Author:
Paul W. Feenstra is a historical fiction novelist. Meticulously researched and detailed, his character driven novels create a dramatic window into our chronicled and complex past. Born in Wellington, New Zealand, in 1959, to Dutch immigrants, Paul still commutes to Los Angeles, California, where he worked as a multiple ‘Emmy’ nominated entertainment industry professional.

Created in a similar style as acclaimed authors Bernard Cornwell and Ken Follett, ‘Falls Ende – Primus’ is a fast-paced, emotional novel that will leave you breathless. 

The small picturesque hamlet of Mellester in Devonshire, England, is home to herdsman, Godwin Read and his son, Odo. When the aging knight, Sir William Ainsley, Lord of Mellester Manor goes on a hunt for wild boar, the inexplicable happens, and Godwin makes a decision that will ultimately impact their lives and Mellester Manor for ever. 

Set during the tumultuous reign of King Henry II, in feudal England, the quiet and peace of Mellester Manor is shaken by the unexpected. For Odo, there is more at stake than just his dignity and pride because they’ve already been taken, all he has left is his life. Will Falls Ende see his downfall and disgrace and how far will one man go to protect what’s closest to his heart?

Falls Ende is more than a simple story, it’s a saga of survival against all the odds.

Falls Ende

The knight opened the door, stepped into the gloom and waited for his eyes to adjust. 


The room was fairly full. About twenty to twenty-five men nursed drinks in solitude, or drank noisily with friends. A couple of ladies chatted by themselves, a few were clinging to men, as were the two whores sitting on the laps of the two brigands he'd come to find. 


The knight slowly walked to the far side of the room towards them. Customers moved aside allowing him to pass and slowly conversation subsided. Everyone stared, and if he was uncomfortable or nervous at the attention he received, he didn't show it. 


The two brigand brothers were each busy with their guests and reluctantly removed their faces from the ample cleavage they were engrossed in. Sir Borin stopped, one hand resting on the haft of his sheathed broadsword, the other hand hooked on his belt. He said nothing. 


"Clear off," said the archer to his new fiancé.


Chapter 57