The Wolf Queen – Book Excerpt

Happy Friday, friend! Welcome to an interview with author Marie McCurdy about her book, The Wolf Queen. When I received her review request, I reflected on how this is the first historical fiction that I have seen about the era and with a woman lead. Let’s welcome Marie and learn about the book.

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Get to know the author: Marie McCurdy

Hi Marie! Welcome to Armed with A Book. Tell me and my readers a bit about yourself!

I’ve been writing stories for as long as I can remember, but my first professional writing experience came when I served as a combat correspondent in the Marine Corps for five years. However, since telling stories was my full-time job and I was highly restricted on what I could and couldn’t write, you can imagine how burnt out I was. My creative impulses didn’t start firing again until I found my way back to fanfiction, and after that I couldn’t stop. I eventually earned a master’s degree in creative writing and started channeling my energy toward telling original stories, though it could be argued that historical fiction is just fan fiction by another name.

Since leaving the military, I’ve bounced all over the country doing basically the same job I did in the military, but with much less stress. In 2020 (and what timing that was) I landed in New Orleans and fell in love with the city. When I’m not working or writing, I volunteer with the local Veterans of Foreign Wars post, take my dog to the dog park, and try to find more unique New Orleans experiences.

What inspired you to write this book?

A (largely inaccurate, I discovered later) History Channel special highlighted Arminius and Thusnelda, and I was initially taken in by this story of epic, forbidden love against the backdrop of even more epic rebellion. A quick Google search later and I found out that there are about three or four things total written about Thusnelda in the known historical record, but what is written about her suggests a powerful woman who made her own choices. It felt so wrong to me that she was sort of shoved into a historical corner. I wanted to know her story, so I had to tell it.

How long did it take you to write this book, from the first idea to the last edit?

Five embarrassingly long years. It started as a short story, just a scene for a creative writing class, then developed organically from there. I did so many things wrong and out of order that the process seemed to stretch on forever.

What makes your story unique?

First, there are very, very few novels about this particular battle that feature Thusnelda at all, let alone offer any of her perspective. Second, I’m a combat veteran myself and I think that has allowed me to write a story about women on the battlefield from the perspective of someone who’s been there. Though my experiences are far less violent and extreme, I do know what it is to be a woman in that male-dominated environment. I know how it feels to confront some of those moral and ethical dilemmas, and to constantly question whether or not I’ve done the right thing, or if I’m even still a basically good person. At its core, The Wolf Queen is a novel about women on the battlefield.

Who would enjoy reading your book? 

My novel is a good fit for adult readers who enjoy high stakes, grand scale action and romance. The Wolf Queen is as much a love story as it is a war story. Though it lacks fantasy elements, I think it lands where fans of the Outlander novels and Sarah J. Maas meet fans of The Bronze Horseman and Last of the Amazons. It’s for fans of Vikings and Starz’s Spartacus series, with the romance of Tristan and Isolde.

What’s something you hope readers would take away from it?

I really hope readers walk away with the understanding that this isn’t a black-and-white story of good vs. evil. I hope they get a sense of how messy war is and how even the people we like and want to win can make mistakes, can choose the wrong thing, or do the right thing for the wrong reasons. These were real people, not just archetypes.

Do you have a favourite quote or scene in the book that you find yourself going back to?

Since I first started writing this story, I had this vision in my head of Arminius trying to convince Thusnelda to abandon her current betrothal. For a number of reasons, she’s terrified of this and to create distance, she says that her current betrothed will make her queen of his tribe. Arminius responds, “I would make you queen of Germania.” For reasons you have to read to understand, this is an audacious statement that follows Thusnelda throughout the novel.

What is something you have learned on your author journey so far?

I’ve learned to trust my gut more. There is so much advice out there and so, so many rules and guides on how to craft the perfect novel, I found myself drowning in it, trying to make my novel fit all these things. I was so overwhelmed with trying to make it fit beat sheets and market trends and every craft book I could get my hands on, I ended up frozen. Sometimes, I even had full panic attacks. My mom was always there to ground me and remind me I do know what I’m doing. While some advice is good, trying to turn your writing into the paragon of what we’re told is literary and marketing perfection is impossible. It doesn’t exist, because that concept of perfection changes from person to person. What matters is how you feel about the final product.

What’s the best piece of advice you have received related to writing?

Stop listening to writing advice! Don’t even listen to that! Seriously, take everything you read about writing with a massive grain of salt, and use only what works for you. Like I said before, trying to be everything everyone else says is perfection is a fast way to gum up all your gears and get stuck. Your voice is what makes your writing special.

If you could give a shout out to someone(s) who has helped in your writer journey, please feel free to mention them below!

Cait McCollum! She’s been my writing buddy since before I started this journey and her feedback, support, and friendship has truly been invaluable.

Where can readers find you on the Internet?

• www.mariemccurdy.com
• linktr.ee/mariemccurdy

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Book Excerpt from
The Wolf Queen

Something nebulous had shifted the day Ermin—no, Arminius—returned. Instinct said my life would now take a different course, and I was powerless to stop it.

My mother often said I was more landvættir than girl, an earthen spirit tragically confined to a house when my true home lay in the wilds. While my brothers played in the village, I wandered among the trees. The darkness, the mist, the crush of towering alders, beeches, and oaks never frightened me the way they did most children. My fingers traced the vines climbing the trunks and my skin cooled with dew brushed from buckthorn leaves. Where others saw evil spirits, I saw a multitude of life and opportunity. All manner of plants and animals thrived here. At every glance, well hidden clutches of flowers reached for the sun. After all my years, I still sighted new birds almost every time I entered these woods. A babbling brook was my music, its watery scent blending with soil, leaves, grasses, tree bark. Petrichor was my perfume of choice.

Sunna and Donar trotted along, the three of us nimble over the tangle of branches, mud, and dense understory. Moss and bark and moisture mingled in the air, their smell heightened in the rolling wet mist. One mistake I would not make again was wandering from the village without my dogs.

I snaked my hand out to a clutch of plump blackberries on my path. Each dog got one, though they never actually ate the berries. I chewed them slowly, one at a time, savoring their sweetness.

When I married Reimar, would he permit me this kind of freedom? I liked to think so, but I didn’t know him well enough to be confident. In truth, I took my situation for granted. For all Segestes’ faults, he allowed me this whenever I needed it. I never quite gathered why, though I liked to imagine that somewhere inside him was a father who loved his daughter. He let me dictate the course of my own days, as long as most of my days were spent in service to the Cherusci, which suited me fine. Many men kept their women on much tighter leads. Would Reimar be among them? He hadn’t scolded me, nor looked affronted by my interruption at dinner. He’d followed me outside and respected my need for space. Yes, I believed he wouldn’t keep me as though I were his personal dog.

A gap in the trees filtered sunlight to the forest floor. At least two hours had passed since I first set off, making me a healthy distance from our village. I should be close to another Cherusci village, but sticking to the wald meant I was unlikely to encounter anyone else.

Faint voices drifted through the trees and I cursed myself twice a fool. I must have wandered closer to the roads between our villages than I thought.

“It’s never going to happen,” a male voice said. He spoke our language, but his accent was unfamiliar. A Germani auxiliary?

“You are absolutely correct, Ermin,” a familiar voice answered. I’d recognize Arminius’s strange blending of our language and accent with the lilting notes of Latin anywhere. How strange to hear him calling another man by his own name. But then, Ermin wasn’t his name anymore.

With a hiss and a sharp hand gesture, both dogs dropped to their bellies. I followed the voices on light feet, careful to minimize the noise of my body traveling through brush. Sunna and Donar would remain just as I left them until I called, or if they heard me in distress.

“Watch how Varus works,” Arminius continued. The understory blocked my view, but I was close enough to hear the steady clopping of several horses. “He sets an impossible standard he knows damn well the people can’t meet. They’ll be harried and desperate by the time we come to collect. Then, in his magnanimity, we will graciously accept alternative payments; grain, livestock, men for the auxiliary, slaves.”

“But that’s what they’re already paying,” another voice answered.

Mail armor and saddles creaked with the rocking gait of their horses.

Arminius said, “Precisely, but the people will view it as a gift from a forgiving governor. He will soften them, convince them that Rome’s taxation is fair and just. Overnight, they won’t mind so much anymore.”

A chill shivered up my spine. He was right. It was Roman dissembling, manipulation. As our people softened toward the Empire’s demands, so, too, would they soften toward Rome.

The trees thinned, so I ducked behind a clump of thick, thorny holly bushes. Arminius rode ahead of six auxiliary soldiers in their chainmail shirts and mismatched tunics. His size made the massive Roman war horse he rode looked like one of our stout nags.

“You all need to pay attention, study their methods, how they think. What we are about to undertake requires all of you to be observant.” Arminius pulled his horse to a halt. “Everyone go on. I’ll catch up. I think that Greek cook is trying to kill me.”

Ermin laughed and took the lead. “C’mon lads, let’s give the man some privacy to shit his brains out.”

The others followed, laughing and tossing ribald comments to Arminius as they rode away. Once out of sight, he dismounted. First, he removed his helmet and then his scarlet cloak with the methodical precision of a man not remotely ill. He strode into the tree line a few yards ahead of me, and I tracked him until he disappeared.

He’d seen me; I knew it. I gauged his distance and direction, then pushed forward on silent, well-trained feet where he entered the woods. He wouldn’t expect this. He’d make a wide berth to circle where he thought I was and sneak up from behind. I could do the same.

The wald, what Romans called forests, fell silent. No birds called, no small animals scampered, and the distinct sounds of a food-sick man never materialized. I predicted his intent correctly. More silent steps brought me closer. He did a good enough job concealing his path, but his size and armor glinting in the dappled sunlight betrayed him. I drew my sword at the precise moment he spun and drew his own. Mine remained aloft, but he immediately dropped his weapon and his shoulders sagged.

He held his hands up in supplication. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure it was you at first, then I didn’t want you screaming and calling the men back.”

“What do you want?” I kept my body angled to his, ready to flee or fight. 

“What do I want?” His eyes widened in surprise. “I’m not the one lurking about in the woods, listening in on people’s conversations.”

“I was not lurking, you—” I bit back a useless insult. “I was out for a walk. I didn’t think it wise to announce my presence to seven soldiers, particularly after how the last lot treated me.”

“Fair enough.” His blue eyes softened. “You still wander the woods?”

I didn’t answer him. I stayed on my feet while he found a seat on a felled log, as casually as if we were two friends sharing a pleasant afternoon. He reached into a pouch on his belt and produced two shiny red apples, tossing me one and keeping the other for himself. I caught it reflexively, then sneered and dropped it. He frowned and hummed in disappointment.

“Do you have any idea,” he crunched into his fruit, “how many times over the years I followed you through these woods? It drove me mad. I’d beg my father to tell Segestes to make you stop and he just laughed at me.”

I turned away, unwilling to associate this man with the boy of my childhood. “Why?”

If my vague question confused him, he didn’t show it. “A man has a responsibility to his future bride, even if she is a reckless and annoying child. No matter how badly I wanted to take you by your little arm and march you back to your father for the punishment I was certain you needed, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. You looked happy out here.”

A fresh shiver danced across my skin. I never knew I’d had a silent guardian on my childhood adventures. When I glanced over my shoulder, Arminius the Roman officer stared back.

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” I snapped.

The pleasant haze of childhood memories dropped from his expression, replaced by the granite countenance of a hard man.

Arminius stood. He adjusted the leather bracers on his forearms and straightened his armor. “That you shared two minutes of friendly chatting with the most hated man in Germania Magna will remain a secret. I’ll go.”

Friendly chatting was hardly how I’d describe it. I knew his game. He wanted to soften me, the way he described Varus softening my people. He wanted me to see him as Ermin the Cherusci prince, though I didn’t know why.

“Wait.” I reached for one of those bracers to stop him. As soon as my fingers made contact, I jerked back as if scalded. “I mean it. Segestes has forbidden me from speaking to you. He says he will disown me if he finds out we’ve… socialized.”

I don’t know why I felt the need to justify myself to him. It’s not as though a traitor deserves an explanation.

“Why?” he asked with a smirk. “Afraid you won’t be able to resist tumbling into my arms after all these years?”

The gall of him. We stood too close to each other, but neither of us backed away. Ensconced in the tall trees, it was easy to believe we were the only two in the world.

I had to tilt my head to look him in the eye. “Hardly. He knows I don’t lie with animals. He thinks you will challenge him for the chieftainship. He thinks you’ve come back to reclaim your seat, and I’m not sure he’s wrong.”

He huffed a dry laugh. “I don’t want to be chief of the Cherusci.”

“Then what do you want?”

My stomach flipped within my belly when he only gazed at me. Heat radiated from him like a warm embrace. His eyes flickered to my lips, and he leaned as if to close the distance between us. Baduhenna help me, I couldn’t bring myself to back away. I didn’t want to back away. I wanted to taste the fire he offered, the only clear sensation I’d experienced since his return.

He abruptly stepped back and cleared his throat. I froze, mentally scrambling for all the reasons I should be outraged instead of bereft. Outrage was easier than reconciling the confused tumult of my racing heart and pulsing lips.

“We should go.” He spoke gruffly.

Again at a loss for words, I whistled for my dogs. They bounded through the brush with all the subtlety of a pack of wrestling bears.

Arminius turned to leave, but then stopped. “Thusnelda?”

“Yes?” There was no reason to whisper, yet I did.

A muscle in his jaw flexed, and the corners of his eyes wrinkled.

“I know what you think of me, what everyone thinks. I want you to know it’s not true. I was a hostage. This.” He gestured to his uniform. “It’s not what you think.”

He didn’t wait for me to reply. He left to rejoin his men and I returned to the village, telling myself over and over that our paths were unlikely to cross again.

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Interested?

Find The Wolf Queen on Goodreads, Amazon. Thanks for taking the time to join us for this interview!

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