Sharon Kay Penman's Blog, page 37
January 10, 2017
An elusive queen
Here is a catch-up post for December; I initially posted it three years ago, but am counting on the fact that most of your memories are as unreliable as mine.
Richard I’s queen, Berengaria, died on December 23rd, 1230, at about age 60. She was buried at L’Epau, the abbey she founded during her long widowhood. As I’ve said at other times, I do not think history has been fair to Berengaria, faulting her for not being another Eleanor of Aquitaine and not giving her enough credit for the quiet courage she displayed on crusade and during her long struggle with her brother-in-law, John, who treated her rather shabbily after Richard’s death. A good example of how dismissive historians can be is a comment by Elizabeth Hallam, who has written her current entry in the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Ms. Hallam reports that chroniclers described her as beautiful and prudent, but then adds that Richard of Devizes’s snide comment that she was more prudent than pretty is more convincing. Yet Richard of Devizes never laid eyes upon Berengaria, whereas Ambroise, who was far more complimentary, did. So why does she give greater credence to Richard of Devizes? Because he was snarkier? I’ve said this before, too, that I see her as a young woman who was dealt a bad hand and played it as best she could. But she remains an elusive figure, an elegant ghost who did not share her secrets and left few footprints in the sands of history. At least she has a street named after her in Le Mans.
Richard I’s queen, Berengaria, died on December 23rd, 1230, at about age 60. She was buried at L’Epau, the abbey she founded during her long widowhood. As I’ve said at other times, I do not think history has been fair to Berengaria, faulting her for not being another Eleanor of Aquitaine and not giving her enough credit for the quiet courage she displayed on crusade and during her long struggle with her brother-in-law, John, who treated her rather shabbily after Richard’s death. A good example of how dismissive historians can be is a comment by Elizabeth Hallam, who has written her current entry in the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Ms. Hallam reports that chroniclers described her as beautiful and prudent, but then adds that Richard of Devizes’s snide comment that she was more prudent than pretty is more convincing. Yet Richard of Devizes never laid eyes upon Berengaria, whereas Ambroise, who was far more complimentary, did. So why does she give greater credence to Richard of Devizes? Because he was snarkier? I’ve said this before, too, that I see her as a young woman who was dealt a bad hand and played it as best she could. But she remains an elusive figure, an elegant ghost who did not share her secrets and left few footprints in the sands of history. At least she has a street named after her in Le Mans.
January 9, 2017
Epiphany occurrences
I hope all my Facebook friends and readers came through the storms okay; this weekend, most of us in the US were at ground zero, with flooding on the West Coast, snow and flooding in the South, and snow and blizzards in the mid-Atlantic states and New England. We got eight inches of snow here, but it could have been much worse. The Weather Channel says 49 of the 50 states had snow on the ground—and no, it is not the one you’d expect; the snowless state is Florida, not Hawaii, which had snow capping its mountains on the Big Island. Now to continue catching up on my historical posts. Oh, yes, and go, Green Bay!
January 6th was Epiphany, an important medieval holiday, and a busy day, historically speaking.
On this date in 1066, Harold Godwinson was crowned King of England. His reign would be a brief one, cut short by William the Conqueror at the battle of Hastings. Helen Hollick has written an interesting novel about Harold, which was published in the UK as Harold the King, but was published in the US under the title, I am the Chosen King. Maybe the publisher worried that American readers wouldn’t know there was a King Harold?
January 1169. Henry II and Thomas Becket met at Montmiral in an attempt to reconcile their differences, at the urgings of the French king, Louis. It did not go well, for once again Becket qualified his submission by adding “saving the Honour of God.” Since Henry was convinced that whenever Becket did not agree with a royal act, he’d declare it contrary to the Honour of God, this was not acceptable to him. He was eloquent enough to convince their audience, even the French king, who asked Becket, in unwitting irony, if he wished to be more than a saint. See page 392 of Time and Chance for this scene.
On January 6th, 1205, Philip of Swabia (the only good Hohenstaufen), youngest brother of Richard’s nemesis, Heinrich von Hohenstaufen, was crowned King of the Romans for the second time. He’d originally been crowned in 1198, but the Germans were split between him and Richard’s nephew Otto, who’d also been elected. Philip would eventually prevail over Otto, only to be tragically assassinated in 1208. Philip seems to have been an admirable individual, the anti-Heinrich, if you will, and if only I spoke German, I’d have loved to give him a book of his own.
Another ruler was crowned on January 6th, this time in 1286, but he could not be more unlike the upstanding, sympathetic Philip--Philippe le Bel, or Philippe IV, King of France. Philippe was a nasty piece of work, persecuting the Jews and Lombards and bringing about the destruction of the Templars.
On January 6th, 1367, Richard II was born. He became king at age 10, and his reign was neither happy nor successful. Sadly for him, his finest moment occurred at age 14 during the Peasant’s Revolt; from there, it was all downhill.
On January 6th, 1412, Joan of Arc was born—maybe.
And of course it is time for the Tudors to crash the party again. On this date in 1540, Henry VIII wed wife #4, Anne of Cleves. I think we can safely say that neither bride nor groom enjoyed their wedding night. My sympathies are naturally with Anne.
Lastly, this was not medieval, but another important wedding took place on this date in 1759, beginning a marriage that was much happier than Henry and Anne’s, when George Washington wed the wealthy young widow, Martha Custis.
January 6th was Epiphany, an important medieval holiday, and a busy day, historically speaking.
On this date in 1066, Harold Godwinson was crowned King of England. His reign would be a brief one, cut short by William the Conqueror at the battle of Hastings. Helen Hollick has written an interesting novel about Harold, which was published in the UK as Harold the King, but was published in the US under the title, I am the Chosen King. Maybe the publisher worried that American readers wouldn’t know there was a King Harold?
January 1169. Henry II and Thomas Becket met at Montmiral in an attempt to reconcile their differences, at the urgings of the French king, Louis. It did not go well, for once again Becket qualified his submission by adding “saving the Honour of God.” Since Henry was convinced that whenever Becket did not agree with a royal act, he’d declare it contrary to the Honour of God, this was not acceptable to him. He was eloquent enough to convince their audience, even the French king, who asked Becket, in unwitting irony, if he wished to be more than a saint. See page 392 of Time and Chance for this scene.
On January 6th, 1205, Philip of Swabia (the only good Hohenstaufen), youngest brother of Richard’s nemesis, Heinrich von Hohenstaufen, was crowned King of the Romans for the second time. He’d originally been crowned in 1198, but the Germans were split between him and Richard’s nephew Otto, who’d also been elected. Philip would eventually prevail over Otto, only to be tragically assassinated in 1208. Philip seems to have been an admirable individual, the anti-Heinrich, if you will, and if only I spoke German, I’d have loved to give him a book of his own.
Another ruler was crowned on January 6th, this time in 1286, but he could not be more unlike the upstanding, sympathetic Philip--Philippe le Bel, or Philippe IV, King of France. Philippe was a nasty piece of work, persecuting the Jews and Lombards and bringing about the destruction of the Templars.
On January 6th, 1367, Richard II was born. He became king at age 10, and his reign was neither happy nor successful. Sadly for him, his finest moment occurred at age 14 during the Peasant’s Revolt; from there, it was all downhill.
On January 6th, 1412, Joan of Arc was born—maybe.
And of course it is time for the Tudors to crash the party again. On this date in 1540, Henry VIII wed wife #4, Anne of Cleves. I think we can safely say that neither bride nor groom enjoyed their wedding night. My sympathies are naturally with Anne.
Lastly, this was not medieval, but another important wedding took place on this date in 1759, beginning a marriage that was much happier than Henry and Anne’s, when George Washington wed the wealthy young widow, Martha Custis.
January 5, 2017
January 5th in history
I hope the new year is getting off to a good start for all of my Facebook friends and readers. A cartoon in my local paper aptly summed up the almost universal opinion of 2016. It showed the old year popping up in Hell and explaining to the Devil, “Well, it was either this or the Witness Protection Program.” Now on to January 5th, which was a busy day in history.
Richard, Earl of Cornwall and later Holy Roman Emperor, younger brother of Henry III and a major character in Falls the Shadow, was born on this date in 1209.
In 1463, the French poet Francois Villon, as celebrated for his poetry as he was notorious for his wild life, was banished from his beloved Paris for 10 years. He was a thief, once was sentenced to be hanged for killing a priest in a tavern brawl, and ran up quite a “rap sheet” in his 32 years. We actually don’t know how old he was when he died, but he was 32 when he disappeared from Paris and was never heard from again.
In 1465, another French poet died. Unlike Francois Villon, who’d been born into poverty, Charles, the Duke of Orleans, came from the upper classes. His first wife was a queen, his cousin Isabelle of Valois, widow of Richard II; Isabelle had been a child bride, but she remained very loyal to Richard and refused to consider a marriage to the future Henry V, son of the man she saw as a usurper, Henry IV. Henry IV eventually allowed her to return to France, where she wed Charles, but sadly, died in childbirth, at only 19. Charles fought at Agincourt and was found alive after the battle, buried under a pile of bodies. He would spend the next 25 years as a prisoner of the English. He was treated fairly leniently, but 25 years! During his captivity, he wrote most of his poems, which understandably had a melancholy tone. He was finally freed in 1440, returned to France, and wed for the third time. He appeared in the classic novel, In a Dark Wood Wandering, by Hella Haasse, and he is also a major character in Margaret Frazer’s mystery, The Maiden’s Tale.
On January 5th, 1477, Charles, Duke of Burgundy, was slain at the battle of Nancy. His body was not found until days later, partially eaten by wolves or other scavengers. Charles was the husband of Margaret of York, sister to Edward IV and Richard III, and appears in one scene in Sunne. He was known as Charles the Bold or Charles the Rash. I favor the latter, for he had a talent for making enemies and showed increasingly poor judgment in his last years.
On January 5th, 1589, the controversial French queen, Catherine de Medici, died, at age 69. Catherine is given a three-dimensional portrayal in C.W. Gortner’s novel, The Confessions of Catherine de Medici.
Lastly, on January 5th, 1592, the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan was born. His fame rests today on the splendid mausoleum he built as a tribute to his beloved wife, Muntaz-I-Mahal. We know it today as the Taj Mahal, surely one of the most beautiful buildings in the world. Shah Jahan had planned to build an identical tomb for himself, only in black marble, but his son did not inherit his father’s romantic streak and he did not honor Shah’s dying wishes.
Richard, Earl of Cornwall and later Holy Roman Emperor, younger brother of Henry III and a major character in Falls the Shadow, was born on this date in 1209.
In 1463, the French poet Francois Villon, as celebrated for his poetry as he was notorious for his wild life, was banished from his beloved Paris for 10 years. He was a thief, once was sentenced to be hanged for killing a priest in a tavern brawl, and ran up quite a “rap sheet” in his 32 years. We actually don’t know how old he was when he died, but he was 32 when he disappeared from Paris and was never heard from again.
In 1465, another French poet died. Unlike Francois Villon, who’d been born into poverty, Charles, the Duke of Orleans, came from the upper classes. His first wife was a queen, his cousin Isabelle of Valois, widow of Richard II; Isabelle had been a child bride, but she remained very loyal to Richard and refused to consider a marriage to the future Henry V, son of the man she saw as a usurper, Henry IV. Henry IV eventually allowed her to return to France, where she wed Charles, but sadly, died in childbirth, at only 19. Charles fought at Agincourt and was found alive after the battle, buried under a pile of bodies. He would spend the next 25 years as a prisoner of the English. He was treated fairly leniently, but 25 years! During his captivity, he wrote most of his poems, which understandably had a melancholy tone. He was finally freed in 1440, returned to France, and wed for the third time. He appeared in the classic novel, In a Dark Wood Wandering, by Hella Haasse, and he is also a major character in Margaret Frazer’s mystery, The Maiden’s Tale.
On January 5th, 1477, Charles, Duke of Burgundy, was slain at the battle of Nancy. His body was not found until days later, partially eaten by wolves or other scavengers. Charles was the husband of Margaret of York, sister to Edward IV and Richard III, and appears in one scene in Sunne. He was known as Charles the Bold or Charles the Rash. I favor the latter, for he had a talent for making enemies and showed increasingly poor judgment in his last years.
On January 5th, 1589, the controversial French queen, Catherine de Medici, died, at age 69. Catherine is given a three-dimensional portrayal in C.W. Gortner’s novel, The Confessions of Catherine de Medici.
Lastly, on January 5th, 1592, the Mughal emperor Shah Jahan was born. His fame rests today on the splendid mausoleum he built as a tribute to his beloved wife, Muntaz-I-Mahal. We know it today as the Taj Mahal, surely one of the most beautiful buildings in the world. Shah Jahan had planned to build an identical tomb for himself, only in black marble, but his son did not inherit his father’s romantic streak and he did not honor Shah’s dying wishes.
January 2, 2017
Battle of Wakefield Speculations
I hope all of you had an enjoyable New Year’s Eve and I really, really hope that 2017 will be a better year for all of us.
December 30th was a dreadful day for the House of York, for on this date in 1460, the Duke of York rashly ventured out from Sandal Castle to confront a Lancastrian force that lured him into a trap. The result was a devastating defeat for the Yorkists. The duke died on the field, the Earl of Salisbury was executed after the battle, and the most controversial killing occurred on Wakefield Bridge when the duke’s seventeen year old son, Edmund, was slain by Lord Clifford. Their heads were placed on York’s Micklegate Bar, but the Lancastrians did not have long to savor their triumph. Just three months later, Edward of York won a great victory against them at Towton, said to be the bloodiest battle ever fought on English soil, a victory that secured the crown for the young commander, who was still a month shy of his nineteenth birthday on that snowy March day. Think about that; what an amazing accomplishment for someone so young. Military historians are constantly praising battle commanders like the Lionheart, Edward I, and Henry V. But Edward of York was a brilliant general, too, and does not always get enough credit for that.
We often discuss History’s What Ifs here. Well, I think the battle fought outside Sandal Castle presents a very interesting What If. After they’d fled Ludlow Castle before the advancing Lancastrian army in 1159, the Duke of York set out for Ireland, taking with him his second son, Edmund. The Earl of Warwick chose exile in Calais and the duke’s eldest son, Edward, accompanied him. If Edward had been the one to remain with his father, then he would have been at Sandal Castle on that cold December day when the duke made his fateful, foolish decision to leave the castle and confront the Lancastrian force that had ambushed his foraging party. How would Edward’s presence there have changed history?
The simple answer would be that he’d have died instead of his younger brother. But I am not convinced that would have happened. Edward would soon prove himself to be a superb battle commander, as I mention above, a far better general than either his father or his cousin Warwick. Edward was also supremely self-confident, even at a very young age. And lastly, Edward had what Napoleon considered critical in a general—luck; when told that a general was skilled, he would always say, “But is he lucky?” Edward’s luck would become legendary and to his enemies it must have seemed as if he had as many lives as a cat. So that legendary luck may have enabled him to escape capture during the battle of Wakefield. It is even possible that there would not have been a battle had Edward been there. He would have understood the risk they’d be taking in leaving the safety of the castle, and he would have had the self-assurance to do what Edmund could not---speak up and argue against it. Since we also know that Edward could charm the birds out of the trees or a nun into bed with him if he so chose, his argument might well have carried the day. All speculation, of course, but fun. I can only say for a certainty that I hated murdering Edmund on Wakefield Bridge; he was my first victim and I did not yet know that all of my books would be so blood-soaked and happy endings as rare as unicorns.
December 30th was a dreadful day for the House of York, for on this date in 1460, the Duke of York rashly ventured out from Sandal Castle to confront a Lancastrian force that lured him into a trap. The result was a devastating defeat for the Yorkists. The duke died on the field, the Earl of Salisbury was executed after the battle, and the most controversial killing occurred on Wakefield Bridge when the duke’s seventeen year old son, Edmund, was slain by Lord Clifford. Their heads were placed on York’s Micklegate Bar, but the Lancastrians did not have long to savor their triumph. Just three months later, Edward of York won a great victory against them at Towton, said to be the bloodiest battle ever fought on English soil, a victory that secured the crown for the young commander, who was still a month shy of his nineteenth birthday on that snowy March day. Think about that; what an amazing accomplishment for someone so young. Military historians are constantly praising battle commanders like the Lionheart, Edward I, and Henry V. But Edward of York was a brilliant general, too, and does not always get enough credit for that.
We often discuss History’s What Ifs here. Well, I think the battle fought outside Sandal Castle presents a very interesting What If. After they’d fled Ludlow Castle before the advancing Lancastrian army in 1159, the Duke of York set out for Ireland, taking with him his second son, Edmund. The Earl of Warwick chose exile in Calais and the duke’s eldest son, Edward, accompanied him. If Edward had been the one to remain with his father, then he would have been at Sandal Castle on that cold December day when the duke made his fateful, foolish decision to leave the castle and confront the Lancastrian force that had ambushed his foraging party. How would Edward’s presence there have changed history?
The simple answer would be that he’d have died instead of his younger brother. But I am not convinced that would have happened. Edward would soon prove himself to be a superb battle commander, as I mention above, a far better general than either his father or his cousin Warwick. Edward was also supremely self-confident, even at a very young age. And lastly, Edward had what Napoleon considered critical in a general—luck; when told that a general was skilled, he would always say, “But is he lucky?” Edward’s luck would become legendary and to his enemies it must have seemed as if he had as many lives as a cat. So that legendary luck may have enabled him to escape capture during the battle of Wakefield. It is even possible that there would not have been a battle had Edward been there. He would have understood the risk they’d be taking in leaving the safety of the castle, and he would have had the self-assurance to do what Edmund could not---speak up and argue against it. Since we also know that Edward could charm the birds out of the trees or a nun into bed with him if he so chose, his argument might well have carried the day. All speculation, of course, but fun. I can only say for a certainty that I hated murdering Edmund on Wakefield Bridge; he was my first victim and I did not yet know that all of my books would be so blood-soaked and happy endings as rare as unicorns.
December 31, 2016
Putting on the Ritz
Since I was unable to wish you all a Merry Christmas, I wanted to be sure to wish everyone a Happy (and safe) New Year. It will take me weeks to catch up on all the December historical events, some of them very significant, at least to medieval nerds like us. But I won’t play catch-up tonight. Instead I am posting a link that I have shared in the past. But that was several years ago and it is well worth repeating. I have many new Facebook friends since then who may not have seen it. It is, quite simply, the best Flash-mob ever. Take a few minutes to watch as these young Moscow dancers assemble to put on a dazzling performance of Putting on the Ritz, one that even involves a new bride. The sheer delight on the faces of the audience is in itself delightful; I cannot imagine anyone watching this without smiling.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FNXd3w...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FNXd3w...
December 29, 2016
Post-Christmas report
I feel as if I’ve been away for years instead of weeks. I really missed you guys; your interactions with one another are always interesting and often very funny. I’d expect no less from people who have such good taste in books, of course!
I have decided that if I want a character in one of my books to suffer, I will let him or her be stricken with a pinched nerve. I will reserve that only for those who truly deserve it, though, for the medievals did not have the benefit of modern pain meds or, in my case, the prednisone that finally succeeded in relieving the swelling and inflammation and therefore the pain. There are disadvantages of living in the 21st century, but not when it comes to medical care. I am very happy to report that I am now well on the mend and look forward to a new year in which Facebook and Goodreads are once more part of my daily routine.
I think most people will be very glad to see the last of 2016, for numerous reasons. It was a year of losses; too many deaths, too often the result of terrorism or tragedy. Many of us suffered personal losses and there was also the loss of people we may not have known, but who were worthy of admiration, people who made a difference and who will be missed. This week it was Carrie Fisher, a woman who died too young, a woman of courage and compassion. Her willingness to discuss her struggles with bi-polar disorder was very brave and I do not doubt that she helped so many just by her candor alone, by her refusal to be ashamed of it. She was a worthy role model and set an example that I hope will not be forgotten.
And on December 29th in 1170, a momentous event occurred, one that rocked the Angevin world when Henry’s angry, heedless words sent four knights to Canterbury, where they assassinated Thomas Becket in his own cathedral. Becket seems to have had a yearning for martyrdom, for he went out of his way to infuriate Henry and had several opportunities to escape the killers, who seem to have been a bit hesitant at first to murder an archbishop. Henry did not say “Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?” but his actual words were enough to set the tragedy in motion; to find out what he really said, read the scene in Time and Chance! I admit, at the risk of sounding ghoulish, that I enjoyed writing the assassination scene. It was high drama and writers are all hooked on that, whether we are willing to admit it or not. And I love having eye-witness accounts to draw upon, as I did in Lionheart. Several of the men who were present when Becket was slain put pen to parchment and described the scene in compelling detail, even down to reporting the dialogue between the archbishop and his killers.
I have decided that if I want a character in one of my books to suffer, I will let him or her be stricken with a pinched nerve. I will reserve that only for those who truly deserve it, though, for the medievals did not have the benefit of modern pain meds or, in my case, the prednisone that finally succeeded in relieving the swelling and inflammation and therefore the pain. There are disadvantages of living in the 21st century, but not when it comes to medical care. I am very happy to report that I am now well on the mend and look forward to a new year in which Facebook and Goodreads are once more part of my daily routine.
I think most people will be very glad to see the last of 2016, for numerous reasons. It was a year of losses; too many deaths, too often the result of terrorism or tragedy. Many of us suffered personal losses and there was also the loss of people we may not have known, but who were worthy of admiration, people who made a difference and who will be missed. This week it was Carrie Fisher, a woman who died too young, a woman of courage and compassion. Her willingness to discuss her struggles with bi-polar disorder was very brave and I do not doubt that she helped so many just by her candor alone, by her refusal to be ashamed of it. She was a worthy role model and set an example that I hope will not be forgotten.
And on December 29th in 1170, a momentous event occurred, one that rocked the Angevin world when Henry’s angry, heedless words sent four knights to Canterbury, where they assassinated Thomas Becket in his own cathedral. Becket seems to have had a yearning for martyrdom, for he went out of his way to infuriate Henry and had several opportunities to escape the killers, who seem to have been a bit hesitant at first to murder an archbishop. Henry did not say “Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?” but his actual words were enough to set the tragedy in motion; to find out what he really said, read the scene in Time and Chance! I admit, at the risk of sounding ghoulish, that I enjoyed writing the assassination scene. It was high drama and writers are all hooked on that, whether we are willing to admit it or not. And I love having eye-witness accounts to draw upon, as I did in Lionheart. Several of the men who were present when Becket was slain put pen to parchment and described the scene in compelling detail, even down to reporting the dialogue between the archbishop and his killers.
December 8, 2016
December 8th in history
The pinched nerve has not surrendered, but it is in retreat, at least for now; it has proven to be very untrustworthy, ambushing me again as soon as I let down my guard. With luck, though, I should be able to start posting again soon.
Sad news tonight of the death of John Glenn, a true American hero. Now back to the past.
December 8th mattered to the Angevins. On this date in 1154, Henry and Eleanor landed in England to claim the crown and begin the Plantagenet dynasty. Henry insisted upon sailing in a savage gale, a very bad habit of his that could not have endeared him to his sailors, courtiers, or his wife. Eleanor must have been especially frustrated when he did this in 1174, for their young children, Joanna and John, sailed with the fleet, and Eleanor, about to begin her long English confinement, had no say in the matter. Henry passed on this insanity gene to son Richard, who attempted to sail from Portsmouth to Barfleur in a storm in May, 1194, so desperate was he to get to Normandy and challenge the French king. The winds were so strong that he was forced to return to Portsmouth, and there he waited for favorable weather, doubtless because Eleanor played the mother card and refused to let him try it again.
Also on December 8th, 1174, the captive Scots King William the Lion was compelled to sign the treaty of Falaise, which was highly favorable to the English. William had no leverage for he was languishing at the time as a captive in one of Henry’s castles. It is always easier to strike a deal with a prisoner,
And Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots and bad decisions, was born on this date in 1542.
Lastly, for those of us who grew up in the age of the Beatles, on December 8, 1980, John Lennon was murdered in New York City by a deranged fan; he was only forty at the time, so the world lost so many years of music.
Sad news tonight of the death of John Glenn, a true American hero. Now back to the past.
December 8th mattered to the Angevins. On this date in 1154, Henry and Eleanor landed in England to claim the crown and begin the Plantagenet dynasty. Henry insisted upon sailing in a savage gale, a very bad habit of his that could not have endeared him to his sailors, courtiers, or his wife. Eleanor must have been especially frustrated when he did this in 1174, for their young children, Joanna and John, sailed with the fleet, and Eleanor, about to begin her long English confinement, had no say in the matter. Henry passed on this insanity gene to son Richard, who attempted to sail from Portsmouth to Barfleur in a storm in May, 1194, so desperate was he to get to Normandy and challenge the French king. The winds were so strong that he was forced to return to Portsmouth, and there he waited for favorable weather, doubtless because Eleanor played the mother card and refused to let him try it again.
Also on December 8th, 1174, the captive Scots King William the Lion was compelled to sign the treaty of Falaise, which was highly favorable to the English. William had no leverage for he was languishing at the time as a captive in one of Henry’s castles. It is always easier to strike a deal with a prisoner,
And Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots and bad decisions, was born on this date in 1542.
Lastly, for those of us who grew up in the age of the Beatles, on December 8, 1980, John Lennon was murdered in New York City by a deranged fan; he was only forty at the time, so the world lost so many years of music.
December 6, 2016
I'm back!
It feels like forever since I was able to post on Facebook and my blog and Goodreads, but I’ve been going through a rough patch, still struggling with that pinched nerve, a very nasty foe. I hope my American friends and readers had a good Thanksgiving. Now that I am feeling a little better, I hope to start posting more regularly again. I do have good news to report. The new Bernard Cornwell book in his spectacular Saxon series is now out in the US; It came out in the UK in October. The title is The Flame-thrower and it is wonderful; he just keeps getting better and better. And the evil entity masquerading as a HP laptop is dead. Yes, Diablo chose the middle of my health crisis to have a major meltdown and his demons could not be exorcised. Because he was still under warranty, HP gave me a replacement computer and I am taking some comfort in imagining Diablo rotting away in some computer landfill; it would have been more satisfying, though, if I’d been able to drive a stake through his heart.
November 20, 2016
November 13th in medieval history
I am sorry for the latest silence, but I am dealing with a pinched nerve and that is as debilitating as it is painful. I hope to be able to start posting again once I am on the mend. If I cannot get back by mid-week, here’s wishing all my US readers and friends a happy Thanksgiving. Meanwhile, here is a repeat post for some November historical happenings that I could copy and paste.
November 13, 1143 was the date of death of Fulk, Count of Anjou and King of Jerusalem, husband to Queen Melisende; I’ve always been interested in this capable, strong-willed woman, the subject of a very good biography by Sharan Newman, Defending the City of God. Fulk died as the result of a gruesome hunting accident. His skull was crushed by the saddle when his horse stumbled and fell on top of him. According to my favorite medieval historian, William of Tyre, “his brains gushed forth from both ears and nostrils.” (I hope no one is reading this while eating.) Fulk lingered in a coma for three days before finally dying. Fulk was, of course, the father of Geoffrey of Anjou and thus the grandfather of Henry II. One of his daughters wed the Count of Flanders and a second daughter was widowed by the sinking of the White Ship and later became Abbess of Fontevrault. By Melisende, he was also the father of two Kings of Jerusalem and was therefore the grandfather of Isabella, who appears in Lionheart.
November 13, 1160 was the wedding date for Louis VII and Adele of Blois, who would later do what his first two wives could not, give him a son. Louis’s second wife had died the month previously, after giving birth to his unfortunate daughter Alys, so he did not have much of a mourning period. By marrying Adele, Louis thus became brother-in-law as well as father-in-law to her brothers, for they were betrothed to his daughters by Eleanor. I had fun doing a scene in Lionheart in which Henri of Champagne tried to explain his convoluted family tree.
And November 13, 1312 was the birthday of the future Edward III. This must have been a very happy day for Edward II and Isabella, who did not have many of them---at least not together.
November 13, 1143 was the date of death of Fulk, Count of Anjou and King of Jerusalem, husband to Queen Melisende; I’ve always been interested in this capable, strong-willed woman, the subject of a very good biography by Sharan Newman, Defending the City of God. Fulk died as the result of a gruesome hunting accident. His skull was crushed by the saddle when his horse stumbled and fell on top of him. According to my favorite medieval historian, William of Tyre, “his brains gushed forth from both ears and nostrils.” (I hope no one is reading this while eating.) Fulk lingered in a coma for three days before finally dying. Fulk was, of course, the father of Geoffrey of Anjou and thus the grandfather of Henry II. One of his daughters wed the Count of Flanders and a second daughter was widowed by the sinking of the White Ship and later became Abbess of Fontevrault. By Melisende, he was also the father of two Kings of Jerusalem and was therefore the grandfather of Isabella, who appears in Lionheart.
November 13, 1160 was the wedding date for Louis VII and Adele of Blois, who would later do what his first two wives could not, give him a son. Louis’s second wife had died the month previously, after giving birth to his unfortunate daughter Alys, so he did not have much of a mourning period. By marrying Adele, Louis thus became brother-in-law as well as father-in-law to her brothers, for they were betrothed to his daughters by Eleanor. I had fun doing a scene in Lionheart in which Henri of Champagne tried to explain his convoluted family tree.
And November 13, 1312 was the birthday of the future Edward III. This must have been a very happy day for Edward II and Isabella, who did not have many of them---at least not together.
November 15, 2016
No hoops of fire
I am posting this on all my Facebook pages and my Goodreads page in the hopes that others will sign this petition. I feel strongly that intelligent social mammals like dolphins and orcas should not be kept in captivity at all; that they would be compelled to jump through hoops of fire is obscene. I don’t know if a petition will help their plight, but it is worth trying.
https://www.change.org/p/sign-free-th...
https://www.change.org/p/sign-free-th...
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