Sharon Kay Penman's Blog, page 14

Time and Chance ebook bargain

One of my wonderful readers posted on another of my Facebook pages that Amazon is now offering the ebook edition of Time and Chance for only $1.99. I don’t know how long this special promotion lasts; I wouldn’t have known it at all if not for Melody’s sharp eye. But if any of my readers would like an ebook version, you cannot beat this price.
https://www.amazon.com/Time-Chance-Pl...

The power of compassion

Here is an example of how powerful kindness and compassion can be. This story of a little boy’s meltdown and a young woman’s empathy made my day; I hope you all find it as heartening as I did. I also have a Today in History post and will be back with that one later. https://www.cnn.com/2019/06/08/health...

A cemetery I've never forgotten

Today is the 75th anniversary of D-Day, a truly remarkable military achievement. I know that Steven Spielberg’s epic Private Ryan is considered the definitive film about the Normandy invasion, but I also liked The Longest Day, for I thought it conveyed the confusion and horrors of war very effectively. Anyone else see that one? D-Day always makes me think of an experience I had in Luxembourg a number of years ago. On my first trip to Europe, where I planned to live in England while researching Sunne, I flew Islandic Airlines, for it was offering bargain rates. The flight destination was Luxembourg, but that was fine with me. So after an overnight stay in Reykjevik, I flew to Luxembourg, which is a very beautiful country. While there, I visited the American Cemetery where over five thousand US soldiers were buried. I’ve never forgotten the sight of those rows of gleaming white crosses, seeming to stretch into infinity. One woman was there to visit her brother’s grave and I remember, too, watching sadly as she knelt by his grave and wept. I don’t think I’ve ever visited another cemetery that moved me as much as this one did, although I did have the same emotional reaction to the memorial of the USS Arizona in Honolulu and the Vietnam Wall in Washington, DC. Have any of my readers been to the Luxembourg cemetery? Have you visited other cemeteries that made a profound impression on you?

The king's brother

I wanted to wish “Ramadan Kareem” to my Muslim readers now that Ramadan has begun. In The Land Beyond the Sea, I had to check before any scene involving my Muslim characters to see when Ramadan occurred in that year, for it is a time of fasting—just as I’ve always taken care to acknowledge dietary restrictions for my Christian characters; no eating venison during Lent, for example. I have occasionally had fun, though, with the mythical barnacle goose, supposedly hatched in the sea and thus able to be eaten on fast days. See The Reckoning, pages 406-407. And in anticipation of tomorrow’s 75th anniversary of D-Day, the invasion of Normandy by the allied forces, here is a brief video of a 97 year old paratrooper, Tom Rice, repeating the jump that he made on June 6th, 1944; of course, then it was dark and people were shooting at him.

https://www.nbcnews.com/video/97-year...

Going much farther back in history, Edward I was luckier than he deserved, IMHO. One of the ways in which he was lucky was that he was blessed with a brother both competent and very loyal, not always the case for brothers of kings; George of Clarence, anyone? Edmund, Earl of Lancaster and Leicester, died on June 5, 1296, at age 51 while besieging Bordeaux for Edward. I found him quite sympathetic, as anyone reading Shadow and The Reckoning can probably tell.
Edmund is sometimes called Edmund Crouchback because he took part in Edward’s crusade. He was wed to Blanche of Artois, queen-consort of Navarre, who was the granddaughter of Blanche of Castile, Eleanor of Aquitaine’s grand-daughter. Edmund received the earldom of Leicester after Simon de Montfort’s death at Evesham. He and Blanche had several children; their son Thomas was executed after rebelling against Edward II. Edmund appears in Falls the Shadow and The Reckoning and Blanche appears in The Reckoning; although a minor character, I found her great fun to write about. She suffered a terrible tragedy when her young son from her marriage to the King of Navarre died when his nurse accidentally dropped him from a castle battlement. No, I do not know what happened to the nurse. Blanche’s daughter Joan by the King of Navarre would wed King Philip IV of France, he of Templar infamy; Joan was therefore the mother of three French kings and a Queen of England, Isabella, controversial consort of Edward II.

The Lionheart, Anne Boleyn, and star-crossed lovers

Here is my post for yesterday, a rather long one, and then a shorter one for today.
By June 1st, 1191, Richard Coeur de Lion had complete control of Cyprus. His fury at the way Isaac Comnenus had maltreated his shipwrecked men and threatened his sister and betrothed was real enough, but as soon as he’d glanced at a map, he’d seen what a valuable supply base the island would be for the Kingdom of Jerusalem, just a day’s sail away from the Syrian coast. He gave the self-proclaimed emperor enough rope to hang himself, and Isaac obliged by sneaking away in the night after agreeing to the terms Richard had demanded of him. In this scene from Lionheart, Berengaria, now Richard’s wife, is puzzled by how calm he is after getting word that Isaac had disavowed their pact and he explains why Cyprus is of such strategic importance to Outremer.
Lionheart, Pages 255-256
“But…but why did you agree to make peace with Isaac, then?”
“Because it seemed like I might get what I wanted without having to fight for it. He agreed to swear fealty to me and pledged his full support to recapture Jerusalem. If he honored the terms, we’d have gotten a thousand men, the promise of Cypriot harvests, and money I could put toward the cost of the campaign. Naturally, I trusted him about as much as I’d trust a viper, so I demanded his daughter as a hostage and the surrender of his castles. If he’d kept faith, I’d have been satisfied with that.”
“Did you think he would keep faith?”
He smiled without answering and went to the door to admit his squires. (Omission)
His squires had assisted Richard with his hauberk and he was buckling his scabbard. Berengaria was still trying to come to terms with this new knowledge, that Richard had been two steps ahead of the Cypriot emperor from the very first. If Isaac were not such a monster, she might have felt a twinge of pity for him. But she did not doubt he deserved whatever Richard had in mind for him, and now that it had been explained to her, she could see that holding Cyprus would be very beneficial to the Holy Land. Yet how could Richard spare the time to defeat Isaac when they were awaiting him at the siege of Acre?
(Omission)
“What of the men at Acre, Richard? Will they not be upset by this delay?”
“It will not take that long.”
“How long would it take to conquer an entire country?” She’d not realized she’d spoken the words aloud, not until Richard paused on his way to the door.
“Well,” he said, “I wagered Andre that we could do it in a fortnight.” And then he was gone, leaving her alone in their marriage bed, a bride of four days, staring at that closing door.
* * *
When it came to military matters, Richard was usually right, and that proved to be the case, too, in Cyprus. The Cypriots were delighted to be rid of Isaac and Richard agreed to issue a charter confirming the laws and rights as they’d been in the days before Isaac had usurped the throne, but of course he exacted a high price for this privilege, imposing a steep levy upon their goods to help finance the crusade; like most medieval kings, Richard was very good at squeezing money from people. He sold Cyprus to the Templars and later bestowed it upon Guy de Lusignan to get him out of Outremer and pave the way for Conrad of Montferrat’s kingship. Guy didn’t live long enough to enjoy his new possession, but his older brother Amaury made the most of it, getting Richard’s nemesis, Heinrich von Hohenstaufen, to recognize him as the Cypriot king. Amaury would use Cyprus as a stepping stone to a far more prestigious crown, that of Jerusalem itself, but the de Lusignan family continued to rule the island long after the kingdom of Jerusalem was only a memory. And if you think the Angevins had a colorful history, you should read what the de Lusignans got up to on Cyprus!
Also on June 1st, this time in 1533, Anne Boleyn was crowned as England’s queen. I wonder if she felt that her race had been won as the crown was placed upon her head. Or did she perhaps have any forebodings for the future? Anyone who totally trusted Henry had to be one of God’s great fools, and Anne was not a fool. But she was insecure and arrogant, a dangerous combination for a woman wed to a man now convinced that his will and God’s Will were one and the same. My own feeling is that the only one of Henry’s six wives to be truly happy on her wedding day was Katherine of Aragon, for I think she loved her golden young prince and would never have believed it had she been told what a monster he would later become. I think the BBC production, The Six Wives of Henry VIII, has stood the test of time and remains the most compelling and convincing account of his sad and sordid marital history.


Today’s date is a slower medieval news day. On June 2, 1420, Henry V married Catherine of Valois as part of the treaty of Troyes. She would be soon widowed, after having given him a son, the unfortunate Henry VI. Catherine was to be the mother of one king and the grandmother of another, but I am guessing she is mainly remembered today by romantics who fancy the story of her secret marriage to the dashing Welshman, Owen Tudor. She died of apparent complications from childbirth in 1437. Owen survived to be executed by Edward IV. Henry V was lucky enough to be immortalized in one of Shakespeare’s plays. I always thought it strange that Shakespeare ignored the high drama provided by our favorite Plantagenets, those wonderfully dysfunctional Angevins. Yes, I know he did one about John, but how about our Henry? Henry’s problems with his sons would have given Lear a run for his money.

A terrible battle to fight, an exciting one to write about

I hope none of my readers were affected by those terrifying tornadoes and flooding that are causing so much suffering in the American Midwest. Today starts the Memorial Day weekend in the US and I believe it is also a bank holiday in the UK? How about Down Under? So I hope you all get to enjoy the first taste of summer and take the time to remember the men and women who died in the defense of their country.
Playing catch-up again for my Today in History posts, May 14, 1264 was the battle of Lewes, in which Simon de Montfort defeated and captured Henry III. This was one of my favorite battles for it was so dramatic and filled with unexpected turns and twists. Lewes was protected by the river but vulnerable to attack from the west, from the Downs, and Simon made a night march to take the royal army by surprise at dawn the next morning. Edward made a major mistake by leaving the field in pursuit of the panicked Londoners, wanting revenge for the time Londoners had pelted his mother with mud, ripe fruit, and curses; he actually pursued them for several miles. Simon, a gifted military commander, realized what was happening when Edward’s vanguard chased after the Londoners and led his reserve against Henry’s left flank, a surprise strike that gave him the victory. Henry’s brother Richard was captured after taking refuge in a mill. Then Edward fought his way into the priory where his father was trapped instead of fleeing to continue the war. And of course it was a family affair. Simon was wed to Henry’s sister and his sons and Edward were first cousins and childhood companions; Simon himself was Edward’s godfather. What writer wouldn’t want to fight a battle like that?
Simon was a man of many contradictions, with his share of flaws. But he genuinely believed that even a king should have accountability and this French-born baron would call the first parliament in which both knights and burgesses from the towns would attend and be elected. Unlike most rebellions, Simon’s supporters were fighting for a cause, not personal grievances. Simon was said to have given a stirring pre-battle speech; this is the one I gave to him. “This day we fight for justice, for Christ’s poor, for the weal of England, for the promises broken and the trust betrayed. Our cause is just, our quarrel good.” Henry’s rebuttal that as the king, he was answerable only to God did not have quite the same resonance. 😊
I remember trekking the bridle path that Simon’s army would have taken up Offham Hill, not sure we were going the right way, but following Geoff, my English godson, who insisted he knew where we were going, and he did. Eventually we came out upon the Downs and there was the town of Lewes lying below us, just as Simon and his men would have seen it so many centuries ago. History seemed very close at that moment.
Here is a brief scene from Falls the Shadow, page 452-453. Edward has just returned to the battlefield after his pursuit and slaughter of the fleeing Londoners.
* * * * *
They drew rein on the crest of the hill, where their first glimpse of the battlefield seemed to confirm Edward’s every expectation. The battle was over, part of the town in flames. Bodies beyond counting lay sprawled in the sun, some already stripped by looters. Men were searching the field for friends or gain, others tending to the wounded, still others chasing loose horses. Only to the south, beyond the priory, did sporadic fighting continue, and that flurry of action degenerated, even as they watched, into a rout.
Edward laughed. “The dolts, they’re going to blunder right into the mudflats! Simon will lose even more men in that marsh than he did in the river.”
“Do you think he still lives, Ned?” Hal asked hesitantly, for he could not imagine Simon dead, any more than he could the sun plummeting from the sky.
“No,” Edward said flatly. “He’s not a man to be taken alive.” Turning in the saddle, he raised his voice. “We’ll give our horses a brief rest; they’ve been roughly used this day. But the sooner we get back to the castle, the sooner we can begin celebrating!”
Some of them were ready to celebrate then and there, and wineskins were soon passing back and forth. It was left to Davydd, the outsider, to stumble onto the truth. Moving to the edge of the bluff, he gazed down at the battlefield. So many widows, so many orphans made this day. And not all the tears shed for de Montfort would be English. Llywelyn had suffered a defeat, too, lost an ally worth his weight in gold. Davydd’s eyes shifted from the trampled meadows to the town. Blood of Christ! For a long moment, he sat motionless in the saddle, scarcely breathing. Could it be that he’d wagered once again on the wrong horse?
His sudden shout drew all eyes. Edward was moving toward him, though without haste. Davydd spurred his stallion away from the bluff. “If we won the battle,” he said tautly, “why is the castle under siege?”
* * * * *

A king does penance, another king is murdered

I am very happy to report that my Deadline Dragon has departed the premises. She waited until I took my copy-edited manuscript to the PO—dragons are short on trust. She was last seen flying east. I like to think she’s heading for the Shadowlands where she’ll hook up with Drogon and become a real mother of dragons. I’m holding off making any public comments about GOT since some of my readers may not have had a chance to see the finale yet. So more on that later. I’ll also start trying to catch up with some of my Today in History posts, starting with the one below.

May 21st, 1172 was the date of the Compromise of Avranches, where Henry II made peace with the Church for that rather awkward assassination of the Archbishop of Canterbury by several of his knights
Devil’s Brood, pages 24-25
* * *
When Henry finally emerged from the church, the spectators were disappointed anew, for he was not bareheaded and barefoot and clad only in his shirt A few men explained knowingly that he was spared the usual mortification because he’d not been excommunicated, but most of the bystanders took a more cynical view, that kings were always accorded special treatment, even by the Almighty. Henry knelt upon the paving stones, only then removing his cap, and received public absolution by the Cardinals Albert and Theodwin. When he rose, the cardinals and the Bishop of Avranches led him back in to the cathedral, a symbolic act of reconciliation with the Church and the Almighty.
The dissatisfied onlookers dispersed when they realized the show was over. Roger, Bishop of Worcester, stood alone for a moment before slowly reentering the church, for he had been close enough to Henry to hear him say softly after the absolution, “Check, Thomas, and mate.”
* * *
Henry would, of course, later make a genuine and much more spectacular act of atonement, submitting to a scourging and keeping an all-night vigil by the tomb of his martyred archbishop and one-time friend. And I am so glad he did, for that was such a powerful scene to write!
May 21st, 1471 was also the date of death of the hapless Lancastrian king, Henry VI, who died in the Tower—of melancholy, grieving over the death of his son at the battle of Tewkesbury, according to Yorkist spokesmen There may have been a few people who actually believed that, doubtless the same trusting souls who were eager to buy medieval bridges and swampland, having been assured it was prime real estate.
On a personal note, May 21st, 1912 was my dad’s birthday. He’d always wanted to live to reach one hundred; he did not make it but he did reach ninety-three. He liked to tell us that his generation saw changes more dramatic than any in the history of mankind and I think he was right, for he went from the horse and buggy to the age of space travel. As a boy, he and his grandfather took a horse and wagon from Atlantic City to Philadelphia; it was an all-day trip to cover those fifty miles He lived to make that same trip in an hour’s time He saw the birth of radio, talking movies, television, anti-biotics, men on the moon, and computers, although he never had any desire to master the latter Future generations will see dramatic changes, too, but they won’t be going from a semi-medieval life style to a world beyond imagining, as he did.

A queen weds in Cyprus and another queen is embarrassed in Houston

I am playing hooky again while the Deadline Dragon naps. I have a historical happening to post and I also have a video of the Mother of Dragons, AKA Emilia Clarke, being honored and embarrassed at the Warriors-Rockets game in Houston last week. It is sure to make you all smile (even you hold-outs who’ve never seen her dragons in action) and since I suspect few Game of Thrones fans will find much to smile about after tonight’s finale, I wanted to give you one last opportunity for carefree laughter untainted by disappointment or anger with the HBO writers. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tx8p0...
On the historical front, May 12, 1191 was the date of the marriage of Richard of England and Berengaria of Navarre. I’ve said before that I was surprised to find that the marriage seemed to get off to a promising start given its sad ending, but they were polar opposites in so many ways and that rarely makes for a long and happy marriage. I had fun writing these Lionheart scenes, though, as Richard ambushes the women with his nonchalant suggestion that he and Berengaria wed that weekend. In his best oblivious mode, he cannot understand why Joanna is so dismayed. When she demands to know how they could possibly pull off a royal wedding in just a few days, he casually counters,
“How hard could it be? I assume Berenguela did not intend to get married stark naked, so she must have a suitable gown in her coffers. I thought we’d have her coronation at the same time.” Richard glanced over at his mute betrothed and smiled. “I daresay you’ll be the first and the last Queen of England ever to be crowned in Cyprus, little dove.”
And in that, he was right. She was.
Ironically, although I don’t think she found much happiness in marriage to Richard, he bestowed some of his own celebrity status upon her. Just as he is one of the best known medieval kings, she is better known than many of the other women who wed English kings. How many of them have a street in a French city named after them? Or how many were portrayed in a Hollywood film in which she snatches Richard’s sword and refuses to give it back as he is about to rush off to fight the Saracens? I have my friend Owen to thank for calling this to my attention, since I’ve not seen this epic for myself; he says she also scolds him as “Dick Plantagenet” and that alone would be worth the price of admission.

An elephant in need

I signed a petition urging the release of an elephant from her long confinement at the Johannesburg Zoo. The story below offers more details. If you read it and agree with me that Lammie deserves to spend her final years in an elephant sanctuary, please sign the petition, too, and share it with your friends. Thank you all for considering it.
https://www.sabreakingnews.co.za/2019...

Here is the link to the petition. https://www.change.org/p/johannesburg...

A princess marries for love; yes, it really happened

I am making a quick visit while the Deadline Dragon is napping. It will probably take at least another week before I plow through the last of the copy-edited ms…sigh. Meanwhile, I want to wish a Happy Mother’s Day to all of my friends and readers who have been blessed with children in their lives. And I hope the flooding in New Orleans and the earlier flooding in Houston has not affected any of you? Now, before I have to disappear again, I am actually going to post ahead of time about a historical event that occurred on tomorrow’s date since I cannot be sure the Deadline Dragon will be napping then. Or I might be so heartbroken or infuriated by tonight’s Game of Thrones episode that I am not fit company for man nor beast nor readers. So….my thoughts on a strong-willed young woman who also happened to be a Tudor; ah, well, no one’s perfect, right?

On May 13, 1515, Henry VIII’s younger sister Mary Tudor wed the man she loved, Charles Brandon. In October of 1514, the 18 year old princess had been wed against her will to the 52 year old French king, Louis XII. To secure her consent to the marriage, Brother Henry promised her that she could choose her next husband if she outlived Louis, as seemed likely. As it happened, the marriage lasted less than three months; he died in January 1515, with gossip having it that he’d worn himself out in the bedchamber with his beautiful young bride. (This would be a great plot device in a mystery novel; young woman kills her aging rich husband with a weapon impossible for police to detect—sex.) Mary was now free to wed the man she loved, her brother’s friend, Charles Brandon. But she did not trust Henry to keep his promise and so she wed Charles while still in France and presented her irate brother with a fait accompli. An astute judge of character, that girl. If Mary were able to watch cable television in the Afterlife, she’d have been astonished by the Showtime series, The Tudors, in which she was renamed Margaret, the name of her sister, and wed to the King of Portugal, whom she then murdered.