Sharon Kay Penman's Blog, page 122

A shocking medieval murder

On March 13, 1271 occurred one of the most shocking crimes of the Middle Ages, in part because of the high birth of the killers and the victim and in part because of the scene of the murder—during Mass at the church of San Silvestro in Viterbo, Italy. It had its roots in a battle, the one at Evesham in 1265 in which Simon de Montfort was defeated and slain by Henry III’s son, Edward, who also happened to be Simon’s godson and nephew by marriage, as Simon was wed to Henry’s sister, Nell. Simon’s eldest son Harry also died at Evesham, and his third son Guy was seriously wounded, although he did eventually recover and managed to escape, where he began a new life in Italy. The second son Bran was a victim, too, of Evesham, for he’d been supposed to join his father and brothers at Evesham with reinforcements. Instead, he gave Edward an opportunity to ambush and defeat his men. By the time he got to Evsham, it was in time to see his father’s head on a pike. He later joined Guy in Italy, but he never got over Evsham, for he struggled under a double burden—grief and guilt. Here is a scene from The Reckoning, page 41-42. Guy has just learned that their first cousin Hal, Henry III’s nephew, is in Viterbo and he at once vows to avenge his father and brother’s deaths. At that moment, Bran, suffering from a monumental hangover, stumbles into the hall.
* * *
Bran paused, blinking in the surge of sunlight, looking puzzled and a little wary to see the hall in such turmoil. Grabbing Bran’s scabbard from the back of a chair, Guy strode forward, thrust it at his brother. “We’ve no time to lose, Bran. Hal is here, right here in Viterbo! I still cannot believe it, cannot believe God could be so good to us. But Christ, why could it not have been Ned?”
Bran had always believed the folklore that a sudden shock could sober a man. He discovered now that it wasn’t so. No matter how he tried to focus his thoughts, to banish the wine-fumes from his brain, he could not cut through the confusion. Drink did not numb as easily as it once had, so why now? Why now when he had such need for clear thinking? He looked at his brother, seeing not Guy but Harry, his constant, unseen companion, for who was more faithful than a ghost? Who understood better than the dead that there was no forgiveness, in this life or the next? What did Guy know of remorse, relentless and ever-present, goading a man toward madness? What did Guy know of that? And he must not ever learn!
“Guy, listen to me!” Why did his voice sound so slurred, echo so strangely in his own ears? Why could he not find the right words? “But it is Hal, not Ned. Hal. And he…he was not even at Evesham!”
He saw at once that he’d not gotten through to Guy; the look on his brother’s face was one of disbelief, not comprehension. “Why are you so set upon destroying yourself? What will it change? You cannot even say that Papa would want this, Guy, for you know he would not!”
It was a cry of desperation, honest as only a plea utterly without hope can be. But Guy reacted as if he’d been struck a physical blow. His head came up, breath hissing through clenched teeth, eyes narrowing into slits of incredulous rage.
“You dare to talk of what Papa would have wanted, you who killed him! He and Harry died because of you, because of your criminal carelessness, your God-cursed folly! Where were you when we most needed you? Camped by the lake at Kenilworth Castle, out in the open so your men could bathe, by God, so Ned could come down on you like a hawk on a pigeon! And Papa never knowing, keeping faith with you till the last. Even when we realized that Ned had used your banners as bait, we assumed you’d fought and lost, not that you’d let yourself be ambushed like some green, witless stripling, never that! Does it comfort you any, that our father went to his death still believing in you, never knowing how you’d betrayed him? I watched him die, damn you, and Harry and all the others. Not you, Bran---me! And mayhap this is why I did not die that day myself, so I could avenge our father, avenge Evesham!”
Sweat stood out on Guy’s forehead; his chest heaved as if he’d been running. He drew a deep, constricted breath, then said, more calmly, but no less contemptuously, “You can come with me or not as you choose. But is it not enough that you failed Papa at Evesham? Are you truly going to fail him at Viterbo, too?”
Bran’s throat had closed up, cutting off speech. But he had nothing to say. No denials to make. No excuses to offer. Every embittered accusation that Guy had flung at him was one already embedded in his soul, five years festering. He could not defend himself. Nor could he save himself. All he could do was what he did now—reach for the sword that Guy was holding out to him.
* * *
Hal’s death truly shocked medieval public opinion, for the de Montforts burst into the church during Mass. Guy struck down a priest who tried to interfere and stabbed his cousin as he clung to the altar. The killing is well documented; we even know what Guy said when Hal pleaded for mercy, “You shall have the mercy you showed my father and brother.” But there are several mysteries about this gory murder. Hal made no attempt to defend himself. And other than the priest, no one came to his aid even though the church was filled with men, some of them surely Hal’s own household knights. Nor did anyone attempt to stop the de Montfort brothers when they fled the scene after the killing was done.
Guy and Bran earned the unrelenting enmity of their cousin Edward for this crime. But Guy was wed to the daughter of a powerful Italian count; moreover, he’d inherited his father’s battlefield brilliance, and there was no shortage of men willing to ignore his crime in order to have him fighting on their side. In 1283, Guy was even appointed as captain-general of the papal forces in Romagna! But in 1287, he was captured during a naval battle and imprisoned in Sicily. The vast sum of eight thousand ounces of gold was offered to ransom him by his family and friends, but the ransom was refused and he died after several years in captivity; one report said that he committed suicide. It is generally believed that Edward exerted the considerable power of the English Crown to make sure he would never be released.
Bran’s day of reckoning came much sooner. He was dead, apparently of malaria, in a matter of months, after wandering the swampy wastelands of the Maremma, truly a lost soul. I’ve always felt that to him, death was a mercy, for he obviously could not live with what he’d failed to do at Evesham and what he had done at Viterbo.
The church still exists, although it is not open to the public. But there is a plaque in the piazza telling passersby what happened there on March 13, 1271. I’ve never forgotten how close the past seemed to me as I stood there, staring down at the paving stones and finding it all too easy to envision them soaked in blood.

A battlefield code of honor

General Sherman was right when he said that war is Hell. But even in war, there can be moments that ennoble. This is the story of those times when enemy soldiers were able to recognize their common humanity. The heart of it is the true account of a German fighter pilot who had a crippled B-17 in his sights in December 1943. But it has a universality that resonates down through the centuries. I found it in the chivalric code that medieval knights accorded one another. One of the reasons why the legends of the Lionheart and Saladin continue to burn so brightly is the mutual respect they showed each other. No one would claim that this code of honor is always followed. But throughout history there have been these brief flashes of light in the darkness and we need to celebrate them, for they give us hope. So read this story of Charles Brown and Franz Stigler and their brothers-in-arms in other wars, other times. I think you will find it as moving as I did. http://www.cnn.com/2013/03/09/living/...

King Richard Armitage?

I am still at Rouen with the first Richard, where a raucous Christmas celebration turns into a somber wake. Has anyone noticed how many people die in one of my novels? Not my doing, of course. But here are a few fun links about the third Richard.
http://www.heraldsun.com.au/ipad/rich...
http://www.heraldsun.com.au/news/worl...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R6Jczv...

The new Sunne cover and those amazong dolphins

Nothing on the medieval front today, at least not connected to my books. But I have some more Sunne news. I have seen the new cover for the British Sunne edition, and I love it. I can’t post it yet, but as soon as my publisher gives me the okay, I will. It was not at all what I expected, but it was love at first sight for me. Think brilliant bold colors and battles. And Macmillan will also be bringing out a new trade paperback edition of Sunne Down Under, in South Africa, and Ireland at the same time they publish the hardback version in the UK in September. But my readers in those countries and the US can still order the British book if they would like a hardcover Sunne; as many of you know, Book Depository ships worldwide free of charge.
Meanwhile here are two interesting stories, one that proves dolphins have names for one another and one about a charity that grants wishes for children in foster care.
http://www.cnn.com/2013/03/07/us/dolp...
http://www.cnn.com/2013/03/07/us/cnnh...

Game of Thrones update

Nothing medieval to report on this date, so I’m visiting the semi-medieval world of George RR Martin. For those who haven’t heard, the second season of Game of Thrones is now available for sale both in the US and the UK. We still have several weeks to refresh our memories before the start of season three, on March 31st in the US. I’m not sure if it will be broadcast simultaneously in the UK or Down Under, but I’m sure some of my readers will know.
http://www.amazon.com/Game-Thrones-Co...

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Game-Thrones-...

News about The Sunne in Splendour

I hope the Nor’easter did not cause too many problems for those of you in its path. Some scary flooding in the Jersey shore towns still recovering from Sandy, and thousands lost power, but I was one of the lucky ones.
I have been dealing with a frustrating experience this past week; Fed Ex managed to “misplace” my galley proofs. I’d often used them in the past without problems, but this turned into a nightmare, all the more so because no one bothered to contact us. We’ve been assured that they will be delivered today, a week late, but I won’t draw an easy breath until I get confirmation from my British editor. Lucky that I am not paranoid, or I might have started to wonder if we were being victimized by vengeful Tudor spirits.
I do have some good news about Sunne. I’d asked my American paperback publisher, St Martin’s Press, if it would be possible to bring out a new e-book edition of Sunne that reflects all the changes and corrections that I’ve made to the upcoming hardback edition; Macmillan is also going to bring out a new e-book at the same time. I just learned yesterday that Macmillan is willing to let St Martin’s use their Sunne files, so they will be putting out a new Sunne e-book, too, probably not until Sunne is published in the UK. And they will also incorporate these changes in any subsequent reprints of the paperback edition. I am understandably delighted about this—it is turning out to be a good year for both Richard and me. BTW, I finally was able to read that article posted earlier on Facebook by several of my readers, analyzing Richard III’s personality. I found it very interesting and I could recognize my fictional Richard in many of the conclusions they drew about the real Richard.

Lionheart's fair daughter

I hope everyone in the path of that Nor’easter comes through it safe and sound. My furnace stopped working yesterday, but it has been revived in time for the storm.
Nothing on the medieval calendar today, so I thought you all might be interested in a great castle website. It lists six famous ones, including Conwy, Dover, and the Lionheart’s “fair daughter,” Chateau Gaillard. The link is below. Be sure to check out Chateau Gaillard; click onto the Bird’s Eye View and you’ll be treated to a dramatic recreation of this remarkable citadel as it would have looked in Richard’s time. It was innovative in a number of ways, the beneficiary of all that Richard had learned in twenty-five years of constant warfare. In addition to the castle, he built a new town below at Petit Andely, damning two streams to create a protective lake between it and the older town, Grand Andely. He fortified the island of Ile d’Andely and built a palace there that became his favorite residence in the last two years of his life, built a fort on another nearby island, and a double stockade across the River Seine. To the astonishment of his contemporaries, he did all this in just two years. Perhaps the most famous story of Chateau Gaillard is the following one. Philippe was infuriated that Richard was building this stronghold on his border and boasted that he would take it “if its walls were made of iron.” When Richard heard this, he laughed and said that he would hold it “if its walls were made of butter.”
Chateau Gaillard would fall to the French king in 1204 after John failed to lift the six month siege. One of the most gruesome tragedies of the MA occurred during this siege. At first the castle had allowed the townspeople to take refuge there, but as the siege dragged on, the garrison realized they would not have enough supplies and forced some out. The French let them through the lines, but when a second group were expelled, Philippe refused to allow them to pass, and these unfortunate men, women, and children were trapped in this deadly no-man’s land between the castle and the French siege camp—without food or shelter. There were over four hundred of them, but they soon began to die. They became so desperate for food that when a baby was born to one of the women, the infant was seized and eaten. By the time Philippe relented and agreed to let them pass, the great majority of them were dead. The castle finally fell to the French in March, 2004.
Eleanor was then very ill, dying on April 1st at the venerable age of eighty. I always hoped that she never knew that Richard’s beloved castle had been lost by John to his mortal enemy. Now to see Chateau Gaillard in all its spectacular glory, click here. http://battlecastle.tv/castles?meta=c...
PS Actually something significant did happen on this date; my friend Koby reminded me that John of Gaunt was born on March 6th, 1340. He is, of course, one-half of one of the great love stories of the MA, immortalized in Anya Seton’s classic, Katherine, Katherine being the governess of his children by his first wife, his mistress after that wife’s death, and eventually his third wife.

Happy Birthday, Henry

My favorite English king was born on this date—March 5th, 1133, in the beautiful city of Le Mans, christened in its great cathedral, named Henry after his grandfather. He would prove to be a great king, but a flawed husband and father, and as he lay dying at Chinon Castle, forced to make a humiliating peace by Richard and the French king, shattered by the betrayal of the one son who had most reason to be loyal, his favorite child, John, he must have wondered how it had ever have come to that, wondered how so much bright promise could have ended so bitterly. But on his birthday, I prefer to focus on that beginning. Here are two scenes from When Christ and His Saints Slept. The first one takes place in the stables of the castle at Le Mans, where Maude had gone to demand that her unfaithful husband, the young Count of Anjou, not humiliate her while her brothers were visiting. On her way back to the hall, she became dizzy and was assisted by her cousin Stephen; hey, where would a story be without a seasoning of irony? Page 49
* * *
“I want no daughters,” she said, “not ever.”
Stephen was puzzled by her vehemence. “Matilda recently confided that she might be with child again, and if so, we both hope for a lass this time. Why would you want to deny your-self the pleasure a daughter would bring?”
“Because,” Maude said, “daughters are but pawns, utterly powerless---“
She broke off so abruptly that Stephen knew she’d had another pang. “Is it common to have these pains?”
“The midwife assured me that they come and go in the days before the birthing begins. But the ones I’ve had today have been different, in my back, and I—“ Maude’s mouth contorted, and then an alarmed expression crossed her face. “Jesu!” she cried. “My water has broken!”
Stephen jumped to his feet. “We’d best get you inside straightaway.”
“No…you go in and tell them.” Maude was looking everywhere but at Stephen’s face. “I….I will follow in a moment or so.:
“Maude, that makes no sense!” He stared at her in utter bafflement and had his answer, then, in her crimson cheeks, averted eyes, and sodden skirts. God save the lass, she was em-barrassed! “Sweet cousin, listen. You must come with me. You cannot have your baby in a stable. This is Le Mans, not Bethlehem.”
As he hoped, that won him a flicker of a smile, and she held out her hands, let him help her to her feet. “Take me in, Stephen,” she said. “I doubt you’d make a good midwife…”
* * *
The next scene is on page 52. Maude has given birth to her son, and she and Geoffrey are enjoying a rare moment of marital peace.
* * *
Maude was finding it harder and harder to stay awake, but she was not yet ready to relinquish her son, even for a few hours. “I suppose you still want to name him Fulk, after your father,” she said drowsily.
Geoffrey looked at her, then at the baby. “Well…no,” he said, and Maude’s lashes fluttered upward in surprise. “I know we’ve been quarreling over names, but I’ve changed my mind. You can name him, Maude. I think you’ve earned the right.”
Maude did, too. “Thank you,” she said, and smiled sleepily at her husband and son. The baby chose that moment to open his eyes, and startled them both by letting out a loud, piercing wail. They looked so nonplussed that the midwife and wet nurse started to laugh. And it was then that Minna opened the door and ushered Robert, Ranulf, Stephen, and Matilda into the bedchamber.
Maude was not a woman to find humor in chaos. But for once she did not care about decorum or dignity. Cradling her screaming little son, she said happily, “Come closer so you can hear over his shrieks. I want to present Henry, England’s future king.”
* * *.

When Christ and his Saints Slept, the e-book

I am so happy to report that Saints is finally available as an e-book in the UK. Sometimes I thought it would never happen.
http://www.amazon.co.uk/When-Christ-S...

Saladin, the reluctant crusader, and a Yorkist king

Some interesting medieval occurrences on this date. The great Kurdish leader, Salah al-Din, known to the West as Saladin, died in Damascus on March 4th, 1193. He’d not been ill for long and according to his friend and biographer, Baha al-Din, he’d given away so much money to the poor that they did not have enough to pay for his funeral. The man he has been linked with in the public imagination for the past 800 years, Richard Coeur de Lion, was then a prisoner in Germany. I thought you all might like to read the letter that Richard received from the Doge of Venice, informing him of his respected adversary’s death.
“To his most serene lord, Richard, by the grace of God, King of England, Duke of Normandy and Aquitaine, and Count of Anjou, Enrico Dandolo, by the same grace, Doge of Venice, Dalmatia, and Cherum, heath and sincere and duteous affection. Know ye that it has been intimated to me, from a source that can be relied upon, that Saladin, that enemy of the Christian religion, died in the first week of Lent. And one of his sons, whom he is said to have appointed heir to the whole of his dominions, is at present in Damascus, while the other one is ruling at Egypt and Alexandria. His brother is in the vicinity of Egypt with a numerous army, and the greatest dissension exists between them. Farewell.”
Saladin’s brother, al-Malik al-Adil, was far more capable than Saladin’s sons, and he would eventually rule Saladin’s domains. He was great fun to write about in Lionheart and I am looking forward to giving him more time on center stage in The Land Beyond the Sea.
Also on March 4th, 1215, King John reluctantly took the cross in order to win the support of the Pope. He never fulfilled his crusader’s vow, kept at home by a civil war in the remaining turbulent year of his reign, but I suspect that even if he’d prevailed over the rebels, he’d have found excuses not to head off to the Holy Land, just as his father did. Henry was so clever at evading his promises to go on crusade that some chroniclers thought this was why he came to such a tragic, bitter end. Henry was always more interested in what was happening in his own domains than in the Holy Land although he played an important role in the rescue of Jerusalem’s citizens. Saladin had been determined to take the city by storm to avenge the bloody massacre perpetrated by the first crusaders when they seized the city in 1101, but Balian d’Ibelin convinced him to allow them to surrender peacefully. A ransom was then set for every man, woman, and child, and much of it was paid with money that Henry had contributed to the Kingdom of Jerusalem over the years.
Also on March 4th, this time in 1461, Edward IV was acclaimed as King on England, although his bloody coronation would not occur until March 29th, when he won one of the most savage battles fought on English soil, at Towton.