Sharon Kay Penman's Blog, page 103

Dangerous Women

The Dangerous Women anthology is out! I am so looking forward to reading the stories; hope you all like mine, of course.
http://www.amazon.com/Dangerous-Women...

A queen in exile

I would like to wish all my American readers a Happy Thanksgiving and safe travels, especially for those of you in the path of the storm. I’d also like to wish a Happy Hanukkah to my Jewish friends and readers. And on this date in history in 1198, Constance de Hauteville, the Queen of Sicily and unhappy consort of Heinrich von Hohenstaufen, died at age forty-four. Constance had a remarkable, dramatic life in which she proved herself to be very courageous and just as resourceful. My first ever short story, A Queen in Exile, relates Constance’s life and will appear in George RR Martin’s anthology, Dangerous Women, due out December 3rd. Constance is also an important character in A King’s Ransom.

The sinking of the White Ship

November 25, 1120 was a date of momentous significance, for the sinking of the White Ship and the loss of Henry I’s only legitimate son set in motion events that would lead to civil war and the eventual accession to the English throne of the first king of the Plantagenet dynasty, Henry II. Imagine how different English and French history would have been if the White Ship had not gone down on that frigid November night. (Just the thought of being denied the Plantagenets to write about gives me a shiver.) Over three hundred men and women died when the White Ship struck a rock in Barfleur Harbor, most of them highborn. Here is a passage from that scene in Saints, page 22, as the only survivor, a butcher’s apprentice from Rouen who had clung to the ship’s yardarm during that long, icy night, waits to die.
* * *
When he heard the voices, muffled and distorted in the fog, Berold felt a weary wonderment that his ordeal was over, that God’s good angels were coming for him at last. But they came not in winged chariots as the priests had taught. Instead, they glided out of the fog in a small fishing craft, its hull painted yellow and black, its single sail as bright as blood.
Berold tried to yell; it emerged as a hoarse croak. But they’d already seen him, were dipping their oars into the sea. And then they were alongside, and one of the men had nimbly scrambled out onto the mast, was cutting him loose, and Berold realized that for him, salvation had come in the unlikely guise of three Breton fishermen. He had been spared to bear witness, to tell the world that the White Ship had gone down off Barfleur Point, with the loss of the English king’s son and all aboard, save only a butcher’s lad from Rouen.
* * *
The accepted story is that the crew were drunk, having shared some of the wine on board as they awaited the arrival of the young prince, William, who was carousing with friends in a wharfside tavern. But one historian later made an intriguing suggestion, speculating that it might have been murder. I tend to be very skeptical of conspiracy theories, especially when there is no way of proving them. The obvious suspect would have been the king’s nephew, Stephen, who was supposed to sail on the White Ship and changed his mind at the eleventh hour. From what we know of Stephen, though, he would not have been ruthless enough, or crafty enough, to pull off a mass murder of this magnitude.. But the historian, Victoria Chandler, had a much more interesting—and more plausible—suspect than Stephen in mind. She suggested that attention should be paid to Ranulf de Mechelin, a major character in Saints, whose checkered career indicates he would have been quite capable of such a monstrous crime and without losing a night’s sleep over the three hundred people who died when the White Ship sank. He also had a compelling motive; his uncle was a passenger on the White Ship and his death enabled Ranulf to claim the earldom of Chester. I am not convinced this was the case, but the story set forth in the the following link definitely makes interesting reading. http://www.medievalists.net/2013/05/2...
November 25th was also the date of a significant battle in the Holy Land, when in 1177, the sixteen year old Baldwin IV, known to history as the Leper King, soundly defeated Saladin at the battle of Montgisard, which I will be writing about in my next book.
And on November 25, 1487, Henry Tudor finally got around to having his wife, Elizabeth of York, crowned as his queen.

Cutest photos ever on Internet?

November 23rd is a significant day on the Yorkist calendar. On November 23rd, 1499, Perkin Warbeck was hanged for an alleged “escape” from the Tower. I personally don’t believe he was Richard of York, but many others do. And on November 23rd, 1503, the Duchess of Burgundy, Margaret of York died at age fifty-seven. Some point to her support of Perkin Warbeck as proof he was one of the Princes in the Tower, but I think Margaret would have thrown her support to any reasonably plausible pretender if she thought it would give Henry Tudor some grief. (One of the reasons why I like her so much.) Anne Easter Smith has written a novel about Margaret, Daughter of York; she definitely deserved her own book.
Many of you may already have seen these photos for they quickly went viral. Here is the link for those who missed them. They may be the cutest photos of a toddler and his puppy ever posted on the Internet. Below the photos is a link to the mother’s blog if you are interested in finding out the back story. http://twentytwowords.com/2013/11/18/...

November 22nd in history

November 22, 1428 was the birthdate of Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, better known to history as the Kingmaker. He was an interesting man and I like writing about his power struggle with his cousin Edward, whom he foolishly underestimated, but my sympathies were always with his brother John. And on November 22, 1220, Frederick II, was crowned Holy Roman Emperor; he was the only son of Richard I’s nemesis, Heinrich von Hohenstaufen, and the very courageous Constance de Hauteville, who’d invited the women of Jesi to watch her give birth in order to disprove the rumors that she was not really pregnant. Frederick was also King of Sicily, his mother’s legacy,, and King of Jerusalem through his marriage to the sad little teenage Queen of Jerusalem, whom he wed at fourteen and who died in childbirth at sixteen. (Her mother had died giving birth to her, at age twenty.)
November 22nd is also, of course, a dark day in American history, the fiftieth anniversary today of the assassination of John F. Kennedy in Dallas. Those of us old enough to remember that traumatic event will never forget where we were when we heard, just as another generation remembered where they were when the news of Pearl Harbor broke.

New William Marshal Tour

I would like to thank everyone for their expressions of sympathy for the death of my friend, Lowell. His wife, Valerie, asked me to thank you all, too.
I have some good news today. Elizabeth Chadwick is doing a second William Marshal Tour next October. The first one was a huge success; several of my friends participated and they enjoyed themselves greatly. William Marshal is one of the more interesting figures in English history and Elizabeth is the perfect person to bring his world to life, being the author of two acclaimed novels about him, The Greatest Knight and The Scarlet Lion. Here is the link to the website giving more information about the tour. http://elizabethchadwick.com/wordpres... My friend John just gave a talk to his local historical society about William, and I will ask him to post some of his photos here.
PS Sadly, they can be posted on Facebook, but not Goodreads.

The loss of a good man

I posted the other day that a good friend of mine had died and I would like to thank you all for your kind expressions of sympathy and for sharing your own stories of loss and grief. Because I spoke of him so often on Facebook and he posted here, too, many of you may feel as if you knew him, my computer guru pal, Lowell. So I am posting here something that I wrote about Lowell this weekend.
* * *
Most of us are fortunate enough to find others to love, but few of us ever meet someone who is truly memorable. I was one of the lucky ones, for my friend, Lowell LaMont, blazed his own trail with courage, humor, and determination. We lost Lowell on Friday when his battered body could no longer keep up with his indomitable spirit. I would rather remember how he lived, though, than how he died. Lowell was an original in so many ways. He was one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever known, blessed with a photographic memory and a creative brain that could think “outside the box,” He was more than my friend; he was my knight in shining armor, fending off the demons and dragons that haunted my computers over the years. He could always outwit them, finding another detour every time he hit a roadblock, and he never understood why I found his skills so remarkable. He was generous with his genius, too, often helping friends and neighbors with their computer woes. I’ve bragged about his technological expertise so often on-line that whenever I complained on Facebook about computer bad behavior, people would immediately post, “What does Lowell say?”
When he was not vanquishing Demon Spawn or outsmarting Melusine, he was probably listening to his beloved classical music. He loved all music, especially classical and opera, and could identify almost any piece after hearing just the first few notes. He also loved trains and planes; he took flying lessons at one time and would have made a fine pilot had circumstances permitted it. He loved animals, too, and they loved him in return. We called him the Goose Whisperer after he worked his magic on a flock of wild geese. Cats relied upon their feline radar to turn up on Lowell and Valerie’s porch, knowing they’d find a good home—and they always did. My dogs all adored him, even my neurotic little Chelsea, who was emotionally damaged from puppyhood and only felt safe with four people: me, my dad, my nephew, and Lowell. It took her several years to accept my nephew, but although she only saw Lowell once a year, she fell under his spell from their first meeting, and when he’d get up early to work on one of my balky computers, she would sneak in to keep him company and when he’d play music for her, she’d dance; he’d laugh and say that she was probably a Cajun dog in a past life, for that was her favorite music.
Lowell was a scientist who wed a woman whose passion was for history and languages, but their disparate interests never mattered. They raised two fine sons, Andy and Kyle, and I loved to listen as Lowell talked to me about his family—about Valerie and his boys and his brother Jim down in Florida—for his face would light up when he did. He touched so many lives in so many ways; whenever we went out to dinner, he always knew the names and histories of our servers by the time the meal was done, for he was genuinely interested in other people. He liked to tell me stories of his time in the Navy and his time in Buffalo, where he met Valerie, who was the love of his life. He was proud of his brother, Jim, for handling high-stress work as a dispatcher, marveling that Jim was always so focused, so calm in a crisis. He was, too, of course. Whenever Lyndon Johnson wanted to praise someone, he used to say that “He was a man to go to the well with.” Lowell was a man to go to the well with
* * *.

Stories with happy endings

I had a rough week, losing a dear friend, and was very much in need of some cheerful news. All three of these stories more than qualify. The city of San Francisco responded in an awesome way for a little boy who’s been fighting cancer. A brave woman drove 600 miles to rescue family and friends trapped in an area devastated by the typhoon that struck the Philippines. And a waitress, who also happened to be a former Marine, was refused a tip by customers because she was a lesbian; that may not sound like a happy story, but the aftermath was, for she has received a heartening wave of support from the restaurant and other customers.
http://www.today.com/moms/holy-batkid...

http://worldnews.nbcnews.com/_news/20...

http://www.today.com/news/waitress-de...

A Day at Dover Castle

I do intend to blog about my Richard III Tour, but I have had to put it off for a while as I fight the Deadline Dragon, who came back again as soon as the galley proofs for A King’s Ransom landed with a resounding thump on my front porch. Before I disappear into the dragon badlands again, I want to put a new blog up, for the current one is probably collecting cyberspace cobwebs by now. So here is the story of my day at Dover Castle.
After the Richard III Tour was over and I’d done what I needed to do for my British publisher in connection with the hardback publication of The Sunne in Splendour on September 12th, I had five whole days for myself. By pure chance, my friend Stephanie Churchill Ling and her husband, Steve, were visiting the UK at the same time and we were able to get together on the weekend before they flew home. On Saturday we went with my friend, Dr John Philipps, to the Globe Theatre in Southwark to see a performance of MacBeth. This Globe is a reconstruction of the original Globe theater in Shakespeare’s time, and it was such a remarkable experience to watch one of Shakespeare’s plays in a sixteenth century theatre. They even had standing room space in front of the stage for the “groundlings.” We were wimps and sat in the sheltered section, having rented cushions to soften the hard wooden benches; John has often been to the Globe and we benefited from his expertise as it was the first visit for Stephanie, Steve, and me. Here is a link to a great website offering the history of the original Globe theatre and a certain playwright from Stratford on Avon. http://www.william-shakespeare.info/w... And this site has some striking photos of the new Globe. http://www.londontown.com/LondonInfor...
On Sunday, John drove us to Dover Castle as I was eager to see the renovations that had been done since my last visit. They have set up interior chambers that look as they would have done in the time of Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine. This was one of the highpoints of my trip, for we usually have to rely upon our imaginations in order to envision a medieval bedchamber or garderobe or kitchen. At Dover, no imagination needed! I will try to post a few photos with this blog, but we’ve had trouble doing this in the past and I am not sure the problem has been resolved. However, Stephanie found this wonderful virtual tour of Dover Castle, which is almost as good as being there. http://www.english-heritage.org.uk/da... Be sure to click onto the interactive map on the left side of the page. On certain days, Henry is there to greet visitors, muttering about his troublesome wife and sons; if you click onto the great hall introduction on the interactive map, you’ll get to see a brief video of his grumbling.
I’ve been fortunate enough to pay numerous visits to Dover Castle over the years, and whenever I crossed the Channel from France, I enjoyed watching the white cliffs of Dover come into view. ( I’ve never taken the Chunnel as I am not crazy about tunnels, especially underwater ones.) I am an even bigger fan of Dover Castle now, for I kept thinking that if only I turned around fast enough, I might catch a glimpse of Eleanor’s skirts as she entered the stairwell or see Henry striding across the great hall, bellowing for his hounds and huntsmen, eager to indulge his passion for the hunt.
Castles have atmosphere, at least to me, and they are often claimed by the ghosts of the people who lived in them. At Middleham, I never think of the Kingmaker, only of Richard and Anne during the years when he was the Lord of the North. Kenilworth stirs no echoes of Simon de Montfort, for I think it belongs to Elizabeth Tudor’s great love, Robert Dudley. I can easily envision Edward I at his Conquest Castles in Wales, probably one reason why I much prefer the strongholds of the Welsh princes! When I visit Clifford’s Tower in York, I can think only of the medieval Masada, the tragedy that engulfed the city’s Jews in March, 1191. Fougeres Castle in Brittany puts me in mind of my fictional characters, Justin de Quincy and Durand de Curzon, who were entombed in its underground dungeon.
But Dover Castle never evoked the spirit of the Angevins to me—not until this last visit, looking at it through Henry, Eleanor, and John’s eyes; I don’t sense Richard’s spirit there, am not even sure if he ever visited it during the six months that he spent on English soil. The key to the kingdom, they called this awesome fortress, and getting to see it with friends on a rare sunlit day was about as good as it gets for a woman whose favorite century is the twelfth and whose favorite king is the second Henry to rule England since the Conquest.
November 16, 2013

A Day at Dover Castle

           I do intend to blog about my Richard III Tour, but I have had to put it off for a while as I fight the Deadline Dragon, who came back again as soon as the galley proofs for A King’s Ransom landed with a resounding thump on my front porch.   Before I disappear into the dragon badlands again, I want to put a new blog up, for the current one is probably collecting cyberspace cobwebs by now.  So here is the story of my day at Dover Castle.
 After the Richard III Tour was over and I’d done what I needed to do for my British publisher in connection with the hardback publication of The Sunne in Splendour on September 12th, I had five whole days for myself.    By pure chance, my friend Stephanie Churchill Ling and her husband, Steve, were visiting the UK at the same time and we were able to get together on the weekend before they flew home.  On Saturday we went with my friend, Dr John Philipps, to the Globe Theatre in Southwark to see a performance of MacBeth.  This Globe is a reconstruction of the original Globe theater in Shakespeare’s time, and it was such a remarkable experience to watch one of Shakespeare’s plays in a sixteenth century theatre.  They even had standing room space in front of the stage for the “groundlings.”   We were wimps and sat in the sheltered section, having rented cushions to soften the hard wooden benches; John has often been to the Globe and we benefited from his expertise as it was the first visit for Stephanie, Steve, and me.   Here is a link to a great website offering the history of the original Globe theatre and a certain playwright from Stratford on Avon.  http://www.william-shakespeare.info/william-shakespeare-globe-theatre.htm   And this site has some striking photos of the new Globe. http://www.londontown.com/LondonInformation/Entertainment/Shakespeares_Globe/8f9c/imagesPage/15462/ 
 On Sunday, John drove us to Dover Castle as I was eager to see the renovations that had been done since my last visit.  They have set up interior chambers that look as they would have done in the time of Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine.   This was one of the highpoints of my trip, for we usually have to rely upon our imaginations in order to envision a medieval bedchamber or garderobe or kitchen.    At Dover, no imagination needed!   I will try to post a few photos with this blog, but we’ve had trouble doing this in the past and I am not sure the problem has been resolved.  However, Stephanie found this wonderful virtual tour of Dover Castle, which is almost as good as being there.   http://www.english-heritage.org.uk/daysout/properties/dover-castle/great-tower/virtual-tour/   Be sure to click onto the interactive map on the left side of the page.   On certain days, Henry is there to greet visitors, muttering about his troublesome wife and sons; if you click onto the great hall introduction on the interactive map, you’ll get to see a brief video of his grumbling.    
 I’ve been fortunate enough to pay numerous visits to Dover Castle over the years, and whenever I crossed the Channel from France, I enjoyed watching the white cliffs of Dover come into view. ( I’ve never taken the Chunnel as I am not crazy about tunnels, especially underwater ones.)   I am an even bigger fan of Dover Castle now, for I kept thinking that if only I turned around fast enough, I might catch a glimpse of Eleanor’s skirts as she entered the stairwell or see Henry striding across the great hall, bellowing for his hounds and huntsmen, eager to indulge his passion for the hunt.   
 Castles have atmosphere, at least to me, and they are often claimed by the ghosts of the people who lived in them.  At Middleham, I never think of the Kingmaker, only of Richard and Anne during the years when he was the Lord of the North.   Kenilworth stirs no echoes of Simon de Montfort, for I think it belongs to Elizabeth Tudor’s great love, Robert Dudley.   I can easily envision Edward I at his Conquest Castles in Wales, probably one reason why I much prefer the strongholds of the Welsh princes!  When I visit Clifford’s Tower in York, I can think only of the medieval Masada, the tragedy that engulfed the city’s Jews in March, 1191.    Fougeres Castle in Brittany puts me in mind of my fictional characters, Justin de Quincy and Durand de Curzon, who were entombed in its underground dungeon.  
But Dover Castle never evoked the spirit of the Angevins to me—not until this last visit, looking at it through Henry, Eleanor, and John’s eyes; I don’t sense Richard’s spirit there, am not even sure if he ever visited it during the six months that he spent on English soil.    The key to the kingdom, they called this awesome fortress,  and getting to see it with friends on a rare sunlit day was about as good as it gets for a woman whose favorite century is the twelfth and whose favorite king is the second Henry to rule England since the Conquest.  
November 16, 2013