Sharon Kay Penman's Blog, page 117

Thoughts about horses and deadlines

May 9th is another slow day on the medieval history front. So here is a link to a heartwarming story about a rescue group that saves thoroughbred horses in need.
http://www.cnn.com/2013/05/03/living/... We owe horses so much; think how differently the history of mankind would have been if we’d not been able to tame horses. They truly were indispensable to the spread of civilization. Sadly, we did not repay them well. Over the centuries they have been ill-treated; I always felt regretful whenever I had to write about the deaths of horses on the battlefield. Being able to write about the Lionheart’s cherished stallion Fauvel was a rare bright spot; horses rarely were mentioned in the medieval chronicles and so I was happy to give Fauvel his time in the sun, standing in for all his brethren forgotten, ignored, or abused.
We do not know Fauvel’s fate. A minstrel’s tale a hundred years after Richard’s death had him dying at the battle of Jaffa, resulting in Saladin’s sending another horse to Richard under a flag of truce. That never happened, of course. The legend had its roots in the action of Saladin’s brother, Al-Malik al-Adil, who gave Richard two magnificent Arab stallions after the battle to honor the courage he’d displayed at Jaffa. This was a remarkable, generous gesture to make to an enemy, so it is not surprising that it would give rise to later legends and myths. But just as Saladin did not offer Richard a horse in the midst of the battle, nor did Fauvel die then. Richard had not taken any horses with him when his galleys had sailed to Jaffa’s rescue; he and his knights only had eleven horses at the second battle of Jaffa, those they’d either found in the city or captured from the Saracens.
So we do not know Fauvel’s fate. Richard would certainly have sent him home on a horse transport with his two Arab stallions. Since we do not know otherwise, my Fauvel will make it safely to his master’s domains. With so much death and sorrow hovering over the ending of Ransom, it was a small relief to offer this one glimmer of light.
So my gratitude to horse rescue groups comes in part from my reluctance to see these magnificent animals suffer and in part from my appreciation of all the human race owes them. It was sickening that the Kentucky Derby winner Ferdinand eventually ended up in a slaughter house in Japan once his owners had decided he was of no further use to them. I realize that not all agree with me, but I feel very strongly that it is as barbaric to eat horses as it would be to eat dogs or cats.
If I disappear from time to time in the coming weeks, it is simply because that accursed deadline has me cornered. I will do my best to give it the slip when I can. Most people daydream of winning the lottery or meeting star athletes, famous actors, or rock stars. I daydream of writing at my own pace, having no deadline but my own. Of course that might mean that I’d take five years to get a book done, so maybe deadlines are not entirely evil!

Game of Thrones--I am not happy

Nothing much happening on the medieval front today. So I thought I’d toss out a question for my fellow Game of Thrones addicts, for Westeros has a gritty medieval reality—apart from the dragons and dyrewolves, of course. But there are SPOILERS ahead, so read no farther if you have not already watched Sunday’s episode, The Climb. Am I the only one to be upset with them for this major deviation from the book? I hate what they are about to do to Gentry, what we are probably going to have to watch in gruesome detail next week. It does not make sense to me, either, for how would Melisande know that Gentry was Robert’s illegitimate son? He does not even know it. And hasn’t Arya endured enough already without dumping yet another tragedy upon those slender little shoulders? I am also not happy with what they did with Ros. She was not even in the books, so her fate was utterly in the hands of the HBO screen writers and I thought her fate was gratuitously sadistic. As those who’ve read Storm of Swords can testify, it is not as if we’re going to be lacking for bloodshed and violence and sheer horror in the coming episodes. On a more positive note, I loved the made-up scene between Charles Dance (Tywin Lannister) and Diana Rigg (Queen of Thorns) and I really liked the other made-up scene in which Cersei and Tyrion were commiserating with each other about the fun of being Tywin Lannister’s kids. And I thought the ending scene of Jon and Ygritte on the wall was great. But I’m going to be holding a serious grudge for Gentry and Ros.

Royal Mistress

Anne Easter Smith has a new novel coming out today, Royal Mistress, about a lady I always liked, Jane Shore. Anne will do an interview on my blog about the book later in the month. Meanwhile, here is a link to Royal Mistress. http://www.amazon.com/Royal-Mistress-...

Good deeds needed!

No historical tidbits to report on May 7th, though Koby and Rania might catch something I’ve missed. So I am focusing upon good deeds today. There is a little boy in South Jersey, age 10, who suffers from Autism. His mother says he loves to receive mail and she is asking people to send him notes, letters, or birthday cards; his birthday is May 30th. If some of you are able to do this, they can be sent to Joey Lockwood, 72 S. Chew Road, Hammonton, NJ 08037.
The next good deed is needed by my friends in Echo Rescue. Last week they attempted to transport two white shepherds to new lives, but they were unable to get enough volunteer drivers and are trying again. Nixie and Kiser are going from Knoxville, TN to Lake Arial, PA this coming weekend. The itinerary is listed below. If any of you live in the right area and could spare an hour or so, please contact Amy Lusty at amylusty@comcast.net or lustya22@yahoo.com Or you can contact me and I’ll get in touch with Amy. Most of you know that my white shepherd Tristan was transported from FL to me by 11 wonderful people; if not for them, Tristan would never have been able to spend the last 20 months of his life in a home where he learned what it was like to be loved for the first time in his life.
Passenger(s): Nixie and Kiser
Breed: White German Shepherds
Age: 6 yrs (Both are around 6 yrs)
Sex: Kiser –Male, and Nixie-Female
Neutered/Spayed? Yes, all
Size/weight: Nixie 75 lbs, Kiser 95 lbs
UTD on shots, including rabies: Yes
Overall Healthy for Nixie and Kiser - Good
Housebroken Crate Trained yes -
Do they get along with other animals? Yes
Do they get along with children? yes
Do they get along with Men? / Women? Good
Any behavior problems? Not that are known
Is a crate optional or mandatory? Optional, but good idea to tether them as we don’t know if they will try to get in the front seat or not.
If so, is a crate provided and what size is it? not provided
Items traveling with: Collar, leash, paperwork
Reason for Transport: Dogs were in shelter (have been in boarding for 2 weeks) and moving to a Foster home.

Note: these dogs are a pair and are in the same kennel in boarding, so they get along well.

Route Saturday May 11th
Meeting Spots listed are suggested only from the map. If you have a meeting spot you would like, please use it! Just make sure all parties are aware. 
Leg 1 & 2 – Knoxville TN to Bristol TN
113 miles, 2 hr
Leave at 8:45 am
Arrive at 10:45 am
*** Filled *** (Dave, thank you!)

Leg 3 – Bristol TN to Wytheville VA
70 miles, 1 hr 5 min
Leave at 11:00 am
Arrive at 12:05 pm
*** Needed ***

Meeting Spot Wytheville:–Food Lion, 1155 N 4th St #200, Wytheville, VA

Leg4b – Wytheville VA to Roanoke VA
76 miles, 1 hr 10 min
Leave at 12:20 pm
Arrive at 1:30 pm
*** Needed ***

Meeting Spot Roanoke: Days Inn, 8118 Plantation Road Roanoke, VA 24019

Leg 5b – Roanoke VA to Staunton VA
73 miles, 1 hr 10 min
Leave at 1:45 pm
Arrive at 2:55 pm
*** Needed ***

Meeting Spot Staunton: Days Inn, 372 White Hill Road Staunton, VA 24401

Leg 6b – Staunton VA to Strasburg VA (Toms Brook)
74 miles, 1 hr 10 min
Leave at 3:10 pm
Arrive at 4:20 pm
*** Needed ***

Meeting Spot: Wilco Hess Station, 1014 Mount Olive Road, Toms Brook, VA 22660

Leg 7b – Strasburg VA to Hagerstown MD
75 miles, 1 hr 20 min
Leave at 4:35 pm
Arrive at 5:55 pm
*** Needed ***

Meeting Spot Hagerstown: Café Del Sol, 1481 Salem Avenue, Hagerstown, MD 21740

Leg 8b – Hagerstown MD to Harrisburg PA
78 miles, 1 hr 20 min
Leave at 6:10 pm
Arrive at 7:30 pm
*** Needed ***

Meeting Spot Harrisburg: Quality Inn, 200 North Mountain Road Harrisburg, PA 1711

Leg 9b – Harrisburg PA to Hazelton PA
74 miles, 1 hr 10 min
Leave at 7:45 pm
Arrive at 8:55 pm
*** Needed ***

Meeting Spot Hazelton: Hampton Inn, 1 Top of 80's Road West Hazleton, PA 18202

Leg 10b - Hazelton PA to Lake Arial PA
58 miles, 1 hr 10 min
Leave at 9:10 pm
Arrive at 10:20 pm
*** Filled *** (Corette, thanks!)

Amy Lusty
Echo Dogs White Shepherd Rescue, Transport Coordinator & Foster Home
http://echodogs.org
email: amylusty@comcast.net or lustya22@yahoo.com

Nixie.jpg

High drama off the coast of Cyprus

I recently confessed that I enjoy writing battle scenes. The reason is probably obvious; writers are addicted to high drama. This is one reason why I so enjoy writing about the Plantagenets in general and the Angevins in particular. Henry and Eleanor and their Devil’s Brood led such deliciously improbable lives, lives that often sounded as if they’d been scripted by a Hollywood screenwriter. This was especially true of Coeur de Lion; the man did not seem able to cross the street without encountering danger or drama. This was especially true during his crusade.
Richard’s fleet had been scattered in a savage Good Friday storm and Joanna and Berengaria did not know where he was or even if he’d survived the storm. When their ship finally reached Cyprus, it offered no safety. Isaac, Comnenus, the self-proclaimed emperor of the island, had imprisoned the survivors of two of Richard’s ships that had run aground on the rocks, and he realized what valuable hostages Joanna and Berengaria would make. Joanna had been stalling for time, but on May 6th, 1191, Isaac’s patience ran out and he gave her an ultimatum—she and Berengaria would come ashore on the morrow or they’d be taken by force. Isaac had a vile “rep” even by medieval standards; he was hated by the Cypriots for the brutality of his rule, and it was rumored that he was secretly allied with Saladin, so the women were understandably fearful of falling into his hands. What happened next was something I would never have dared to invent, yet another example of the way life can eclipse fiction, especially when the Angevins were involved. Here is a scene from Lionheart, page 221.
* * *
A sudden shout turned all eyes toward the rigging, where a sailor had been perched all day. Straddling the mizzenmast, he leaned over so far that he seemed in danger of losing his balance. “I see a sail to the west!”
It seemed to take forever before those on deck could see it too, a large ship skimming the waves, its sails billowing out like canvas clouds. When the lookout yelled that there were two ships, excitement swept the buss, for with these reinforcements, surely they could fend off Isaac’s galleys? Men were laughing and slapping one another on the back, sailors scrambling up into the rigging to get a better view, and Joanna’s dogs began to bark, hoarsely, as if they’d forgotten how. “You see,” Berengaria said with a beatific smile. “God does hear our prayers.”
“Yes, he does,” Joanna agreed, for it would have been churlish to quibble with salvation. But she could not banish the question from her mind as she could from her lips. Where was the fleet? Where was Richard?
It happened with such suddenness that men were not sure at first that they could trust their senses. There was nothing to the west but sea and sky and those two ships tacking against the wind. And then the horizon was filled with sails, stretching as far as the eye could see. A moment of stunned disbelief gave way almost at once to pandemonium, and for the rest of their lives, there would be men who vowed they’d never experienced an emotion as overwhelming as the joy of deliverance on a May Sunday off the coast of Cyprus.
The sharp-eyed sailors spotted it first. “The Sea-Cleaver! The king’s galley!” But Richard’s women needed to see it for themselves, scarcely breathing until it came into focus, looking like a Norse long-ship, its hull as red as the sunset, its sails catching the wind, and streaming from its masthead the banner emblazoned with the royal lion of England.
Berengaria found it hard to tear her gaze away from the sight of that blessed galley. “It is like a miracle, Joanna,” she said in awe, “that he should reach us in our hour of greatest need.”
Joanna gave a shaken laugh. “Richard has always had a talent for making a dramatic entrance, but he has outdone himself with this one!”
* * *
In the following brief scene, Richard has learned that Isaac had imprisoned his men and had been seeking to take Joanna and Berengaria prisoner, too. Lionheart, page 222
* * *
Richard listened in ominous silence, then summoned Roger de Harcourt to get a firsthand account of their imprisonment. He even called Petros over to question him about what he’d seen in Amathus. And then he moved over to the gunwale, stood for a time staring at the beach and those low-riding Greek galleys. When he turned back to the other men, there was a universal sense of relief that this lethal rage was not directed at any of them.
”It takes great courage to maltreat half-drowned shipwreck survivors and to threaten defenseless women. But now we will see how Isaac likes dealing with me.”
* * *
Isaac did not like it at all.
Also, in a very unmedieval mention, I would like to thank Stephanie for letting me know that May 6th is the birthday of George Clooney. Happy Birthday, George.

A stranded starfish and a May hanging

I missed several very important historical events this past week, but fortunately my friend Koby jogged my memory. On May 3rd, 1152, Stephen’s queen, Matilda, died, and he never seems to have recovered from her loss. I liked Matilda and tried to give her a death scene she deserved. Saints, page 627.
* * *
Matilda had always envisioned time as a river, flowing forward inexorably into the future, forcing people to keep up with the current as best they could. No more, though. Time had become tidal. Lying in the shuttered dark of an unfamiliar bedchamber, she could feel it receding toward the horizon, leaving her stranded upon the shore. As a little girl in Boulogne, she’d often walked along the beach, throwing back the starfish trapped by the ebbing tide. Now, forty years later, when it was her turn to be marooned by the retreating waves, there was no one to save her as she’d saved the starfish, but she did not mourn for herself. Dying was not so terrible, for all that people feared it so. She was in God’s Hands, a feather floating on the wind, waiting to see if He would call her home.
* * *
On May 3rd, 1415, Cecily Neville was born, and she gave birth to her daughter Margaret on May 3rd, 1446—the ultimate birthday present. This happened in my own family, as my grandmother and my mother shared the same birthday, February 19th.
On May 2nd, 1194, Richard I gave Portsmouth its first charter before sailing for Normandy, never to set foot on English soil again. He seems to have been interested in making Portsmouth the base for an English navy; he showed a flair for naval warfare during his time on Crusade and he was planning to use his beloved Chateau Gaillard as a means of controlling river traffic on the Seine.
Also on May 2nd, this time in 1230, Llywelyn Fawr hanged his wife Joanna’s lover, William de Braose; he was the grandson of the woman that Joanna’s father John had starved to death. Again, who could make stuff like this up?

A bloody field by Tewesbury

May 4th, 1471 was the date of a very significant battle at Tewkesbury, during which Edward of York destroyed the last hopes of the Lancastrians and re-established his authority as the unchallenged sovereign King of England. At the risk of sounding blood-thirsty, I enjoy writing battle scenes, and the best ones are those with dramatic twists. The battles in Sunne set the bar very high for future books. At Barnet, there was the morning fog that posed such danger for Richard’s vanguard and then caused the deadly blunder when the Earl of Oxford attacked John Neville’s men in error, and Neville’s men then mistook Oxford’s Streaming Star for the Sunne of York. And at Tewkesbury, the Earl of Somerset set up a bold ambush, gambling that he would be able to destroy Edward’s center before Richard and the vanguard even knew what was happening. It did not work--because Richard responded much more quickly than they’d expected and because Somerset’s ally, Lord Wenlock, did not give Somerset the support he expected. Here are some passages from Sunne, page 354-355
* * *
When his hidden spearmen joined the struggle against Somerset, Edward at last let himself hope he might prevail. Where in Christ was Wenlock? He didn’t understand, could only thank God for the inexplicable reprieve, for the uncanny luck that had always been his. And then he thanked God for his brother, for the Yorkist vanguard was suddenly there, how he didn’t know, didn’t care, and once again he’d won, against all odds and expectations. His stallion was limping badly; he slid from the saddle, and leaning against the animal’s heaving side, he began to laugh.
* * *
In the following passage, the Earl of Somerset responds to what he sees as the treachery of Lord Wenlock, in a very dramatic fashion. No writer would dare make stuff like this up.
Sunne, Page 357
* * *
He (the young prince of Lancaster) opened his mouth, not at all sure what he meant to say, and then, like all the others, he was turning, staring at the rider coming up the hill toward the Lancastrian lines, coming at a breakneck gallop that had every man there expecting momentarily to see the animal go down, to see a foreleg snap like kindling. It stumbled once, but regained its balance, came on. He hardly recognized it as a horse, its muzzle dripping froth, eyes glazed and rolling back with fear, so streaked and smeared with blood that it was impossible to tell what color it once was, white or grey. He was staring with such horror at the horse that it was some seconds before he looked to the rider, and stunned, recognized the Duke of Somerset.
Somerset was as ghastly a sight as the horse he rode, drenched in Yorkist blood, and shouting like a madman, so incoherent that his words were lost, conveyed only a rage such as none among them had ever seen in any sane man.
Edward was frozen in the saddle. Wenlock, too, seemed incapable of moving, staring at this bloodied raving apparition as if he doubted his senses.
“Judas! Traitorous son of a Yorkist whore! Where were you when my men were being butchered?’
Wenlock suddenly seemed to recognize his peril. One hand went to his sword; he started to speak. He was never given the chance. Somerset spurred his maddened mount against Wenlock’s; the other horse reeled under the impact, stumbled to its knees.
“By Jesus, this will be the last time you do York’s dirty work!”
Even as he spoke, Somerset’s battle-axe flashed up and over. The force of the blow sliced through Wenlock’s helmet as if it were parchment; the blade buried itself in his skull. Brains, bone, and grey-white tissue were flung into the air, splattered the closest of the soldiers. Wenlock was dead before he hit the ground.
* * *
As I said, who could make stuff like this up?

No flowers for Henry Tudor

Some of you know that I am a football fan (American football, to my British and Aussie readers.) But I have always loved sports writers. They are so much fun to read, clever and sardonic and imaginative, influenced in the best possible way by Damon Runyon. My all-time favorite definition of writing came from the great sports writer, Red Smith. “Writing is easy,” he said. “You just sit down at the typewriter and open a vein.”
Anyway, here is a link to a very well-written column by Phil Sheridan, a Philadelphia Inquirer sports columnist, about Jason Collins’s courageous admission to Sports Illustrated that “I am a 34 year old NBA center. I’m black. And I’m gay.”
http://articles.philly.com/2013-05-01...

Still catching up. On April 21, 1509, Henry VII, the first Tudor king, died. No plans to send flowers. And on April 20, 1191, the French king Philippe Capet arrived at the siege of Acre. He was at a distinct disadvantage when it came to competing with that PR master, the English king. In Lionheart, I had Richard scornfully describe Philippe’s entry into Messina: “Philippe arrived last week, in a single ship if you can believe that, with all the fanfare of a merchant returning home from a day at the market.” So we can safely assume that Philippe’s Acre arrival was equally low-key. Two months later, Richard would show Philippe how it ought to be done.

I think my bronchitis must have affected my memory; well, I’d certainly rather blame it on bronchitis than advancing old age! My friend Koby has reminded me of several very dramatic and/or significant occurrences on May 2nd and 3rd, so I will try to get back later and make up for my omissions.

A judicial murder

On May 2nd, 1536, Anne Boleyn was arrested and sent to the Tower, her case one of the more convincing arguments that Tudor Justice is the ultimate oxymoron. While I did not have the intestinal fortitude to watch The Tudors, I am a huge fan of Natalie Dormer, currently stealing scenes with wild abandon in Game of Thrones, and I am sure she made a very convincing Anne.

Still catching up—On April 23rd, 1445, Henry VI wed Marguerite d’Anjou; I hope they enjoyed the wedding since they did not deprive much pleasure from the marriage. On April 23rd, 1616, a certain playwright named Shakespeare died; traditionally he is thought to have been born on April 23rd, too. The niece of an English king he’d maligned (not his fault, though; he was working from tainted sources.) also had the odd distinction of dying on her birthday. The niece was Elizabeth of York, of course, who was born and died on a February 11th. April 23rd was also the date of death of the high Irish king, Brian Boru, in 1014. I’d recently been discussing Lion of Ireland with some of my Facebook friends, and while it has been many years since I’ve read Morgan Llywelyn’s novel, I remember liking it very much. Hopefully it is still in print?

Not off to a good start

Catching up--on April 25th, 1199, Richard’s brother John was invested as Duke of Normandy in Rouen. Unfortunately it did not go well, thanks to the tom-foolery of some of John’s boon companions. We get an eye-witness account from Hugh of Avalon, the Bishop of Lincoln, who would later be canonized as a saint. Hugh did not approve of John and that comes through loud and clear in the following passage from the Life of St Hugh of Lincoln.
“Later, on the octave of Easter, at Rouen during the celebration of high mass, he (John) received the ducal insignia, the archbishop placed the lance reverently in his hand with a pennon, the customary investiture of the dukes of Normandy. He, however, hearing the bursts of applause and the childish laughter of his former youthful companions, and his attention being very little absorbed by the rite, turned round out of levity, and whilst he and they were laughing together, the lance which he was not grasping firmly enough, fell to the ground. Almost the whole assembly declared that this was a bad portent for him.”
John had already offended Hugh by interrupting a high mass, sending one of his companions three times to implore the bishop to wind up his sermon as he was hungry. The bishop’s biographer reported acidly that John “was eager to fill his belly with meat and cared not at all for the emptiness of his mind.”
April 25th was also the birthdate of Edward II in 1284 and in 1214, the French king, Louis IX, who would eventually be canonized, and—a bit out of our range—Oliver Cromwell in 1559. Here is a link to Kathryn Warner’s always interesting blog, which delves into Edward II’s reign and politics in 14th century England. http://edwardthesecond.blogspot.com/