people. None of them deserved to be locked up. Jia was a school teacher before police caught her with a banner that read ‘Truthfulness, Compassion, Forbearance is Good,’ referring to the practice’s three main principles.
Jia and 16 others had been sent to the cell from a nearby women’s prison three days earlier. Over the course of the days that followed, five of them had been taken out and never returned. The remaining attempted not to dwell on their fate, but when they understood they were in a military hospital, they couldn’t help but fear the worst. They were all aware that their fellow practitioners were targeted by the state for organ harvesting, it became widespread knowledge from 2006 onwards.
In the camps, each of them had already been forced to have medical checkups that focused on their vital ‘commercial’ organs. The details were recorded presumably to match the needs of a cash-paying recipient. A prison guard told Jia five months earlier that local Chinese recipients preferred military hospitals for an organ transplant because it was cheaper than the civilian hospitals that were targeting richer overseas clients, mainly from Japan and South Korea. There was little surprise in this information, but Jia was shocked by how casually the guard mentioned it. It upset her that her country had become so amoral and misled.
She tried not to think about such matters as she now meditated in the cell. She instead sought nothingness.
After meditating for close to an hour, Jia unfolded her legs, and as she waited for the tingly feeling in her feet to dissipate, she heard noises coming from beyond the door…
The Fence (from chapter 12)
Keeping to the shadows, Quintus and Tina ran along the side of the largest building in the northern part of the hospital facility. To their left, the fence line eventually became shared with the airfield, and at that point, they stopped. As she caught her breath, Tina noticed Quintus’ attention was fixed on both the fence and the area beyond it.
‘So, what now?’ she asked.
‘The helicopter we need is in there,’ he said, nodding at the airfield. He gauged the height of the fence and then looked at Tina, who he guessed weighed around 110 pounds. That’s manageable, he thought.
‘How are we going to get through the fence?’
‘By hopping over.’
‘What?! How?’
‘I’ll piggyback you.’
Tina had to question if she heard right.
‘Sorry, you’ll what?’
‘Trust me,’ Quintus said as he crouched for her to get onto his back.
‘Audentes fortuna iuvat,’ he said quietly.
‘What does that mean?’
‘Fortune favors the bold, in Latin.’
She still hesitated, so he gave her a subtle reminder.
‘C’mon, a deal’s a deal.’
And with that, she smirked her way through any anxiety and hopped onto his back. He then stood up straight, with her holding on.
‘Don’t let go or yell as we fly over. Everything is going to be fine,’ he said.
Fly? she thought.
With Tina securely on his back, Quintus ran a short distance and then jumped and rose in the air, and, much to her astonishment, they levitated over the fence, clearing its razor wire by a good two feet. They landed gently on the other side on the grass with the hospital behind them.
‘Stay onboard,’ he told her. ‘It’s about a quarter of a mile to those choppers I saw. It’ll be speedier if I keep carrying you.’
Before Tina could respond, Quintus began running toward where he thought the helicopters were. True to his word, he could run fast, as fast as an Olympic sprinter, in fact. It wasn’t long till the shapes of a half-dozen parked choppers emerged ahead of them out of the darkness…
Below are some illustrations that appear at the beginning of each chapter of the Book of Bravery.
