Sharon Kay Penman's Blog, page 129
December 27, 2012
John's real birthday
You can pick up a biography of John, even one written by a reliable scholar, and be told that he was born on December 24th, 1167. I used that birth date for some of my earlier books. But it is not accurate. John was actually born in 1166. There is a story behind this, of course, but I will have to delay it till later, for Richard is demanding that I join him in attacking the French king at Issoudun, and kings expect lowly scribes (especially female ones) to do as they’re told. So more on John after I deal with his imperious brother. There is no doubt that the 1166 date is correct. The day itself is more questionable. While Christmas Eve is the traditional date, I remain convinced John was actually born on December 27th, the feast day of John the Apostle, which would explain the first grafting of a John onto the Angevin family tree.
I hope you all are basking in the after-Christmas glow and that those under siege by Mother Nature will soon get a break, too. Safe driving, too.
I hope you all are basking in the after-Christmas glow and that those under siege by Mother Nature will soon get a break, too. Safe driving, too.
December 26, 2012
The Battle of Trenton
I hope you all had as lovely a Christmas as I did. Christmas Eve and Christmas day were wonderful, and right now I am listening to Christmas music and sipping eggnog, feeling very mellow and content before I join Richard in attacking the French king at Issoudun. (It is still Christmas as I write this; I am not starting out the morning with eggnog, honest.)
So on to tomorrow, December 26th. On that date in 1135, Stephen was crowned King of England and the period known as the Anarchy or the time when Christ and his saints slept officially began. And on December 26th, 1194, Constance de Hauteville, daughter of the great King Roger of Sicily and unhappy consort of the German emperor, Heinrich von Hohenstaufen, defied the odds by giving birth to a son, her first child, at the then-advanced age of forty, after eight years of an apparently barren marriage. Because she knew there was much skepticism about her miracle pregnancy, with many of Heinrich’s enemies (all of whom he’d earned) spreading rumors that the pregnancy was a sham and a baby would be smuggled into her birthing chamber, she invited all of the women of the Italian town of Jesi to witness her labor, giving birth to Frederick in a large tent set up in the piazza. I dramatize this in my short story that will eventually (I hope) see the light of day when the George RR Martin’s anthology Dangerous Women is published. Also on December 26th, 1776, a battle was fought in New Jersey that had tremendous consequences for the fledging American republic. Had George Washington not crossed the Delaware River and won a decisive victory over the Hessians at Trenton, it is certainly possible that the American Revolution would have had a different ending, for things were not going so well for the colonists and they were in desperate need of a morale boost, which this victory provided.
So on to tomorrow, December 26th. On that date in 1135, Stephen was crowned King of England and the period known as the Anarchy or the time when Christ and his saints slept officially began. And on December 26th, 1194, Constance de Hauteville, daughter of the great King Roger of Sicily and unhappy consort of the German emperor, Heinrich von Hohenstaufen, defied the odds by giving birth to a son, her first child, at the then-advanced age of forty, after eight years of an apparently barren marriage. Because she knew there was much skepticism about her miracle pregnancy, with many of Heinrich’s enemies (all of whom he’d earned) spreading rumors that the pregnancy was a sham and a baby would be smuggled into her birthing chamber, she invited all of the women of the Italian town of Jesi to witness her labor, giving birth to Frederick in a large tent set up in the piazza. I dramatize this in my short story that will eventually (I hope) see the light of day when the George RR Martin’s anthology Dangerous Women is published. Also on December 26th, 1776, a battle was fought in New Jersey that had tremendous consequences for the fledging American republic. Had George Washington not crossed the Delaware River and won a decisive victory over the Hessians at Trenton, it is certainly possible that the American Revolution would have had a different ending, for things were not going so well for the colonists and they were in desperate need of a morale boost, which this victory provided.
December 25, 2012
Christmas and those dysfunctional Angevins
Christmas day was a very popular one for medieval coronations. The following monarchs all began their reigns on this date.
Charlemagne became emperor on December 25th, 800 AD
William the Conqueror became England’s king in 1066
Baldwin of Boulogne became the first King of Jerusalem in 1100
Roger de Hauteville became the first King of Sicily in 1130; Roger was the father of Constance de Hauteville, who would later wed the German emperor Heinrich, and is a character in both Lionheart and A King’s Ransom.
Also on Christmas Day, 1170, Thomas Becket threw a torch into the hayrick of Henry’s Angevin temper, with devastating consequences for all concerned.
Time and Chance, page 448
* * *
On Christmas morning, Becket preached a sermon to the townspeople of Canterbury, assembled before him in the cathedral nave, based upon the text Peace on earth to men of good will. He then excommunicated again those men who had transgressed God’s Laws: Rannulph and Robert de Broc; Henry’s chancellor, Geoffrey Ridel; and his keeper of the seal, Nigel de Sackville; and he published the papal censures against the Archbishop of York, the Bishop of London, and the Bishop of Salisbury.
“Christ Jesus curse them all!” he proclaimed, and flung the lighted candles to the ground where they flickered and guttered out.
* * *
Henry erupted when he heard, as surely Becket knew he would do. But he did not say “Will none rid me of this turbulent priest?” What he actually said was “What miserable drones and traitors I have nourished and promoted in my household, who let their lord be mocked so shamefully by a lowborn clerk!” As we know, four knights hearing this took it upon themselves to show they were not miserable drones and traitors.
You would think that Henry would have learned from this how dangerous it could be to speak without thinking. Yet fourteen years later, he was vexed enough with his son Richard to tell seventeen year old John that Aquitaine was his if he could take it from Richard. I had Geoffrey speak for me when I had him marveling to himself that surely one Becket moment was enough for any man’s lifetime. Eleanor was no less astonished, saying scathingly, “Very good, Harry. It is always heartening to see that you’ve learned from your past mistakes.” Henry did not mean it, of course. He certainly did not intend for John, who had no troops or money of his own, to ally with Geoffrey, who had both, to try to take Aquitaine from Richard, as Henry had so carelessly invited John to do. They succeeded only in giving their brother a legitimate grievance, never a good idea when the injured party is also a first-rate battle commander. If ever there was a family in need of group therapy, it was the Angevins. But what a wonderful gift their dysfunctional drama was for future historical novelists!
Charlemagne became emperor on December 25th, 800 AD
William the Conqueror became England’s king in 1066
Baldwin of Boulogne became the first King of Jerusalem in 1100
Roger de Hauteville became the first King of Sicily in 1130; Roger was the father of Constance de Hauteville, who would later wed the German emperor Heinrich, and is a character in both Lionheart and A King’s Ransom.
Also on Christmas Day, 1170, Thomas Becket threw a torch into the hayrick of Henry’s Angevin temper, with devastating consequences for all concerned.
Time and Chance, page 448
* * *
On Christmas morning, Becket preached a sermon to the townspeople of Canterbury, assembled before him in the cathedral nave, based upon the text Peace on earth to men of good will. He then excommunicated again those men who had transgressed God’s Laws: Rannulph and Robert de Broc; Henry’s chancellor, Geoffrey Ridel; and his keeper of the seal, Nigel de Sackville; and he published the papal censures against the Archbishop of York, the Bishop of London, and the Bishop of Salisbury.
“Christ Jesus curse them all!” he proclaimed, and flung the lighted candles to the ground where they flickered and guttered out.
* * *
Henry erupted when he heard, as surely Becket knew he would do. But he did not say “Will none rid me of this turbulent priest?” What he actually said was “What miserable drones and traitors I have nourished and promoted in my household, who let their lord be mocked so shamefully by a lowborn clerk!” As we know, four knights hearing this took it upon themselves to show they were not miserable drones and traitors.
You would think that Henry would have learned from this how dangerous it could be to speak without thinking. Yet fourteen years later, he was vexed enough with his son Richard to tell seventeen year old John that Aquitaine was his if he could take it from Richard. I had Geoffrey speak for me when I had him marveling to himself that surely one Becket moment was enough for any man’s lifetime. Eleanor was no less astonished, saying scathingly, “Very good, Harry. It is always heartening to see that you’ve learned from your past mistakes.” Henry did not mean it, of course. He certainly did not intend for John, who had no troops or money of his own, to ally with Geoffrey, who had both, to try to take Aquitaine from Richard, as Henry had so carelessly invited John to do. They succeeded only in giving their brother a legitimate grievance, never a good idea when the injured party is also a first-rate battle commander. If ever there was a family in need of group therapy, it was the Angevins. But what a wonderful gift their dysfunctional drama was for future historical novelists!
December 24, 2012
Christmas Eve
The Welsh princes would have wished you Nadolig Llawen. Henry and Eleanor and their Devil’s Brood would have gone with Joyeux Noel. I’ll settle for a simple Merry Christmas to my friends and readers who celebrate it and thanks to you all for creating such a close-knit, fun community for us on Facebook and Goodreads and my blog.
December 23, 2012
Fake virus warning
I want to share a Geek Squad tip that just came in very handy. They told me that Melusine's troubles were due to malware. The tech said that I should beware of false messages that will look as if it comes from the computer owner's security system, saying viruses have been found and saying to click at once to clean the computer. He said that even careful people can easily fall for that. I asked him what to do if it happened to me and am I glad I did. This afternoon, I suddenly got a warning from Microsoft Security Essentials, my security program, with the fake virus message. Thanks to the tech, I knew what to do; he'd said it was dangerous even to close it myself. So I followed his advice and called up Task Manager to stop the program from running. So I want to pass this on in case some of you find these false messages popping up on your computers.
December 22, 2012
The Sunne in Splendour reborn
This is a perfect example of the law of unintended consequences, in this case, with very good results. My wonderful American editor and publisher, Putnam’s, have agreed to give me a much needed extension for A King’s Ransom. I was in full-panic mode, seeing no way that I could meet the deadline, so I consider this the best possible news, for me and for the book. This means, however, that Ransom cannot be published in October of next year, as was originally planned. I know that some of my readers will be disappointed, but I also know you all understand how much research is involved in writing one of my books, research that requires extra time. Now I will be able to give the remaining chapters the attention they deserve. And my secret fear won’t come true, that after missing the deadline, I’d have to enter the Witness Protection Program!
Now to the unexpected consequences of this decision. My British agent passed the news on to my new British publisher, Macmillan, which was also my first British publisher. I then learned that they’d been planning to publisher Ransom next October, too, which came as a surprise. They were very understanding, though, and then informed me that they really wanted to publish a book by me next year. And so, since they have the rights to it, they intend to bring out a hardback edition of The Sunne in Splendour next September. Sunne was first published thirty years ago, after all, and books rarely get a second life like this, so I felt as if I’d been given an early Christmas present. They initially set a pub date in October, but rescheduled it for September since I will be in the UK then for my Richard III tour. They will then bring out a new paperback publication of Sunne in 2014, possibly to coincide with their publication of Ransom. Since I know that so many of you are like me and want to have hardback editions of favorite books, I think this is very good news for us all. Maybe even for Richard.
Now to the unexpected consequences of this decision. My British agent passed the news on to my new British publisher, Macmillan, which was also my first British publisher. I then learned that they’d been planning to publisher Ransom next October, too, which came as a surprise. They were very understanding, though, and then informed me that they really wanted to publish a book by me next year. And so, since they have the rights to it, they intend to bring out a hardback edition of The Sunne in Splendour next September. Sunne was first published thirty years ago, after all, and books rarely get a second life like this, so I felt as if I’d been given an early Christmas present. They initially set a pub date in October, but rescheduled it for September since I will be in the UK then for my Richard III tour. They will then bring out a new paperback publication of Sunne in 2014, possibly to coincide with their publication of Ransom. Since I know that so many of you are like me and want to have hardback editions of favorite books, I think this is very good news for us all. Maybe even for Richard.
December 21, 2012
Richard's worst Chrismas
On December 21st 1192, Richard was captured by the Duke of Austria, an event that changed the history of several countries. There were a few other happenings worth mentioning on that date; Thomas Becket was born in 1118 and in 1295 Marguerite, queen of St Louis of France and one of the four famed sisters who all wed kings, died. But I’m much more interested in Richard’s bad day. So, as promised, I am posting below an excerpt from A King’s Ransom.
Here is the background. Richard and a German-speaking youngster and one or two knights made a desperate dash for safety in Moravia, covering an incredible 150 miles in just three days although they were in the mountains in the dead of winter. By the time they reached Vienna, they were just fifty miles from the Moravian border. But Richard was running a fever and was too exhausted to continue, so they took shelter in a village near Vienna until he was up to riding. We do not know the identity of the German-speaking youth, so I named him Arne. We know the other knight with Richard was Guillaume de l’Estrang, although I use an older version of Guillaume, having more than enough Williams wandering about in Ransom. The English chroniclers said he was accompanied by only one knight, but in the letter that Heinrich wrote to Philippe, he said that two knights had been captured with Richard, so I went with that version since it enabled me to insert Morgan into the action. All sorts of legends were later spun out about Richard’s capture, and they were just that, legends. The most reliable accounts are by the Austrian and English chroniclers, as the German and French chroniclers all had very sharp political axes to grind. In this scene, Richard is sleeping and Morgan and Guillain are discussing their plans to move on the next day; Arne was sent into Vienna to buy food, and has not yet returned.
* * *
. They were keeping their voices low so Richard would not be disturbed, and frowned as sudden barking erupted outside. Richard did not stir, though, and Morgan began looking for the dice.
But the barking did not stop, was so loud now that it sounded as if all the dogs in the village were in full tongue. The two men exchanged uneasy looks and Guillain crossed to the window, unbarred the shutters, and peered out. “Holy Christ!” He slammed the shutters and whirled around, the blood draining from his face. “There are soldiers outside!”
Morgan reacted instinctively, crying out Richard’s name and dashing across the room to bar the door even as he realized the futility of it. The urgency in his voice awoke Richard at once. “Soldiers, sire,” Guillain said hoarsely and Richard was at the window in two strides. Opening the shutters just enough to give him a view of the ale-wife’s yard, he saw crossbowmen and men-at-arms taking up position. Els and her sons were standing out in the street, looking bewildered, as her neighbors emerged to see what was happening. Several knights had dismounted and, as Richard watched, they drew their swords and began to approach the house, shouting his name and one of the few German words he knew, konig—king.
Richard latched the shutters again. His heart was thudding, his breath coming quick and shallow as his body reacted to the danger, while his stunned brain still struggled to accept what he’d seen. Morgan and Guillain looked just as shocked. None of them had truly believed that they’d be caught, for Richard’s self-confidence was contagious and they’d seen him defy the odds time and time again in the Holy Land. Now that his legendary luck had suddenly run out in this small Austrian village, it did not seem real to any of them, least of all, Richard.
He had his sword in hand now, but that was an unthinking response. For the first time in his life, he experienced what so many other men did in battle—pure physical panic. They were trapped, with no way out and only two choices—surrender or die. As he stared at the bed-chamber door, hearing the thud of boots as they tried to kick it in, his emotions were in such turmoil that death seemed preferable to what awaited him outside this room.
* * *
Here is the background. Richard and a German-speaking youngster and one or two knights made a desperate dash for safety in Moravia, covering an incredible 150 miles in just three days although they were in the mountains in the dead of winter. By the time they reached Vienna, they were just fifty miles from the Moravian border. But Richard was running a fever and was too exhausted to continue, so they took shelter in a village near Vienna until he was up to riding. We do not know the identity of the German-speaking youth, so I named him Arne. We know the other knight with Richard was Guillaume de l’Estrang, although I use an older version of Guillaume, having more than enough Williams wandering about in Ransom. The English chroniclers said he was accompanied by only one knight, but in the letter that Heinrich wrote to Philippe, he said that two knights had been captured with Richard, so I went with that version since it enabled me to insert Morgan into the action. All sorts of legends were later spun out about Richard’s capture, and they were just that, legends. The most reliable accounts are by the Austrian and English chroniclers, as the German and French chroniclers all had very sharp political axes to grind. In this scene, Richard is sleeping and Morgan and Guillain are discussing their plans to move on the next day; Arne was sent into Vienna to buy food, and has not yet returned.
* * *
. They were keeping their voices low so Richard would not be disturbed, and frowned as sudden barking erupted outside. Richard did not stir, though, and Morgan began looking for the dice.
But the barking did not stop, was so loud now that it sounded as if all the dogs in the village were in full tongue. The two men exchanged uneasy looks and Guillain crossed to the window, unbarred the shutters, and peered out. “Holy Christ!” He slammed the shutters and whirled around, the blood draining from his face. “There are soldiers outside!”
Morgan reacted instinctively, crying out Richard’s name and dashing across the room to bar the door even as he realized the futility of it. The urgency in his voice awoke Richard at once. “Soldiers, sire,” Guillain said hoarsely and Richard was at the window in two strides. Opening the shutters just enough to give him a view of the ale-wife’s yard, he saw crossbowmen and men-at-arms taking up position. Els and her sons were standing out in the street, looking bewildered, as her neighbors emerged to see what was happening. Several knights had dismounted and, as Richard watched, they drew their swords and began to approach the house, shouting his name and one of the few German words he knew, konig—king.
Richard latched the shutters again. His heart was thudding, his breath coming quick and shallow as his body reacted to the danger, while his stunned brain still struggled to accept what he’d seen. Morgan and Guillain looked just as shocked. None of them had truly believed that they’d be caught, for Richard’s self-confidence was contagious and they’d seen him defy the odds time and time again in the Holy Land. Now that his legendary luck had suddenly run out in this small Austrian village, it did not seem real to any of them, least of all, Richard.
He had his sword in hand now, but that was an unthinking response. For the first time in his life, he experienced what so many other men did in battle—pure physical panic. They were trapped, with no way out and only two choices—surrender or die. As he stared at the bed-chamber door, hearing the thud of boots as they tried to kick it in, his emotions were in such turmoil that death seemed preferable to what awaited him outside this room.
* * *
December 20, 2012
Sanctity of Hate
I know some of you will post today that Richard was captured on December 20th, 1192 outside Vienna, but I believe the more reliable date is the 21st, so I will put up an excerpt from Ransom tomorrow.
Meanwhile here is a fun link about shooting the book jacket photos for Priscilla Royale’s excellent medieval mystery series, which will now be coming out in the UK, too. And I am delighted to report that her novel Sanctity of Hate will be reviewed in the New York Times this Sunday. http://shar.es/htkWO
Meanwhile here is a fun link about shooting the book jacket photos for Priscilla Royale’s excellent medieval mystery series, which will now be coming out in the UK, too. And I am delighted to report that her novel Sanctity of Hate will be reviewed in the New York Times this Sunday. http://shar.es/htkWO
December 19, 2012
Eleanor's good day
My wonderful chiropractor has worked his magic and I am slowly on the mend. Hopefully that will soon be true for Melusine.
This has been a heartbreaking week for so many. We all feel so helpless in face of unspeakable horror. Here are some stories of people attempting to reach out to one another, to offer some small measure of comfort. I’ve seen photos of vigils being held for the slain children in countries all over the world, Albania, India, Pakistan. Grief is a universal language. http://usnews.nbcnews.com/_news/2012/... http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/12...
On the historical front, Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine were crowned on December 19th, 1154. I’ve always thought this had to be one of the most gratifying moments of Eleanor’s life. Two years earlier, she’d been divorced by the French king for what was perceived as her failure to give him a male heir. Yes, I think she welcomed the divorce, for their marriage was irretrievably broken by then. But the fact remains that she was viewed as a barren, discarded queen in the eyes of her contemporaries, and I find it hard to believe this did not lacerate her pride. But Eleanor was the living embodiment of that old adage, Don’t get mad, get even. She began by defying Louis and taking a husband of her own choosing, probably the last man in Christendom whom the French king would have wanted her to wed. She then gave the lie to the barren canard by presenting Henry with a son just fifteen months into their marriage. And on this December day at Westminster Abbey, she became a queen again. I think we can safely say this was a very good day for Eleanor, a very bad one for Louis.
This has been a heartbreaking week for so many. We all feel so helpless in face of unspeakable horror. Here are some stories of people attempting to reach out to one another, to offer some small measure of comfort. I’ve seen photos of vigils being held for the slain children in countries all over the world, Albania, India, Pakistan. Grief is a universal language. http://usnews.nbcnews.com/_news/2012/... http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/12...
On the historical front, Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine were crowned on December 19th, 1154. I’ve always thought this had to be one of the most gratifying moments of Eleanor’s life. Two years earlier, she’d been divorced by the French king for what was perceived as her failure to give him a male heir. Yes, I think she welcomed the divorce, for their marriage was irretrievably broken by then. But the fact remains that she was viewed as a barren, discarded queen in the eyes of her contemporaries, and I find it hard to believe this did not lacerate her pride. But Eleanor was the living embodiment of that old adage, Don’t get mad, get even. She began by defying Louis and taking a husband of her own choosing, probably the last man in Christendom whom the French king would have wanted her to wed. She then gave the lie to the barren canard by presenting Henry with a son just fifteen months into their marriage. And on this December day at Westminster Abbey, she became a queen again. I think we can safely say this was a very good day for Eleanor, a very bad one for Louis.
December 17, 2012
December 17th in history
I may not be on Facebook for a while, as I am dealing with yet another back pain flare-up and Melusine has been proving that I was right to name her after the Demon Countess of Anjou. I have just been told that her motherboard may be the problem and I have to bring her in to Best Buy tomorrow to be sent out for an exorcism; okay, they said “repair,” but we know what they really meant. So here is the Today in History Note for the 17th. I know I can count on you all to carry on until I can surface again!
Baldwin, Count of Hainaut and Count of Flanders died on this date in 1195. He was the father of Philippe Capet’s unfortunate wife, Isabelle, who died in childbirth at age twenty. He’d wed the sister of Philip d’Alsace, the Count of Flanders, who appears as a character in Devil’s Brood and Lionheart, and when Philip died at the siege of Acre without a legitimate heir to succeed him, Flanders passed to Baldwin, his brother-in-law. Philip had been wed to the niece of Eleanor, daughter of her sister Petronilla, and he’d claimed her inheritance of Vermandois after contending she’d been unfaithful; some historians and some of his contemporaries were skeptical of that, but it did not help his wife or the poor soul whom Philip alleged to have been her lover; he met a very unpleasant end. To show how impossibly entangled the lives of these people were, Baldwin’s son, also a Baldwin, succeeded him as Count of Flanders and wed the daughter of Marie of Champagne, sister of Henri in Lionheart, and he was said to have loved her “with a fervent love.” Both he and his Marie died young, though, victims of that shameful farce known as the Fourth Crusade, which never reached the Holy Land, choosing instead to sack the Christian city of Constantinople. Baldwin was then named as the first Latin Emperor of what we today call the Byzantine Empire, and died as a prisoner in Bulgaria, most likely put to death. Marie, not knowing of this, had sailed to join him at Acre, where she then took ill and died.
Baldwin, Count of Hainaut and Count of Flanders died on this date in 1195. He was the father of Philippe Capet’s unfortunate wife, Isabelle, who died in childbirth at age twenty. He’d wed the sister of Philip d’Alsace, the Count of Flanders, who appears as a character in Devil’s Brood and Lionheart, and when Philip died at the siege of Acre without a legitimate heir to succeed him, Flanders passed to Baldwin, his brother-in-law. Philip had been wed to the niece of Eleanor, daughter of her sister Petronilla, and he’d claimed her inheritance of Vermandois after contending she’d been unfaithful; some historians and some of his contemporaries were skeptical of that, but it did not help his wife or the poor soul whom Philip alleged to have been her lover; he met a very unpleasant end. To show how impossibly entangled the lives of these people were, Baldwin’s son, also a Baldwin, succeeded him as Count of Flanders and wed the daughter of Marie of Champagne, sister of Henri in Lionheart, and he was said to have loved her “with a fervent love.” Both he and his Marie died young, though, victims of that shameful farce known as the Fourth Crusade, which never reached the Holy Land, choosing instead to sack the Christian city of Constantinople. Baldwin was then named as the first Latin Emperor of what we today call the Byzantine Empire, and died as a prisoner in Bulgaria, most likely put to death. Marie, not knowing of this, had sailed to join him at Acre, where she then took ill and died.
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