Sharon Kay Penman's Blog, page 138

Yom Kippur and William Rufus

Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement, began last night and I am thinking of all my Jewish friends and readers today.
And on September 26, 1087, William Rufus, the second son of William the Conqueror, AKA known as William the Bastard, was crowned King of England. William is said to have wanted to disinherit his eldest son Robert on his deathbed, but was persuaded instead to divide his domains, leaving England to William Rufus and Normandy to Robert. I have more to say about William’s sons, but have to go see my chiropractor, blessed be his name, soon, and will continue the post when I return.

Battle of Stamford Bridge

September 25, 1066 was the date of the highly significant battle of Stamford Bridge, in which the last Saxon king, Harold Godwinson, defeated a force led by the Norwegian king, Harald Hardraga, and the Saxon Harold’s brother Tostig. Harold marched his army an astonishing 180 miles in just four day to catch the Norwegians by surprise. In a very bloody and lengthy battle, both the Norwegian king and Tostig were slain on the field. It was a total triumph for Harold, but it may be one of the most costly victories in history, for three days later, a Norman force led by William the Bastard landed at Pevensey and Harold was forced to race his battered army south to repel this new invasion. Less than three weeks later, both armies met at Hastings and the history of England was forever changed. Here is a link to the battle of Stamford Bridge. http://www.britainexpress.com/History...
I may be MIA for a while on Facebook as I am dealing with a double whammy. I managed to re-injure my back (sigh) which is limiting my computer time till my chiropractor can put Humpty Dumpty together again, and I am also dealing with a key Ransom chapter and can feel Richard’s hot breath on the back of my neck as he is very impatient to let payback begin.
Lastly, my condolences to Aaron Rodgers and the Green Bay Packers, whose mugging last night by the NFL “refs” may have been the most widely witnessed theft in all of human history.

Scott Fitzgerald and Eleanor of Aquitaine

It seems to be “feast or famine” with my Today in Medieval History notes. September 24th was not just a slow day, it was a total non-starter. Well, in 1180, Manuel Comnenus, the Byzantine emperor (called the empire of the Greeks in Lionheart since “Byzantine” was coined later) died. He was a very important ruler in Byzantine history and he does have a tenuous connection to my books, for his young son wed Agnes, the even younger daughter of Eleanor’s former husband, Louis VII. Thankfully both Manuel and Louis were dead when the lives of these youngsters came to such grief—Overthrown in a palace coup, the boy was murdered and Agnes was compelled to wed his murderer.
But that is all I could come up with for September 24th in the MA. The date was the birthday, though, of a celebrated American novelist, F. Scott Fitzgerald, born on this date in 1896. He is best known for his novel The Great Gatsby, of course, and for his Paris sojourn in the 1920s with his wife Zelda and other expat writers, including Ernest Hemingway. A very talented writer, he was not as impressive when it came to social commentary. His claim that “There are no second acts in American life” could not be more off-base. We thrive on second acts here, and third and fourth acts. Although I have to say that the most awesome second act belongs to a former queen of France, Eleanor of Aquitaine, who not only gained another crown in her own second act but founded a dynasty that would last for 300 years. Okay….it took a bit of doing, but I managed to connect F. Scott Fitzgerald to the MA!

My favorite of the Devil's Brood

September 23rd, 1158 is the birthday of my personal favorite of the Devil’s Brood, Henry and Eleanor’s third surviving son, Geoffrey, Duke of Brittany. There was just a year between Geoffrey and Richard, which may have accounted for the constant friction between them. Geoffrey, of course, has gotten short shrift by historians as he was the only son not to wear a crown, and as a result, they tended to accept at face value the critical judgments passed on Geoffrey by the contemporary chroniclers. One historian even went so far to as to claim Geoffrey was motivated by “mindless malice.” It was Geoffrey’s bad luck that there were no Breton chroniclers to record his reign over the duchy or to put his actions in the proper perspective. When seen through a Breton prism, his conduct is far more comprehensible, if not always admirable. I have often recommended Dr Judith Everard’s excellent study of 12th century Brittany, Brittany and the Angevins, and I recommend it again for anyone wanting to understand Geoffrey’s career and the turbulent relationship between the Bretons and the English and French monarchs.
No one should doubt that the death of one man can exert a profound impact upon history. Richard’s carelessness at the siege of Chalus not only altered English history, it changed the course of German history and would bring untold miseries to the people of Languedoc because of the Albigensian Crusade. Perhaps Geoffrey’s death in that French tournament did not have such far-reaching consequences, but it is interesting to speculate what might have happened had Geoffrey not died so prematurely. My own belief is that there would not have been a King John and there would have been a King Arthur, for in a contest for the English crown between Geoffrey and John, my money would have been on Geoffrey. That is assuming, of course, that the trajectory of Richard’s life would remain the same, with him dying at Chalus without an heir of his body.
While this date is memorable to me because of Geoffrey, it is also the date of the battle of Blore Heath in 1459, the first major battle of the War of the Roses. I did not get to dramatize it in Sunne, unfortunately, for it was an unusual battle. Queen Marguerite had instructed Lord Audley to ambush a force led by the Yorkist commander, the Earl of Salisbury, brother to Cecily Neville and father of Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick; there is an unsubstantiated tradition that Marguerite was present at the battle. Although Salisbury was considerably outnumbered, he managed to prevail. Audley was slain and when they saw that victory was going to the Yorkists, five hundred Lancastrians switched sides in the midst of the battle and attacked their own, which helps to explain the paranoia of the Lancastrians at Barnet Heath, when in the confusion of the fog, the Earl of Oxford collided with the men led by John Neville. Here is a link to an excellent website devoted to the battle of Blore Heath for those who’d like to find out more about it. http://www.bloreheath.org/index.php

The luckiest Tudor queen

On September 22nd, 1515, Henry VIII’s fourth queen, Anne of Cleaves, was born. I have always considered Anne to be the luckiest of his wives. It is true that Katherine of Aragon had some good years with him and seems to have been happy during those early years of their marriage, but once he was charmed by Anne Boleyn, there was nothing but great misery ahead for her. In the same way, Anne enjoyed some moments of triumph and happiness, but like Katherine, she would pay a very high price for them. Whether Jane Seymour was as ambitious as Anne but more subtle or whether she was a pawn of her powerful family, she did not have much time to savor her success. Silly little Catherine Howard was a minnow swimming with sharks. And Catherine Parr’s story was the saddest of the lot, at least IMHO, for she had not wanted to marry Henry and her years as queen were fraught with peril, with still more pain to follow once she was finally free of him. So by the process of elimination, that leaves Anne of Cleaves, Henry’s “dear sister,” who was fortunate enough to be spared Henry’s usual way of ending a marriage and who seems to have been treated well by Henry in appreciation for her cooperation. She was still denied what was the “normal” life for a woman in the 16th century, a family of her own, but she was very kind to Henry’s children and they were desperately in need of such affection and stability in their lives. My favorite film about the Tudor Bluebeard is the brilliant BBC series, The Six Wives of Henry VIIII. It was done decades ago, but has stood the test of time very well and is available on DVD. Anne’s episode is excellent, and it is impossible to watch it without feeling a surge of admiration for this level-headed, intelligent young woman. So Happy Birthday, Anne, the queen who checkmated a king.

A king's death--maybe

On September 21, 1327, Edward II is said to have died at Berkeley Castle. I phrase it that way because some historians do not believe Edward actually died on that date. I am not knowledgeable enough about Edward’s reign to have any hard and fast opinions about this. But Kathryn Warner probably knows more about Edward’s life than even Edward did, and she rejects this “official” account of his death. Here is a link to her website, the best place to go for anyone interested in finding out more about this unhappy king. http://edwardthesecond.blogspot.com/ I am very happy to report that the gruesome red-hot poker story has been discredited, so even if he did die on September 21, 1327, it was not in such a horrific, inhumane manner.
And on September 21, 1411, Richard, Duke of York, future husband to Cecily Neville and father of Edward IV and Richard III, was born. Unlike Edward II, there is no doubt whatsoever about his death; he was slain in the battle of Wakefield and his head, along with those of his seventeen year old son Edmund and his brother-in-law, the Earl of Salisbury, were mounted on Micklegate Bar in York. It is an eerie feeling to stand by Micklegate Bar today, looking up at the gate and imagining how it was for York’s son Edward, entering the city after his victory at Towton and seeing them impaled there.

The siege of Jerusalem and my next book

On September 20th, 1187, The Sultan of Egypt, better known to posterity as Saladin, began the siege of Jerusalem. It would last for 13 days, Jerusalem yielding to him on October 2nd after Balian d’Ibelin had persuaded him to allow the city to surrender peacefully rather than be taken by storm, as Saladin had intended. Balian accomplished this by promising to ransom the citizens, paid for with the money that Henry II had given in support of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, and by threatening to destroy all of the Muslim holy places in the city if they had nothing to lose. This, by the way, is the only thing that the epic but inaccurate film, Kingdom of Heaven, got right in its fanciful depiction of Balian’s life. He was indeed the savior of Jerusalem. He was not, however, an illegitimate blacksmith living in France or the lover of Queen Sybilla. I am a bit protective of Balian and I hope to do him justice in my next novel, The Land Beyond the Sea, which has now gotten the green light from my publisher.
So once A King’s Ransom is handed over to my editor’s tender mercies, I will be returning to the Holy Land with Balian as my guide. He will be sharing center stage with Henri, the young Count of Champagne, which means that the Angevins are likely to infiltrate this book, too. Henri’s mother was close to her half-brothers, Hal, Geoffrey, and Richard, and knowing them as I do, they are sure to crash the party whenever I do a scene with Henri back in Champagne. And of course in the part of the book that deals with the Third Crusade, Henri’s Uncle Richard will probably make a few appearances. Aside from Balian and Henri, the cast will also include Saladin, his brother al-Malik al-Adil, the ambitious adventurer Conrad of Montferrat, the tragic young leper king, Baldwin, and three Queens of Jerusalem—Baldwin’s sisters Sybilla and Isabella and Balian’s wife Maria.
September 20th is also the birthday of Henry Tudor and Elizabeth of York’s son Arthur, born in 1486. It has sometimes been suggested that the name Richard is an unlucky one for an English king, since the three men who bore it all died prematurely and violently. But Arthur is not a lucky name, either. In 1202, Arthur of Brittany was captured by his uncle John at Mirebeau and was never seen alive again. And Arthur Tudor would also die young, a death that would drastically change English history.

The Battle of Poitiers

On September 19th, 1356, the battle of Poitiers was fought between the forces of the Black Prince and the French king, John II. Despite being greatly outnumbered, the Black Prince won the victory and John was captured. He was treated far better than another captive king, Richard I; taken to England, he was allowed to travel and lived in a regal style, as the records show his expenditures for horses, hawks, dogs, etc. His ransom was set at a vast three million crowns and after leaving his son, Louis, as a hostage in his place, he was allowed to return to France to raise the ransom in 1360. But when he subsequently learned that Louis had escaped, he was disturbed, feeling that his honor had been damaged by this action. Despite the heated protests of his lords, he insisted upon returning voluntarily to England to be held as a hostage until the ransom was paid. He said it was a matter of honor and good faith, while his enemies claimed that he’d really done it because he enjoyed a comfortable life style in England and was weary of dealing with his contentious French barons. Whatever his reasons for this dramatic action, he fell suddenly ill a few months after his return to England and died in April 1364, at age 45. His body was returned to France and he was buried at St Denis. Poitiers is, of course, one of the famous battles of the One Hundred Years War.

Eleanor of Aquitaine and Richard III Tours

We are going to have to postpone the Eleanor tour originally scheduled for next September. The Abbaye Royale Hotel, located on the actual abbey grounds at Fontevrault, has closed for extensive renovations. Staying there was an integral part of the tour and was considered a highlight of the trip by those who participated in It.; there was something magical about staying on the abbey grounds, as if we were guests at a medieval abbey—the hotel itself was the abbey’s lazar house. So we reluctantly concluded that we had no choice except to reschedule the tour for the spring of 2014.
The travel agency wanted me to consider doing another tour next September in lieu of the postponed Eleanor tour. I am not yet able to do a tour of my beloved Wales, so at first I was at a loss. But then I realized that this would be the ideal time to do a Ricardian tour—with a bit of luck, we could even get to visit Richard’s tomb! (Yes, I am convinced that a genuine miracle occurred in that Leicester car-park and they have found their man.)
The travel agency is very keen on the idea, so we are giving serious consideration to doing a tour of the places that are most closely associated with Richard. That would obviously include Middleham Castle, the city of York, Ludlow Castle, Tewkesbury, Windsor Castle, the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey (I believe Richard’s Crosby Hall is no longer open to the public) and the battlefield at Bosworth. The first step is gauging the measure of interest in such a tour. So…what do you all think? Any interest?
And on the history front, Louis VII of France died on September 18, 1180, at age sixty, months after suffering a debilitating stroke. Poor Louis. I wonder how he’d react to be told that he is remembered today mainly as the first husband of Eleanor of Aquitaine.

An incomparable woman, an ungodly churchman, and that Leicester car-park burial

September 17th, 1179 was the birthday of one of the most extraordinary women of the MA, Hildegard of Bingen. She was a Renaissance woman before her time—an abbess, a poet, a writer, a gifted composer, a healer, a philosopher, a mystic, and a saint. Mary Sharratt, author of the haunting Daughters of the Witching Hill, has written a novel about Hildegard, Illuminations, which will be published in the US on October 9th. I read the first few chapters of this novel in galley proofs and I was mesmerized by it. It was incredibly frustrating when I came to the end and knew I’d have a long wait to read the rest of Hildegard’s story—it was that good.
My friend Koby kindly reminded me that I forgot a significant death for September 15th. On this date in 1500, one of my least favorite historical figures died, John Morton, chancellor to Henry Tudor, subsequently Archbishop of Canterbury, and a man as deserving of the nickname “the universal spider” as Louis XI of France. When Richard III died at Bosworth, his reputation was at the mercy of Tudor and Morton, and we know how that turned out. Morton was also infamous for Morton’s Fork; when squeezing Tudor’s subjects for money, he argued that if someone lived frugally, that meant he must have money squirreled away and if he lived lavishly, that was proof he could afford to contribute to the Crown. I recently came upon a medieval chronicler’s comment that “In this year the pagan Saladin died and was buried in Hell.” I definitely would not have consigned Saladin to Hell, but I’d be happy to see Morton take his place.
Lastly, Romina was kind enough to post this link yesterday on one of my Facebook pages. It is a very funny article that argues in favor of giving Richard III a state funeral. I think that is an excellent idea—provided that we send the bill for it to those shameless souls who foisted The Tudors on an unsuspecting world. http://blogs.telegraph.co.uk/news/dan...