Sharon Kay Penman's Blog, page 49
February 4, 2016
The Lionheart freed at last
This is what I posted several years ago and am repeating now since no one is likely to remember it and that saves me a lot of typing. In Ransom, we see Eleanor at her best, fighting tooth and nail to save her son.
On February 4th, 1194, Richard Lionheart was finally freed from his German captivity after paying an astronomical ransom. He’d been held for one year, six weeks, and three days. But two days earlier, he’d been double-crossed by Heinrich, who announced to the assemblage of German and English lords and prelates that he’d had a new offer from the French king and Richard’s brother John and, with an utter lack of shame, invited Richard to better it.
From A King’s Ransom, Chapter Twenty
* * *
While Richard glanced down at the letters, the Archbishop of Rouen hastily translated Heinrich’s comments for Eleanor. The letters were indeed from Philippe and John and, as Richard read what was being offered and what it could mean for him, his numbed disbelief gave way to despair and then, murderous rage.
His fist clenched around the letters and he flung them to the floor at Heinrich’s feet. But before he could speak, his mother was beside him. “Wait, Richard, wait!” She was clinging to his arm with such urgency that she actually succeeded in pulling him back from the dais. “Look around you,” she said, her voice shaking, but her eyes blazing with green fire. “Look!”
He did and saw at once what she meant. Virtually every German in the hall was staring at Heinrich as if he’d suddenly revealed himself to be the Anti-Christ. Not a word had yet been said, but their expressions of horror and disgust left no doubt as to how they felt about their emperor’s eleventh-hour surprise. “Let them speak first,” Eleanor hissed. “Let the Germans handle this.”
* * *
The Germans did handle it; led by Richard’s friend, the Archbishop-elect of Cologne, they forced Heinrich to honor the original terms for Richard’s release. But Heinrich saved face by insisting that Richard would not be freed unless he did homage to the German emperor. Richard was outraged and refused, but again his mother interceded, convincing him that he had no choice. He was then freed on February 4th, although the forced act of homage left some deep psychic scars. But he’d not have regained his freedom if not for his mother, and to his credit, he realized that. How different the history of the Angevins would have been if Henry had been able to value his queen’s intelligence and political skills as their son did. Henry did not even allow her a say in the governing of her own Aquitaine and that would cost him dearly. Richard entrusted her with his kingdom and she saved it for him.
On February 4th, 1194, Richard Lionheart was finally freed from his German captivity after paying an astronomical ransom. He’d been held for one year, six weeks, and three days. But two days earlier, he’d been double-crossed by Heinrich, who announced to the assemblage of German and English lords and prelates that he’d had a new offer from the French king and Richard’s brother John and, with an utter lack of shame, invited Richard to better it.
From A King’s Ransom, Chapter Twenty
* * *
While Richard glanced down at the letters, the Archbishop of Rouen hastily translated Heinrich’s comments for Eleanor. The letters were indeed from Philippe and John and, as Richard read what was being offered and what it could mean for him, his numbed disbelief gave way to despair and then, murderous rage.
His fist clenched around the letters and he flung them to the floor at Heinrich’s feet. But before he could speak, his mother was beside him. “Wait, Richard, wait!” She was clinging to his arm with such urgency that she actually succeeded in pulling him back from the dais. “Look around you,” she said, her voice shaking, but her eyes blazing with green fire. “Look!”
He did and saw at once what she meant. Virtually every German in the hall was staring at Heinrich as if he’d suddenly revealed himself to be the Anti-Christ. Not a word had yet been said, but their expressions of horror and disgust left no doubt as to how they felt about their emperor’s eleventh-hour surprise. “Let them speak first,” Eleanor hissed. “Let the Germans handle this.”
* * *
The Germans did handle it; led by Richard’s friend, the Archbishop-elect of Cologne, they forced Heinrich to honor the original terms for Richard’s release. But Heinrich saved face by insisting that Richard would not be freed unless he did homage to the German emperor. Richard was outraged and refused, but again his mother interceded, convincing him that he had no choice. He was then freed on February 4th, although the forced act of homage left some deep psychic scars. But he’d not have regained his freedom if not for his mother, and to his credit, he realized that. How different the history of the Angevins would have been if Henry had been able to value his queen’s intelligence and political skills as their son did. Henry did not even allow her a say in the governing of her own Aquitaine and that would cost him dearly. Richard entrusted her with his kingdom and she saved it for him.
February 3, 2016
Land of Shadows
Many of my readers share my enjoyment of Priscilla Royal’s excellent medieval mysteries; she has created such a vivid, realistic world that I am even willing to forgive her Prioress Eleanor for being a supporter of Edward I! I am happy, therefore, to announce that Priscilla’s newest mystery, Land of Shadows, is now out. Here is the Amazon link. http://www.amazon.com/Land-Shadows-Me... I hope to have an interview with Priscilla up on my blog in the near future.
February 2, 2016
A prince's heartbreak
I am making another quick escape while the deadline dragon is napping. Too much happening on this date to ignore. February 2nd was an important day on the medieval Church calendar—Candlemas. And this date resonated in several of my novels. February 2nd, 1141 was the battle of Lincoln, in which Stephen was defeated and taken prisoner by Robert, the Earl of Gloucester, on behalf of his sister, the Empress Maude. At the risk of seeming blood-thirsty, I like writing of battles and this was a good one, filled with high drama and suspense. February 2nd was also the date of an important Yorkist battle, at Mortimer’s Cross in 1461. Edward, who’d become Duke of York and head of his fractured family upon the death of his father at the battle of Wakefield barely a month ago, was trying to prevent Owen Tudor and reinforcements coming out of Wales from joining the Lancastrians, and he forced a battle not far from Wigmore. Even before the fighting began, he faced a challenge when a parhelion appeared in the sky, a phenomenon that made it look as if there were three suns overhead. Naturally this frightened his soldiers, but the quick-witted Edward cried out that the suns represented the Holy Trinity and was an omen of victory; he would later adopt this as his cognizance, the Sunne in Splendour. Having staved off disaster, he then proceeded to defeat the Lancastrians, captured Owen Tudor, and had him executed—not surprising, since the heads of his father and brother and uncle were even then on poles above Micklegate Bar in York. Edward then went on to receive a hero’s welcome by the city of London and shattered the Lancastrian hopes in a savage battle fought in a snowstorm at Towton on Palm Sunday. What is truly remarkable is that Edward was not yet nineteen years old.
I thought of Edward’s parhelion when I was reading a chronicler’s account of the building of Richard I’s beloved “saucy castle, “ Chateau Gaillard. I was familiar with the exchange between the kings over Chateau Gaillard. Philippe, fuming at seeing this formidable stronghold rising up on the Vexin border, vowed that he would take it if its walls were made of steel. When he was told this, Richard laughed and said he’d hold it if its walls were made of butter. But there is another story about Gaillard not as well known. In the spring of 1198, Richard was personally supervising the construction, as he often did, when a shower of blood suddenly fell from the skies. Naturally, this freaked out everyone—everyone but Richard. The chronicler reported that “The king was not dismayed at this, nor did he relax in promoting the work in which he took so great delight.” Now I confess my first reaction to this story was an uncharitable one, wondering if the chronicler, William of Newburgh, had been hitting the wine when he wrote this. Shower of rain and blood? But when I Googled it, I discovered that red rain has indeed fallen at various times, and there were even some unsettling photos of a red rain in India that really did look like blood. Clearly strong-willed men like Richard and Edward were not as superstitious as their brethren.
For me, though, February 2nd has another, sadder meaning, for on this date in 1237, Joanna, daughter of King John and wife of Llywelyn Fawr, died at Aber and was buried at Llanfaes, where her grieving husband established a friary in honor of her memory. Below is that scene from Falls the Shadow, page 26
* * *
Joanna closed her eyes, tears squeezing through her lashes. So much she wanted to stay, but she had not the strength. “Beloved…promise me…”
Llywelyn stiffened. She’d fought so hard to gain the crown for their son. Did she mean to bind him now with a deathbed bow? He waited, dreading what she would ask of him, to safeguard the succession for Davydd. Knowing there was but one certain way to do that—to cage Gruddydd again. And how could he do that to his son? How could he condemn him to a life shut away from the sun? But how could he deny Joanna? Could he let her go to her grave without that comfort?
“Llywelyn…pray for me,” she gasped, and only then did he fully accept it, that she was indeed dying, was already lost to him, beyond earthly cares, worldly ambitions.
“I will, Joanna.” He swallowed with difficulty, brought her hand up, pressing her lips against her palm. “You will have my every prayer.”
“Bury me at…at Llanfaes…”
His head jerked up. He had an island manor at Llanfaes; it was there that Joanna had been confined after he had discovered her infidelity. “Why, Joanna? Why Llanfaes?”
Her mouth curved upward. “Because…I was so happy there. You came to me, forgave me…”
“Oh, Christ, Joanna…” His voice broke; he pulled her into an anguished embrace, held her close.
* * *
I thought of Edward’s parhelion when I was reading a chronicler’s account of the building of Richard I’s beloved “saucy castle, “ Chateau Gaillard. I was familiar with the exchange between the kings over Chateau Gaillard. Philippe, fuming at seeing this formidable stronghold rising up on the Vexin border, vowed that he would take it if its walls were made of steel. When he was told this, Richard laughed and said he’d hold it if its walls were made of butter. But there is another story about Gaillard not as well known. In the spring of 1198, Richard was personally supervising the construction, as he often did, when a shower of blood suddenly fell from the skies. Naturally, this freaked out everyone—everyone but Richard. The chronicler reported that “The king was not dismayed at this, nor did he relax in promoting the work in which he took so great delight.” Now I confess my first reaction to this story was an uncharitable one, wondering if the chronicler, William of Newburgh, had been hitting the wine when he wrote this. Shower of rain and blood? But when I Googled it, I discovered that red rain has indeed fallen at various times, and there were even some unsettling photos of a red rain in India that really did look like blood. Clearly strong-willed men like Richard and Edward were not as superstitious as their brethren.
For me, though, February 2nd has another, sadder meaning, for on this date in 1237, Joanna, daughter of King John and wife of Llywelyn Fawr, died at Aber and was buried at Llanfaes, where her grieving husband established a friary in honor of her memory. Below is that scene from Falls the Shadow, page 26
* * *
Joanna closed her eyes, tears squeezing through her lashes. So much she wanted to stay, but she had not the strength. “Beloved…promise me…”
Llywelyn stiffened. She’d fought so hard to gain the crown for their son. Did she mean to bind him now with a deathbed bow? He waited, dreading what she would ask of him, to safeguard the succession for Davydd. Knowing there was but one certain way to do that—to cage Gruddydd again. And how could he do that to his son? How could he condemn him to a life shut away from the sun? But how could he deny Joanna? Could he let her go to her grave without that comfort?
“Llywelyn…pray for me,” she gasped, and only then did he fully accept it, that she was indeed dying, was already lost to him, beyond earthly cares, worldly ambitions.
“I will, Joanna.” He swallowed with difficulty, brought her hand up, pressing her lips against her palm. “You will have my every prayer.”
“Bury me at…at Llanfaes…”
His head jerked up. He had an island manor at Llanfaes; it was there that Joanna had been confined after he had discovered her infidelity. “Why, Joanna? Why Llanfaes?”
Her mouth curved upward. “Because…I was so happy there. You came to me, forgave me…”
“Oh, Christ, Joanna…” His voice broke; he pulled her into an anguished embrace, held her close.
* * *
February 1, 2016
Recycling February 1st events
I hope you all won’t think I’m cheating to post an earlier entry, but I’ve lost so much time fighting off my computer demons and dealing with chronic back pain that I am willing to cut a few corners. Besides, this particular entry is over three years old, so I assume no one will remember it; I certainly didn’t! Some things never change, for I was moaning back then, too, about deadlines. So here it is.
A quick escape from Deadline Doomland to report that on February 1st, 1327, Edward III was crowned King of England; he was only 14 and the government remained in the hands of his mother, Queen Isabella, and her lover, Roger Mortimer. Jumping forward a few centuries, on February 1st, 1587, a conflicted Elizabeth I finally signed the death warrant for her cousin, Mary, Queen of Scots. And on a much happier, albeit non-medieval, occasion, Abraham Lincoln signed the Thirteenth Amendment on February 1st, 1865 after it had been approved by the House and the Senate, and then sent it to the states for ratification. It would eventually be ratified by the requisite number of states in December of 1865. The Thirteenth Amendment abolished slavery in the United States, completing what had begun with Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation in 1863. This is covered in Steven Spielberg’s powerful film, Lincoln.
A quick escape from Deadline Doomland to report that on February 1st, 1327, Edward III was crowned King of England; he was only 14 and the government remained in the hands of his mother, Queen Isabella, and her lover, Roger Mortimer. Jumping forward a few centuries, on February 1st, 1587, a conflicted Elizabeth I finally signed the death warrant for her cousin, Mary, Queen of Scots. And on a much happier, albeit non-medieval, occasion, Abraham Lincoln signed the Thirteenth Amendment on February 1st, 1865 after it had been approved by the House and the Senate, and then sent it to the states for ratification. It would eventually be ratified by the requisite number of states in December of 1865. The Thirteenth Amendment abolished slavery in the United States, completing what had begun with Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation in 1863. This is covered in Steven Spielberg’s powerful film, Lincoln.
January 30, 2016
The Mise of Amiens
. Since the new laptop, Uhtred, is behaving himself for now and my chiropractor is working his magic again, I hope to resume contact with the real world again. Here is another of my catch-up posts.
On January 23rd, 1264, the King of France lit a fuse that would set off an explosion in England. Simon de Montfort and his fellow barons had compelled Henry, the English king, to accept restrictions upon royal power in the Provisions of Oxford, which they saw as a natural corollary of the Magna Carta. When civil war loomed, both sides agreed to submit to the arbitration of the French King, Louis, who was also Henry’s brother-in-law. Simon was unable to attend, having broken his leg in a fall from his horse, and he was recuperating at Kenilworth Castle when he got the decision. Louis had ruled against the barons and in favor of his fellow king on all counts, even annulling the Provisions of Oxford although this went well beyond the scope of his authority. The Mise of Amiens was so one-sided that it made rebellion all but inevitable and four months later, the king’s army would meet Simon de Montfort and the barons on the battlefield at Lewes.
I dramatize this event in Chapter 29 of Falls the Shadow. Here is the closing scene of that chapter, on page 395, after Simon has gotten the bad news and asks for a moment alone with his wife, Nell, who was, of course, the sister of the English king.
* * *
Dusk was fast falling; the last of the candles had guttered out and only a hearth fire now held the dark at bay. “Shall I send for a cresset lamp?” Nell asked, and Simon shook his head, held out his hand. She came slowly from the shadows, sat beside him on the bed. Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips, pressed a kiss into her palm. After a time, he said:
“Henry may be God’s greatest fool, but he is still your brother. And Richard…he will likely oppose us, too, Nell.”
“I know,” she said softly. She’d never truly thought it would ever come to this, never thought the day might dawn when her husband and sons would face her brothers and nephews across a battlefield. She shared Simon’s confidence, but not his darker moods. Hers was a world of sunrises, not sunsets, a world in which hope flourished and faith was rewarded, and she clung to that comforting certainty all the more now that her need was so great.
“I trust in you, Simon,” she said, “and I trust in God. Whatever happens, it will be for the best, for us and for England.”
On January 23rd, 1264, the King of France lit a fuse that would set off an explosion in England. Simon de Montfort and his fellow barons had compelled Henry, the English king, to accept restrictions upon royal power in the Provisions of Oxford, which they saw as a natural corollary of the Magna Carta. When civil war loomed, both sides agreed to submit to the arbitration of the French King, Louis, who was also Henry’s brother-in-law. Simon was unable to attend, having broken his leg in a fall from his horse, and he was recuperating at Kenilworth Castle when he got the decision. Louis had ruled against the barons and in favor of his fellow king on all counts, even annulling the Provisions of Oxford although this went well beyond the scope of his authority. The Mise of Amiens was so one-sided that it made rebellion all but inevitable and four months later, the king’s army would meet Simon de Montfort and the barons on the battlefield at Lewes.
I dramatize this event in Chapter 29 of Falls the Shadow. Here is the closing scene of that chapter, on page 395, after Simon has gotten the bad news and asks for a moment alone with his wife, Nell, who was, of course, the sister of the English king.
* * *
Dusk was fast falling; the last of the candles had guttered out and only a hearth fire now held the dark at bay. “Shall I send for a cresset lamp?” Nell asked, and Simon shook his head, held out his hand. She came slowly from the shadows, sat beside him on the bed. Taking her hand, he brought it to his lips, pressed a kiss into her palm. After a time, he said:
“Henry may be God’s greatest fool, but he is still your brother. And Richard…he will likely oppose us, too, Nell.”
“I know,” she said softly. She’d never truly thought it would ever come to this, never thought the day might dawn when her husband and sons would face her brothers and nephews across a battlefield. She shared Simon’s confidence, but not his darker moods. Hers was a world of sunrises, not sunsets, a world in which hope flourished and faith was rewarded, and she clung to that comforting certainty all the more now that her need was so great.
“I trust in you, Simon,” she said, “and I trust in God. Whatever happens, it will be for the best, for us and for England.”
January 25, 2016
Ill-fated royal marriages
I hope all in the path of the Blizzard of 2016 rode it out safely. My family and I were lucky, but many NJ residents were not, for the flooding was extensive along the coast, worse even than Hurricane Sandy in many places. How much longer until spring?
Anyone contemplating January 25th for a wedding might want to think twice, for this date has a rocky track record. On this day in 1308, Edward II wed Isabella, daughter of the King of France; there has been some uncertainty about her birth date but historians now believe it was in late 1295, so she was twelve at the time. Many royal marriages did not end well, but few imploded as spectacularly as theirs did. At least not until the sixteenth century, when Henry VIII secretly wed Anne Boleyn on January 25th, 1533. He proclaimed her the love of his life and broke with the Church of Rome in order to have her. Three years later, of course, she would die on Tower Green at his command.
Anyone contemplating January 25th for a wedding might want to think twice, for this date has a rocky track record. On this day in 1308, Edward II wed Isabella, daughter of the King of France; there has been some uncertainty about her birth date but historians now believe it was in late 1295, so she was twelve at the time. Many royal marriages did not end well, but few imploded as spectacularly as theirs did. At least not until the sixteenth century, when Henry VIII secretly wed Anne Boleyn on January 25th, 1533. He proclaimed her the love of his life and broke with the Church of Rome in order to have her. Three years later, of course, she would die on Tower Green at his command.
January 22, 2016
England's first parliament and a monster winter storm
Like eighty million others who are unlucky enough to live in the path of the monster storm Jonas, I am hunkering down and hoping that any power outages will be brief; Sunday is the day of the divisional title games, after all! For my fellow sufferers, please stay warm and safe and, above all, stay indoors.
On the historical front, today I am still catching up. On January 20th, 1265, a significant event occurred in English history. On this date, Simon de Montfort summoned what many historians consider to be the first English parliament. Simon requested that the counties and towns each send two representatives, insisting that they be elected. This parliament was also the first time that knights and townspeople attended such a session together. So let’s pause and give credit where due to the arrogant French aristocrat who cracked open democracy’s door, however briefly, for of course Henry III refused to recognize it. One of my favorite characters in Falls the Shadow was Thomas Fitz Thomas, the Lord Mayor of London, who became one of Simon’s most steadfast allies, although he would pay a high price for his courage and devotion to his city; he was imprisoned for four years by the vengeful Edward I and his health suffered greatly during his captivity.
And this next item is for my Polish friend Kasia. On January 20th, 1320, Wladyslaw Lokietek was crowned King of Poland. He was quite short and Lokietek actually translates as “elbow high.” But I think he was a moral giant, for he sought to establish a uniform legal code that gave Jews equal rights with Christians, and this was 1320, people. So let’s pause to remember Wladyslaw, too, today, as we count down the days till spring.
On the historical front, today I am still catching up. On January 20th, 1265, a significant event occurred in English history. On this date, Simon de Montfort summoned what many historians consider to be the first English parliament. Simon requested that the counties and towns each send two representatives, insisting that they be elected. This parliament was also the first time that knights and townspeople attended such a session together. So let’s pause and give credit where due to the arrogant French aristocrat who cracked open democracy’s door, however briefly, for of course Henry III refused to recognize it. One of my favorite characters in Falls the Shadow was Thomas Fitz Thomas, the Lord Mayor of London, who became one of Simon’s most steadfast allies, although he would pay a high price for his courage and devotion to his city; he was imprisoned for four years by the vengeful Edward I and his health suffered greatly during his captivity.
And this next item is for my Polish friend Kasia. On January 20th, 1320, Wladyslaw Lokietek was crowned King of Poland. He was quite short and Lokietek actually translates as “elbow high.” But I think he was a moral giant, for he sought to establish a uniform legal code that gave Jews equal rights with Christians, and this was 1320, people. So let’s pause to remember Wladyslaw, too, today, as we count down the days till spring.
January 20, 2016
Shooting stars, gone too soon
While I’ve been absent from Facebook, we suffered several losses in the world of the arts, men whose deaths dim the light, like clouds covering the sun---the incomparable David Bowie, the brilliant actor Alan Rickman, and now Glenn Frry, the voice of one of my favorite rock bands, the Eagles. Who has not sung along to Hotel California? They will all be greatly missed.
I hope to catch up on so many of the historical happenings that I have been unable to comment upon, so I will start with yesterday’s date.
January 19, 1486 was the wedding day of Elizabeth of York and Henry Tudor. She seems to have been both kind-hearted and pragmatic, for she managed to make the best of a forced marriage to the usurper, and the utterly unsentimental Henry actually mourned her death. But this could not have been a happy wedding day for her, a young and beautiful woman shoved into bed with the avowed enemy of her House, a man whose official portrait looks like a wanted poster and who displayed all the warmth and charm of a Bill Belichick press conference. I hope she found happiness in her children, though she had to endure the tragic loss of her eldest son, Arthur. Her second son, Henry, was said to have adored her, and I wonder if she might have been a settling influence upon him if she’d not died so young.
I hope to catch up on so many of the historical happenings that I have been unable to comment upon, so I will start with yesterday’s date.
January 19, 1486 was the wedding day of Elizabeth of York and Henry Tudor. She seems to have been both kind-hearted and pragmatic, for she managed to make the best of a forced marriage to the usurper, and the utterly unsentimental Henry actually mourned her death. But this could not have been a happy wedding day for her, a young and beautiful woman shoved into bed with the avowed enemy of her House, a man whose official portrait looks like a wanted poster and who displayed all the warmth and charm of a Bill Belichick press conference. I hope she found happiness in her children, though she had to endure the tragic loss of her eldest son, Arthur. Her second son, Henry, was said to have adored her, and I wonder if she might have been a settling influence upon him if she’d not died so young.
January 19, 2016
Daughter of Destiny
So far Uhtred is behaving himself in a swaggering sort of way, much like his fictional namesake. So of course this was when my reliable backup, Spock, decided he wanted some attention, too, and fell into a computer coma. Who could make stuff like this up?
Many of you know that I often mention books that I have not had a chance to read myself but are ones that I think might interest my readers. So here is a link to Daughter of Destiny by Nicole Evelina, which is a retelling of that timeless tale of Guinevere and Arthur.
http://nicoleevelina.com/the-books/gu... You can check it out here and there are links, too, to Amazon and other book sites if you want to buy it.
I also want to send warm vibes to all of you in the path of the nasty winter storm that is battering the Midwest now and will invade the East Coast on Friday. Stay safe and warm if you can. And please remember your pets. A sad story broke here today of two dogs whose owners had left them outside to freeze to death; yes, it is that cold here.
Many of you know that I often mention books that I have not had a chance to read myself but are ones that I think might interest my readers. So here is a link to Daughter of Destiny by Nicole Evelina, which is a retelling of that timeless tale of Guinevere and Arthur.
http://nicoleevelina.com/the-books/gu... You can check it out here and there are links, too, to Amazon and other book sites if you want to buy it.
I also want to send warm vibes to all of you in the path of the nasty winter storm that is battering the Midwest now and will invade the East Coast on Friday. Stay safe and warm if you can. And please remember your pets. A sad story broke here today of two dogs whose owners had left them outside to freeze to death; yes, it is that cold here.
January 18, 2016
The computer gods really hate me
Sorry for the long absence, but I’ve been caught between Scylla and Charybdis, having to deal with continuing back pain and ongoing computer woes—yes, my brand new computer had me thinking he’d joined the late, unlamented Dracarys on the dark side. Drararys’s hard drive was fried when he crashed and burned so the Geek Squad could not recover anything. Thank God I had Carbonite backing my data up! I highly recommend this service; it costs $59 a year and is well worth every penny. Their technician downloaded all of Dracarys’s data onto the new computer for me, which was a great relief.
But I still had some problems with the new one, Tyrion. The most amusing thing he did was to balk at letting me access the Geek Squad website; it was almost as if he knew they were the enemy. I also lost my e-mail access, but a Geek Squad tech was able to resolve that problem for me. He blamed the refusal to access their website on Microsoft Edge, which was causing a few of the other problems I was having. But I’ve continued to have trouble with the display driver, whatever that is. I was unable to get this corrected on-line because my connection was “intermittent” according to the Geek Squad and they were concerned they could damage the computer if the connection was interrupted while they were in the midst of their repairs. Fortunately, Comcast sent out one of their technicians yesterday to repair my security system, and he volunteered to check the internet connection. He immediately discovered the problem and resolved it, as well as correcting a few mistakes made in the past by other techs. If only I were royal, I’d have knighted this dear man!
I typed this on Spock, my backup, while the Geek Squad did some on-line repairs to Tyrion’s display driver. I have decided to rename Tyrion, though. He has not been behaving in the least like the Tyrion we know and love, acting more like one of the lawless, troublemaking Lannisters. In the past few days, I’d started to call him X for expletive, but now that he has had his demons exorcised, he has been behaving much better and deserves a better name. Since he is capable of being wonderful at one moment and utterly frustrating at the next, I think I have a computer version of Uhtred on my hands. How many times have you laughed aloud at some of Uthred’s antics or marveled at his courage, only to want to smack him upside his head for his recklessness or obstinacy? Sometimes on the same page, right? One of the more intriguing aspects of Uhtred’s character is that he always knows when he is about to do something unwise or downright foolhardy, yet he invariably goes ahead and does it anyway.
As far as my back pain is concerned, this is an old and familiar foe, but sometimes it is worse than at others---like now. Sooner or later, though, my wonderful chiropractor manages to chase it into the shadows, where it will await its next opportunity to pounce. I hope that I will soon be able to return to regular Facebook and Goodreads postings. Meanwhile, I have to share this story for my fellow Game of Thrones fans. Clearly, we are legion, as proved by my experience last week with a Carbonite tech. To download the data, he needed to know the names of the two computers and I told him that the dead computer was Dracarys and the new one was Tyrion. He made no comment and set the download in motion for me. But when he signed off, he added these words: Valar morghulis.
But I still had some problems with the new one, Tyrion. The most amusing thing he did was to balk at letting me access the Geek Squad website; it was almost as if he knew they were the enemy. I also lost my e-mail access, but a Geek Squad tech was able to resolve that problem for me. He blamed the refusal to access their website on Microsoft Edge, which was causing a few of the other problems I was having. But I’ve continued to have trouble with the display driver, whatever that is. I was unable to get this corrected on-line because my connection was “intermittent” according to the Geek Squad and they were concerned they could damage the computer if the connection was interrupted while they were in the midst of their repairs. Fortunately, Comcast sent out one of their technicians yesterday to repair my security system, and he volunteered to check the internet connection. He immediately discovered the problem and resolved it, as well as correcting a few mistakes made in the past by other techs. If only I were royal, I’d have knighted this dear man!
I typed this on Spock, my backup, while the Geek Squad did some on-line repairs to Tyrion’s display driver. I have decided to rename Tyrion, though. He has not been behaving in the least like the Tyrion we know and love, acting more like one of the lawless, troublemaking Lannisters. In the past few days, I’d started to call him X for expletive, but now that he has had his demons exorcised, he has been behaving much better and deserves a better name. Since he is capable of being wonderful at one moment and utterly frustrating at the next, I think I have a computer version of Uhtred on my hands. How many times have you laughed aloud at some of Uthred’s antics or marveled at his courage, only to want to smack him upside his head for his recklessness or obstinacy? Sometimes on the same page, right? One of the more intriguing aspects of Uhtred’s character is that he always knows when he is about to do something unwise or downright foolhardy, yet he invariably goes ahead and does it anyway.
As far as my back pain is concerned, this is an old and familiar foe, but sometimes it is worse than at others---like now. Sooner or later, though, my wonderful chiropractor manages to chase it into the shadows, where it will await its next opportunity to pounce. I hope that I will soon be able to return to regular Facebook and Goodreads postings. Meanwhile, I have to share this story for my fellow Game of Thrones fans. Clearly, we are legion, as proved by my experience last week with a Carbonite tech. To download the data, he needed to know the names of the two computers and I told him that the dead computer was Dracarys and the new one was Tyrion. He made no comment and set the download in motion for me. But when he signed off, he added these words: Valar morghulis.
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