Sharon Kay Penman's Blog, page 20
December 29, 2018
Murder in God's House
December 29th was the date of one of the most shocking events of the Middle Ages, the murder of Thomas Becket in his own cathedral. Henry’s angry, heedless words had set it in motion and he would pay a high price for his careless rage, Becket’s death casting a shadow across his reputation, stirring up all sorts of trouble with the Church, and probably causing Henry some personal grief himself, for it was said of him that once he loved, he never entirely turned his affections away from that person. I think he likely mourned the Becket he remembered, the friend who’d been as close as a brother. I was originally planning to post a scene from Becket’s death in Time and Chance, but decided instead to go with Henry’s penance scene the following year at Canterbury Cathedral. Humbled and shaken by the rebellion of his own queen and sons, he made a spectacular act of contrition, submitting to a flogging by the monks and then holding an all-night vigil by the slain archbishop’s tomb.
Devil’s Brood, pages 246-247
* * *
He’d not been able to invoke the saint’s presence, but it was easier to imagine Thomas’s earthly spirit lurking in the shadows, watching his abasement with sardonic amusement. (omission) Had the man he’d known and trusted and loved ever truly existed? Or had he been a fiction from the very first? Henry desperately wanted to know the answer, an answer only Thomas Becket could give him.
“It is just the two of us now, Thomas. No one else can hear our secrets, so why not talk to pass the time? We have hours to go till dawn, time enough for honesty if nothing else.”
(omission)
He waited, heaving a sigh that echoed in the stillness. “Come, Thomas, hold up your part of the conversation. You need not do anything dramatic, like loosing a thunderbolt or performing one of your miracles. But at the least, you could extinguish a few candles to show you are paying attention. Surely that is not too much to ask?
(omission)
Henry leaned forward, rested his head upon his drawn-up knees. He was either burning up with fever or losing his mind. “Sancte Thoma,” he mumbled, “requiescat in pace.” But there was as much pain as mockery in his voice, and when he looked up, he saw the crypt through a haze of hot tears. “Do you know why I did not grieve for you when you died, Thomas? Because I’d already done my grieving. I trusted you, I had faith in you, I loved you more than my own brother. And then you turned on me. But it need not have been that way. You could have served both me and the Almighty, and what a partnership we could have forged, what we could not have done together!”
(omission)
His tears were falling faster now, but there was no one to see them. “I am truly and grievously sorry that our paths led us to this place, this night. I do mourn you, Thomas. But do I think you are a saint? God’s truth, I do not know. You are the only one who can answer that question, my lord archbishop. We both know you could never resist a challenge. So take it up. Prove my doubts are unfounded. Prove me wrong.”
Dropping to his knees, he winced at the pain that action caused his fevered, battered body. “St Thomas,” he said in a low, husky voice, “guard my realm.”
* * *
And Becket did, at least in the eyes of his medieval contemporaries, for at the same time that Henry was praying before his tomb, the Scots king was being captured at the siege of Alnwick, thus effectively ending the rebellion against him.
Henry’s penance scene was one of the most challenging I’ve ever written. It seemed out of character for him, so I had to make sure the scene was firmly rooted in the Middle Ages, reflecting the beliefs of the time. That old axiom that there are no atheists in foxholes can apply equally well to the medieval world. Henry was not one of the more pious of English kings and he was far less superstitious than many of his contemporaries. But he still believed in God and divine punishment and could not be sure that his old friend turned enemy was not a saint, however unlikely it seemed to him. I needed to reveal Henry’s heart and mind in this scene and was not certain I could pull it off. But when I began to write, I was amazed and grateful by how easy it was. It all fell into place perfectly. When I did Henry’s monologue in the crypt, it was almost as if he were whispering in my ear. It turned out to be one of my all-time favorite scenes—and I am happy to report that the feedback from my editors and readers was all I could have hoped for, too. But as I reread the scene prior to posting it on Facebook, it made me realize anew how much I miss writing about Henry and Eleanor and their Devil’s Brood….sigh.
December 22, 2018
INTERVIEW WITH DAVID BLIXT
I can think of no better way to end the year than to do an interview with my fellow writer, David Blixt, about his latest novel and whatever subjects that come up in the course of our conversation; with David, you never know.
Sharon: Here we are again, David.
David: Thanks for inviting me. Though I’m not sure why you had me lay out a plastic drop cloth before I could sit down…
Sharon: Oh, you never know how these interviews will turn out.
David: Ominous. Have you been watching Dexter?
Sharon: Possibly. So David, you have a new novel out. Tell me about it.
David: It’s about the woman who basically invented undercover reporting, Nellie Bly.
Sharon: The title is “What Girls Are Good For”. Provocative, especially today.
David: I know. It was the publisher’s choice, and it makes me nervous. But it’s also totally appropriate. It’s the title of the newspaper article printed by the Pittsburgh Dispatch that made young Elizabeth Cochrane so angry she penned a letter to the editor. That letter was too explosive for them to publish, but they hired her as a reporter for her unique perspective.
Sharon: And what perspective was that?
David: That women who work were not evil or fallen or unwholesome. The article posited that “A woman’s sphere is encompassed by a single word: home.” Saddled with the pen-name Nellie Bly, Elizabeth set out to refute that by humanizing working women. Her first series was called “Factory Girls”, with her showing portraits of these young ladies who all had to work to survive.
Sharon: I take it these weren’t the traditional schoolteachers and nurses.
David: Not at all. She interviewed women who worked in barbwire factories, steel mills, shoe factories, cigar rolling plants, hinge manufacturing. She did so well in humanizing them that management started complaining to the newspaper, and she was sent to report on flower shows instead.
Sharon: That sounds very frustrating.
David: It was. She rebelled by insisting the paper pay her way to Mexico to be their foreign correspondent there. After five months she was chased out for exposing corruption in the Mexican government.
Sharon: I like her already. But you said undercover reporting.
David: Yeah, she was the first of what become known in the newspaper business as the “Stunt Girls”, which was dismissive as hell considering what she achieved. In 1887 she feigned madness and got herself committed to the insane asylum on Blackwell’s Island – Roosevelt Island today. That’s what she’s probably most famous for, along with her trip around the world two years later.
Sharon: How far in her life does “What Girls Are Good For” go?
David: Through the aftermath of the insane asylum exposé. She released her experience in a book, “10 Days In A Madhouse”. But reporting was a little different at the time. She related a lot of events as scenes, not a single narrative. And there’s a great deal she left out, especially the brutal character assassination by a rival newspaper that she had fooled into reporting on her insanity. The whole last third of the novel is the full story of the asylum and the grand jury investigation her story provoked.
Sharon: Was there a particularly hard scene to write?
David: There were two. One is when Nellie’s life is threatened in Mexico. The other was during her stay in the madhouse, her very worst night there, where they tried to dose her with chloral. That was rough, involving a lot of things about her that have only been hinted at to that point.
Sharon: This book feels very timely. When did you start on this?
David: Believe it or not, I started this in April of 2016, before Trump or the #MeToo movement blew up so huge. I was reading about female action stars in the silent film era, and I noted how at least half of the characters they played were based on Nellie Bly. She was even the basis for Lois Lane in Superman comics. I didn’t know much about her, so I looked her up and instantly dropped everything else to focus on her.
Sharon: Speaking of Superman, I remember you’re a fan of comic books. Do you have a writing Kryptonite?
David: Facebook, definitely. Facebook has really slowed my writing output, especially in the current political climate. And I read too much of the news. I like to debate current events and keep informed. It’s important, I think. But it’s also killer for getting momentum in my writing.
Sharon: I’m always asked about writer’s block. I’m sure you are, too. But have you ever gotten reader’s block?
David: Oh yes! I mostly read research these days, not for fun. And when I do, I binge something entirely outside of historical fiction. I went through the entire Dresden Files series this summer – a wizard living in Chicago, very noir. What I’m trying to be better about is reading books by fellow authors in my field. I have a project I’m working on that hopefully will help with that.
Sharon: Can you tell us more?
David: Can’t talk about it yet.
Sharon: Onward, then. How many unfinished books do you have at present?
David: Six or seven. Plus the Nellie Bly sequel I haven’t started yet.
Sharon: Seems a wee bit fickle. Have you considered choosing the one that attracts you most? Or the one I want you to write next? Can we expect a fifth Star-Cross’d novel soon?
David: I’m working on it. But “soon” might be optimistic. There are a couple other novels I’ll have finished before that one. But all the research is done, and I’ve started it. And I’ve been recording the audiobooks. The Master Of Verona came out last year, and Voice Of The Falconer is coming in December.
Sharon: I adore those books. Has it been fun revisiting them?
David: Not only fun, but helpful as I plot future storylines. I’ve been reminded of threads I hinted at – especially a connection to the Holy Roman Emperor that is going to help the next novel a lot.
Sharon: One of the many things we share is a passion for medieval stories. Is that home base for you?
David: Yes and no. The majority of the stories I have in mind take place somewhere between 1300 and 1600. I chalk it up to my three decades of performing Shakespeare. But I’m also attracted to people. Nellie Bly is a great example. I want to write about fascinating people of different eras to illuminate our own.
Sharon: You mention Shakespeare. Are we getting another Will & Kit novel?
David: Absolutely. It’s going to be called “Fire At Will”, and it will be Shakespeare and Marlowe accidentally causing the Spanish Armada attack.
Sharon: You have three series going at present, and I understand you’ll have another with Nellie Bly. Do you want each series to stand on its own, or are you trying to build a body of work with connections between each book?
David: I’m placing ties in all of them, though very tenuous ones. In What Girls Are Good For, it’s only a couple Shakespeare and Dante references. But there’s a coin that will show up in all the series at some point. And I like to drop references to other works of historical fiction, like The Name Of The Rose, when characters overlap. I’m actually looking to find a way to tie the next Star-Cross’d book to your novel The Reckoning.
Sharon: Do you do that often, hide secrets in your books that only a few people will find?
David: I sprinkled anagrams through all the Star-Cross’d novels. I call out friends all the time. There’s a sword maker in Chicago named Neil Massey. I put him in a couple novels for fun as the armorer for my characters – things like that. I amuse myself, mostly.
Sharon: I’m glad to hear you amuse someone.
David: Oh Sharon. You know you’re amused by me.
Sharon: Not in the way you think. Remember the drop cloth.
David: Right. Well, look at the time— (rises to go)
Sharon: Smart lad. You’re lucky I enjoy your writing. Also that you’re a decent actor with a very nice family.
David: That gets me by in a lot of places.
Sharon: Say hello to Jan and the kids, by the way.
David: Hello to Jan and the kids, by the way.
(Sharon lifts crossbow from the wall as David flees for his life)
Sharon: Damn. Should have put the plastic down by the door…
It is obvious that David and I are good friends; either that, or we were drinking when we did this interview. Seriously, I am always happy to be able to alert my readers about a new David Blixt novel. His Star-Cross’d series, set in medieval Italy, is mesmerizing. It has some of the most compelling characters I’ve ever encountered between the pages of a book and they are people who actually lived! I always thought the Plantagenets led highly improbable lives. Well, even a swash-buckling soldier king like the Lionheart is cast into the shade by Cangrande della Scala, who ruled Verona in 14th century Italy and whose adventures read like fiction—but they are not. He was an acclaimed battle commander, a shrewd politician—think of him as Machiavelli’s role model—a patron of the celebrated poet Dante; he even managed to get a role in Boccaccio’s Decameron! You can meet him in The Master of Verona and David’s subsequent books. And for a change of pace, try his hilarious spoof about the young Will Shakespeare, Her Majesty’s Will. For me, it will be Nellie Bly and What Girls are Good For. Below is a link to David’s website; when you see all he’s accomplished, you may wonder if he has a clone chained up in the basement, and I would not put it past him. Did I mention that he is also a gifted actor and playwright and skilled in the use of medieval swords and rapiers? He always denies those rumors that in his spare time he leaps tall buildings at a single bound and is faster than a speeding bullet. The jury is still out on that one.
December 22, 2018
December 21, 2018
Who needed marital advice more than the wives of Henry VIII?
I was going through past posts and came upon one that one of my readers shared with us, a satiric column purporting to offer marital advice to the six wives of the Tudor Bluebeard. I thought it was amusing and since it was posted more than three years ago, I assume that many of you never read it and those who did have probably forgotten it. Besides, it gives me an opportunity to take another shot at Henry. So here it is.
. http://the-toast.net/2015/11/11/unsol...
December 19, 2018
A free book--and it's a good one!
December 17, 2018
York's spectacular Monk Bar
Most of you are probably more familiar with Micklegate Bar, for after the Duke of York and his teenage son Edmund had been slain at the battle of Wakefield, their heads were mounted on Micklegate Bar, grisly trophies of a Lancastrian victory that would prove very fleeting and very costly. That shocks modern sensibilities, but medievals became inured to such sights. I remember reading a chronicle in which it was reported that the citizens of Coventry were complaining about the heads of rebels mounted above the city’s main gate. But they were not repulsed; they were annoyed because one of the heads had not been properly attached and it kept plummeting down, sometimes hitting carts and passersby.
December 15, 2018
"Ah, God that the sea would cover the land!"
I am sure other events of historical significance occurred on December 11th, but for me, everything else is overshadowed by what happened at twilight on that frigid December day in 1282, the death of Llywelyn ap Gruffydd, the great Welsh prince whom the Welsh would remember as “Ein Llyw Olaf,” translated as “Our Last Leader.”
The Reckoning, page 534. Llywelyn has been found by English soldiers who are jubilant upon recognizing him, knowing how richly they’d be rewarded if they could deliver him alive into the English king’s hands.
* * *
Another of the soldiers was coming back. “Here, Martin, put this about him.”
Martin took the blanket. “He’s in a bad way, Fulk,” he murmured, as if Llywelyn ought not to hear. Fulk picked up the lantern, and swore under his breath at the sight of the blood-soaked snow.
“Christ,” he said, and then, to Llywelyn, almost fiercely, “You hold on, hear? We’re going to get you to a doctor, for the king wants you alive!”
Llywelyn gazed up at him, marveling. “Indeed,” he said, “God forbid that I should disoblige the English king by dying.” It was only when he saw that Fulk and Martin were uncomprehending that he realized he’d lapsed into Welsh. But he made no effort to summon back his store of Norman-French. A man ought to die with his own language echoing in his ears.
The English soldiers were discussing his wound in troubled tones. But their voices seemed to be coming now from a distance, growing fainter and fainter until they no longer reached Llywelyn. He heard only the slowing sound of his heartbeat, and he opened his eyes, looked up at the darkening sky.
* * *
I believe I’ve told this story before, for the memory remains very vivid to me even after so many years. I was driving along a mountain road in Wales, thinking about how I would write Llywelyn’s death scene. Such scenes are always challenging, as you’d imagine. Various ideas had come to me, only to be discarded. Suddenly I could hear a voice saying: A man ought to die with his own language echoing in his ears. I don’t really believe Llywelyn whispered his wishes in my ear. I know the voice was in my head. But it seemed so clear, so real, that for just a moment, I wondered….I will give the last word, though, to the Welsh bard, Gruffydd ab yr Ynad Goch, whose haunting lament for his slain prince has the power to tear away time’s veil and share with us the despair, the shock, and the raw pain of Llywelyn’s countrymen: “Ah, God, that the sea would cover the land! What is left us that we should linger?”
December 10, 2018
Random acts of kindness
https://www.usatoday.com/story/travel...
December 8, 2018
Christmas songs--the good, the bad, and the ugly
As Christmas approaches, we usually have a discussion of Christmas music, posting about the songs we like the most and those we loathe. So I’ll get us started today. One of my favorites is What Child is This, because it is set to the music of Greensleeves, one of my best-loved songs, followed by Christmas—Sarajevo by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra. I enjoy listening to The Little Drummer Boy, in large measure because my dad loved it and I think of him whenever I hear it. Along the same lines, I was never a fan of The Twelve Days of Christmas, but I have learned to like it simply because it was my mom’s favorite Christmas song. I stop whatever I am doing to listen to I’ll be Home for Christmas, even though I think it is one of the saddest songs of the season; I interpret it to be a lament for bygone days and loved ones now dead. Who does not like Silent Night? I am not normally a fan of novelty Christmas songs, though I do like Rudolph; after all, he prevails over the bullies in the end! I like Silver Bells and Mele Kalikimaka. I once lived in Hawaii and am still proud that greeting can roll trippingly over my tongue; Hawaiian is a beautiful language. I also have fond memories of decorating a corn plant with big red bows for our Christmas tree and going to the beach on Waikiki on Christmas Day. There are more, of course, that I really like. And then there are the clunkers, the ones I’d ban from the airwaves forever if I ever become Dictator of the World. The version of Santa, Baby by Madonna sets my teeth on edge. I don’t like the song that turns “Christmasing” into a verb—ugh. And I absolutely loathe I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus, surely the most obnoxious Christmas song of all time. It always sounds smarmy to me, but I’ve even heard versions where the bratty kid plans to blackmail Mom, making her pay for his silence.
Okay…..your turn, guys. What holiday songs do you love to hear and which ones affect your nerves like chalk on a blackboard?
December 6, 2018
A medieval December
December 1st was not a lucky day for the following people. On this date in 1135, King Henry I died, a death that would set off nineteen wretched years for the English people, a time when they said “Christ and his saints slept.” Apparently, the story that he died of “a surfeit of lampreys” may just be a legend; too bad, for I rather liked that one. He did, however, die after feasting upon lampreys, which his doctors had forbidden.
Also on December 1st, 1170, Thomas Becket returned to Canterbury after a six year exile in France. He wasted no time in infuriating his king again, and the clock began ticking toward his desired martyrdom on December 29th. Can I prove he sought martyrdom? No, but as a former lawyer, I think I could make a convincing case based on the evidence—his insistence upon excommunicating the Archbishop of York and the bishops of London and Salisbury, knowing full well that he’d be flinging a torch into the hayrick of Henry’s Angevin temper; his refusal to compromise; then his refusal to flee from the four knights who would slay him, even though his monks, aware that he was in great danger, pleaded with him to do so. Instead, he confronted and taunted the knights, and so gained immortality for himself and put Henry in an impossible position. I can’t say he anticipated being made a saint, but it may have crossed his mind, knowing how shocked Christendom would be by the murder of an archbishop in his own cathedral. I doubt that he’d have been pleased that Henry managed to wriggle out of the trap and his killers were subjected only to the penance of a pilgrimage. And since there is no evidence that Becket had an appreciation for irony, he probably would not have been amused that the reason his killers escaped punishment was because he’d refused to accept Henry’s attempt to reform the law with the Constitutions of Clarendon. As I had Henry say in Time and Chance, “The ultimate absurdity of this, Ranulf, is that their crime is one the Church would deny me the right to punish. Thomas insisted unto his final breath that only the Church could judge the offenses of men in holy orders and any crimes committed against them.” Since all the Angevins had a strong sense of irony, we can safely say that Henry took some grim amusement from that.
And on December 1st, 1235, Isabella, the daughter of King John and Isabelle d’Angouleme, sister of Henry III, died in childbirth at the age of twenty-seven; the baby died, too. She’d been wed six years earlier to Frederick II, the brilliant, controversial Holy Roman Emperor, and had given him two children. Frederick was said to be fond of his beautiful young English wife, but her brother Henry was not happy that she was kept so secluded, rarely appearing in public. We do not know how Isabella felt about any of this--the match with Frederick or his harem or the luxurious, isolated life she led as his empress. Women’s voices were rarely recorded throughout most of history.
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