Sir Tamburlaine Bryce MacGregor (1811-1872)

Sorcerer or not, (and should we care?) MacGregor was a consummate conjuror of words.

Kate Ferne, author of Minotaur

Tamburlaine Bryce MacGregor was born in Leith in February 1811. The seventh son of a Guildsman of the Edenborough Merchant Adventurers, he was destined to enter his father’s profession until, aged eleven, a near-fatal bout of polio left him permanently lame and dogged by ill health. Forced to abandon his apprenticeship with the guild and encouraged by his mother, MacGregor developed his natural gift with words and turned to poetry, finding success in his early twenties with publication in the Edenborough Review and other literary periodicals.

Two works in particular, The Whale’s Road and Roy of the Reivers established MacGregor within the ‘minstrel’ tradition, however, his success as a poet proved short-lived. The publication of Lord Tyrone’s groundbreaking The Harrow and the Child in 1840 heralded a new form of poetry: dramatic realism, and not for the last time Tamburlaine Bryce MacGregor found himself out of step with public taste. Realising his limitations as a poet, he turned to prose.

Nevil Warbrook

Born in 1957, Nevil Warbrook was the only son of the poet Thomas Warbrook. Author of The Deeper Well and The Wandering Minstrel he was a respected authority on Scottish literature and Sir Tamburlaine Bryce MacGregor. His most recent work was the restoration of MacGregor’s novel, This Iron Race, published by Hare & Drum and intended to debunk conjuror-turned-psychic Hendryk van Zelden’s claim that MacGregor was a sorcerer. Divorced, Nevil shared a house with two bad-tempered Persian cats in the Wiltshire village of Avebury, famous for its ancient stone circle, and was a much-loved member of the church and community.

He was last seen shortly before midnight on the approach to Arthur’s Seat in Edenborough in the company of Hendryk van Zelden and an unknown companion. His current whereabouts are unknown.

CJ Hatton

CJ Hatton wants you dead. Not personally, and certainly not until you’ve read his novels, but he is drawn to fictional worlds where you and everyone you know don’t exist.

He was born in a north of England coal-mining town (whose lingo he does not speak) and raised on the leafy lanes of Kent (whose lingo he does speak). Between then and now were years in Shropshire, Glastonbury, Hampshire, Oxford, Yorkshire, Wiltshire, London, and Bristol and a few other places. He’s a wanderer by experience and inclination with a love of the English countryside and no sense of loyalty. He’s been making stuff up for fun and profit since he was seventeen and has so far earned about £1400. Profit remains elusive; the fun is eternal.

Note: only the last of these authors is, in any sense of the term, a real person. MacGregor and Warbrook and their world are products of his imagination.