I was working on the final chapters of my new novel when I broke my ankle. It happened while I was sparring with my kickboxing instructor and managed—much to the surprise of both of us—to sweep his leg out from underneath him. My ankle remained entangled with his and when we both hit the mat, it snapped. For the next eight weeks I would be Crutches Tiger, Hidden Dragon.

Being able to laugh in a lopsided way at my misfortune could not take away from the fact that the fracture was painful, required surgery and would keep me from training for six months. My doctor—rather hard-heartedly, I thought—told me I would have a “fat ankle” for life. Worst of all was the lack of sympathy I received from family and friends. Over the years I’ve broken a little toe, cracked a nose and had my ribs bruised, but this time no-one was sorry for me.

A few uneasy thoughts had entered my own mind, as well. What was it that so attracted me to fighting? Why did I like to punch and be punched? Why, in fact, had I written a book about it? Keeper of Light and Dust deals with martial arts and the imperative of domination and submission that is hardwired into our genes. Even in my writing life, combat was the focus. What kind of person does that make me?

So there I was, foot propped up on a chair, gloomily fact-checking my book, when I stumbled across an article about a group of Afghan women who are being taught how to box. Afghan women boxing. For a moment I thought my painkillers were causing hallucinations. But then I looked at the photographs that accompanied the story…

I’ve been a veterinarian for nearly seventeen years now. Like many people who dream of such a career, I started off with a childhood love of animals. Dogs, cats, rabbits, cows—as a boy, it didn’t matter to me. Discovering the gentle, life-affirming James Herriot books helped build up a mental image of being a “doctor for animals,” as did the fact that my dad was already in the profession. Alongside my love of all creatures great and small ran a deeply rooted love of history. Don’t ask me where it came from, but I devoured any book I could find about the Romans, the Vikings, the Crusades, the Napoleonic wars, World Wars One and Two—in fact any conflict at all! I still ended up putting veterinary medicine number one on my university application form though. The main reason, from what I can remember, is that although I loved history, I couldn’t see myself as a teacher. There was certainly no concept in my mind of being a writer.

As with most people starting out on a career, my job as a veterinarian took over my life. Straight out of college, I worked in ‘mixed’ practice for nearly three years, which meant dealing with cattle, sheep, horses, dogs and cats. Stints in purely ‘small animal’ and ‘exotic’ (snakes, birds, fish) practice followed in the UK, before the need to travel struck home.

In 1997, I went on a solo trip to the Middle East, following part of the ancient Silk Road. During this trip, I visited many of the “stans,” countries which were formerly part of the USSR. In Turkmenistan, I walked the ruins of Merv, an enormous walled city which was attacked and demolished by the Mongols in the 13th Century. As I wandered through the vast site, nearly a mile square, in temperatures of more than 110 degrees Fahrenheit, what became evident was that the city’s history was far more ancient. Merv had originally been founded as Antiochia by Alexander the Great in the 4th century BCE. Furthermore, Roman prisoners of the battle of Carrhae had been taken there by their captors, the Parthians. Fascinated by this, I did some research upon my return. This confirmed what I had read in Merv, and the seeds of The Forgotten Legion were sown in my mind, and I had my first thoughts of writing a military fiction novel.