Martin Dey

"Bar Matthias: A tale of the Christ." (Did the Romans and Josephus write the New Testament?) I describe this novel as "experimental archaeology", using fiction to test an historical hypothesis. There are two or three non-fiction books that support the view that the New Testament is not the product of a grassroots Jewish movement but was instead a creation of the Romans, namely Vespasian and Titus, who subdued a Jewish revolt (66-73 C.E). The Romans had a clear track record for assimilating the Gods of conquered peoples, as they did with the Greeks and Egyptians. The argument goes that they attempted this also with the God of Israel, driven by their need to subvert and disempower the Jewish belief in the coming of a warlike messiah, who would lead the Jewish people in driving out the foreign overlords. The Romans wanted to create and substitute a new type of messiah, one who preached spiritual rebirth, as opposed to earthly violence and who famously said, "render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's". Having looted and destroyed the Jerusalem Temple the Romans possessed what survived of the Jewish scriptures, they also had the services of Josephus Bar Matthias, talented writer and expert on Jewish prophesy and Law. Accompanied by historical notes, this novel is a "drama-documentary" that imagines what may have happened if the answer is yes to the question, "Did the Romans and Josephus write the New Testament?"

"Isobel Gowdie: Alas that I should compare him to a man" is my latest novel. I lived with Isobel for many months attempting to understand her words and her world. I immersed myself in contemporary documents to engage with the religious and political doctrines that were competing for the obedience and immortal souls of ordinary seventeenth century Scots. A century of plague, civil war, regicide, the rise and fall of the Covenant and waves of witchcraft persecutions.

To express what I came to understand about Isobel's remarkable testimony, I chose to both re-create the plausible human experiences that might lie behind her fantastical words and to have my ancestor, Archie Kellas, a man with his own demons, lead a historical detective investigation. I would urge you to read this novel for chapter 41 alone (it has to be read in the context of the whole book). The match was so complete between Isobel's historically attributed words and how I imagined her expressing them that I may just have brought back to life an extraordinary moment in Scottish history. I hope I have done justice to Isobel. Only way to find out, is to read the book!

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Ewan MacKenzie Trilogy

The epic saga now has a conclusion with the publication of "The World Turned Upside Down: A Tale of a Highlander in the American Revolutionary War. Book 3 : Brandywine to Yorktown". The story of Ewan and Jenny MacKenzie which began in Scotland torn by the Jacobite Rebellion, moved to New France (now Canada) when Ewan fought with the 78th Fraser Highlanders, had a terrifying and heartbreaking descent into pontiac's war, reaches its dramatic climax as Ewan fights for his adopted country of America in the Revolutionary War. Ewan has to survive the full scale battles of Brandywine, Germantown and Monmouth Courthouse, as well as the grim winters of insufficient food and clothes at Morristown and Valley Forge. Yet his most dreadful and fear inducing days occur when the British threaten his home and family through the Invasion of Virginia, bringing within its ranks the return of Ewan's greatest enemy, Malachi Cobden.

If you have not read any of these gripping historical novels, then the opportunity presents itself now to devour the complete story. If you have read one or two, the chance to complete the journey is now at hand.

I hope you enjoy reading these unique tales, as much as I have enjoyed creating them.

If you would like to comment on my book, "No Great Mischief If They Fall" you can visit my page "Tales Of Scotland" on Facebook. You will also find some fascinating and lesser known stories from Scotland's past.

I write when s"mething inspires me. "No Great Mischief If They Fall" simply poured out of me , after I realised how close in time the Jacobite Rebellion was to the French and Indian War. The same people could have fought in both . Across the Highland Fault Line. Not between mountain and lowland but between other and part of. From the Act of Proscription 1746 to every Scotsman getting married in a kilt. Before and After. The gap between the clansmen at Culloden and the Highlanders formed in defiant squares at Waterloo seems huge, yet somewhere in between are the men of the 78th Fraser Highlanders who first bridged the divide.

Here is a poem I wrote in September 2014, just after the Scottish Independence Referendum . If you like this poem , you will probably like my book. They share an acknowledgement of complex identity . It flowed from my 19 year old son telling me how, coming home from a polling day rally, he had thrown down his "Yes" badge in disappointment , after the result was known. It expresses how I genuinely felt that same day. I did not intend the ending to be ambiguous .

"A Drunk Man Looks at a "YES" Badge"

There you lie, discarded on the ground

Your only saving grace, you didn't land face down.

Worn with such fervent prayer,

Dropped in disbelief, despair.

Saltire blue, uncomplicated white,

Three simple letters, A Claim of Right.

What will we tell our grandchildren about 2014,

When independence was more than a dream,

When a nation's destiny , was within our grasp,

A pencil's kiss, was it too much to ask ?

I recall, in the booth, a lover's frisson,

Such a simple act, to end our union.

For I have loved thee, Britannia, I cannot deny

Choristers' " Jerusalem" has brought a tear to my eye.

Born into an empire on which the sun never set,

How could I take the "Great" from Britain without regret ?

How could I do, what Hitler could not,

End the United Kingdom, betray those who fought ?

My hand trembled , as I held that pencil tight,

A choice between great loves, did not seem right.

Yet, I have sung too many of Scotland's songs,

Decried the "Parcel of Rogues" and other wrongs.

I have with William Wallace often bled,

Well, while supping a dram and in my head.

I have stood with Calgacus, Last of the Free,

Howling at the invader, " Wha Daur Meddle Wi' Me !"

I have plead with King James, not to descend Branxton Hill,

Watching, in horror, as we lose Flodden still.

Amid the sweaty crush of the schiltron , I have stood,

Defending my wee bit glen, with ancient ancestral blood.

So, when to the Feast Hall, I finally go,

How could I face my forebears and tell them, I voted "No" ?