Sharon Kay Penman's Blog, page 60

The Bronte sisters

Nothing medieval on my mind today, but July 30th, 1818 was the birthdate of Emily Bronte. Like many others, I’ve always been very interested in the Bronte sisters. I once made a visit to their family home at Haworth in the West Yorkshire moors, and it was an amazing experience to be able to see their personal effects and furniture and the couch upon which Emily had died. When I was doing research for Ransom, I was startled to learn that a strong case can be made that Charlotte died of hyperemesis gravidarum, as Joanna did in Ransom. When I was young, I was bedazzled by Wuthering Heights, but later I decided that Jane Eyre was actually the better book, at least IMHO. Any thoughts on that?
Meanwhile, the petition on behalf of Cecil the lion has collected over a quarter million signatures already; I want to thank to all of you who signed. It has now been posted on Twitter, so I expect the number to rise significantly. (And no, I am still not on Twitter myself.)
Lastly, my kitchen remodeling is done! My plumber is busy putting in a new sink and then re-hooking the dishwasher even as I type this. I think it looks wonderful and l will be recommending Home Depot’s kitchen remodeling unit to virtually everyone I know. But there must be some very disappointed ants outside, for they’d been invading the kitchen this summer via the old splashguard, which had been poorly installed. I’d suggested to Holly that she might want to add ants to her diet, but she was not receptive to that idea. Since I did not want to call in an exterminator and anteaters do not make the best of pets, a kitchen remodeling seemed in order!

Justice for Cecil

I hope that all of you who share my anger and disgust at the killing of the magnificent lion, Cecil, will sign this petition. Social shaming seems to be the only way to make this man, Walter James Palmer, pay a price for what he did. Not only did he kill an animal in danger of extinction after luring him from the safety of a game preserve, it is likely that by killing Cecil, he also doomed the young cubs in Cecil’s pride. A fine would not deter someone who’d pay over $50,000 to be able to murder a lion. He already has a felony conviction for illegally killing a black bear. He clearly did not care about Cecil’s suffering in the 40 hours between his wounding and his death. He does not seem to like being made an object of scorn, though, judging by his attempts to place all of the blame on the guides. There is really little we can do, except to speak up and say that this is wrong, this is unacceptable, and we have nothing but contempt for Walter James Palmer and those who see “big-game hunting” as a sport.
https://www.change.org/p/justice-for-...

A captive king and a foolish queen

July 29, 1469 was not a good day for the House of York, for it was on this date that Edward was captured and taken as a prisoner to his cousin, the Earl of Warwick. However, I had great fun writing this scene and the succeeding scenes, as Edward showed he was more than a skilled battle commander and a playboy prince. He had a first-rate brain, too, and he was one of those rare men who were at their best when things were at their worst, although sadly he was at his worst when things were at their best. Warwick had always underestimated him, and that would prove to be a costly mistake. Writers usually have favorite chapters and Edward’s capture at Olney is one of mine. So, too, are the scenes with Warwick, so smugly sure he has the upper hand, while Edward smiles and complies with the demands made upon him and makes plans of his own. Plans that come to fruition when Warwick returns to Middleham and is shocked to discover that Edward has managed to summon the lords of the realm--and an army led by his young brother Richard and the loyal Will Hastings.
The Sunne in Splendour, pages 152-153
* * *
The men were watching Warwick with expectant interest; several, like Jack Howard, were openly challenging. Warwick’s eyes moved from face to face, until at last he found the one he sought. Edward was standing with the Archbishop of York. The latter was resplendent in the jeweled miter and robes of a Prince of the Church, but as white of face as one being marched to the gallows. Edward had been laughing as Warwick entered the hall; he was flushed with triumph, looked surprisingly young and suddenly carefree.
For a moment, time seemed to fragment, the intervening eight years seemed to disappear as if they’d never been, and Warwick was seeing again the jubilant nineteen year old youth who’d ridden beside him into London to deafening cheers on that long-ago February day that was to lead to the throne. And then the eerie illusion shattered and Warwick was facing a man who watched him with hard mocking eyes and a smile that promised not remembrance, but retribution.
* * *
July 29th was also the date in 1565 when Mary Queen of Scots made a mistake so monumental that it can be argued this was her first step on the road to the gallows at Fotheringhay Castle. I am not a fan of Mary’s, having always been a member of Team Elizabeth, but even I wish I could time-travel back to the day of her wedding to Lord Darnley and warn her not to marry him. Not that she’d have heeded me. Mary was never one for listening to good advice.

A lion, an orca, two very different fates

I found this story truly infuriating. http://www.cnn.com/2015/07/27/africa/... I really hope they don’t get off with a slap on the wrist, but I suspect that will be the case.
Since that story shows people at their worst, here is a much more heartening example of people at their best. We need reminders of that, given the current state of the world.
http://fox13now.com/2015/07/24/volunt...

Richard III at Fontevrault?

I’m back. For much of the time, I was off having fun, showing Stephanie the scenic wonders of New Jersey---yes, we do have them in Jersey—during her visit. Now comes the non-fun part, though; I am having my kitchen remodeled this week and never have I wished more fervently that life had a fast-forward button.
Moving back in time, here is a remarkable story coming out of the Loire Valley. It seems Richard III may soon be joining his Angevin ancestors at Fontevrault. Yes, that startled me, too. Here is the link so you can read the story for yourselves. Now I am always in favor of calling attention to Richard, but I have to admit it never occurred to me to let him crash the Angevin party. http://www.connexionfrance.com/grande...

Jon Snow????

For my fellow Game of Thrones fans, more speculation about the fate of Jon Snow.
http://www.cnn.com/2015/07/22/enterta...

Harper Lee

Rumors to the contrary, I was not kidnapped by alien beings. Nor do I have any exotic excuses to offer for my absence. Real life simply swept me up in its clutches. Writers really do need shark-filled moats to keep us safe from distractions, but that is one of the few items not offered on Amazon.
Here is an interesting, fairly balanced review of Harper Lee’s new book that ran in the New York Times. I think the reviewer makes some valid points. I should admit my bias at the outset; I do not believe Harper Lee ever intended for this novel to be published. She had several decades in which to do so, and I find it telling that she did not. In light of her current circumstances and the vulnerabilities that age eventually inflicts us all, I remain skeptical that this was truly her wish. Having said that, I have always planned to read the novel. I have just started it, and her distinctive voice shines through in the first chapter very clearly; the humor is there and the imaginative way with words. The NY Times reviewer feels that the book fell apart in the second half, but I am not far enough into the book to judge. I would be very curious to get reader feedback on this. http://www.nytimes.com/2015/07/14/boo...

An abusive royal husband and a lone wolf who is lonely no more

July 14th is, of course, Bastille Day. It is on my Bucket List, albeit way down there, to be in Paris one year for the celebration. July 14th was also a day of liberation for a much abused medieval queen, Ingeborg, the Danish princess who had the bad luck to marry Philippe Capet. After she refused to consent when he attempted to end their marriage the morning after they’d apparently experienced the Wedding Night from Hell, he proceeded to treat her even worse than Henry VIII treated Katherine of Aragon. I’ve written about this before, and can post a link to the article I wrote about it if anyone is interested. But Philippe finally died on July 14, 1223, and I am happy to report that his son and grandson treated her very well for the remaining years of her life.
I am also happy to report that one of the world’s most famous wolves is a father again. He was the lone wolf (literally as well as figuratively) who won Internet fame by roaming thousands of miles, even into California, in search of a mate. All true romantics and all animal lovers were delighted last year with the news that his perseverance paid off; he’d found his lady wolf, and they soon had a litter of cubs. Well, they have recently had a second litter. See story here. http://www.care2.com/causes/oregons-f...

Penance at Canterbury Cathedral

I hope no one will feel I am cheating by recycling an earlier post. On this date in 1174, as Henry knelt before Thomas Becket’s tomb in the crypt of Canterbury Cathedral, the King of Scotland was having the worst day of his life, as I explain below. Here is the account of Henry’s amazing act of penance and the consequences that followed.
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Henry’s penance actually carried over from July 12th to the 13th, as he insisted upon kneeling all night long by Becket’s tomb. And he was to be spectacularly rewarded for his ordeal, for while he was doing penance, his forces captured the King of Scotland outside Alnwick Castle. Naturally, medievals attributed this to the intervention of the martyred archbishop, Thomas Becket. The Great Rebellion against Henry fell apart and within two months, his sons were suing for peace.
July 13, 1205 was also the death of a very important figure to two Angevin kings, Hubert Walter, Archbishop of Canterbury. Lionheart readers will remember him as a character in that book, accompanying Richard on the Third Crusade, where he greatly distinguished himself. He impressed Richard enough for the king to name him as his choice for Archbishop of Canterbury, writing from his German prison to tell his mother, Eleanor that only his own release meant more to him than Hubert’s election. He would prove to be an excellent choice, and is given high marks by historians. He even managed to keep the confidence of the prickly, sometimes paranoid John, no mean feat.
Now, back to Henry. Some scenes are innately challenging, and this was certainly one of them. I approached it with some unease, for if it fell flat, I feared it could adversely affect the rest of Devil’s Brood. Henry’s decision to do penance was so very medieval, after all, and it is not always easy for us to identify with the medieval mind-set. To my surprise and relief, it turned out to be very easy to write. I was even able to insert a few touches of humor into this highly charged, dramatic scene: Driven to distraction by a garrulous monk, Henry wonders, “Was there a way to murder Brother Benedict and make it seem as if he’d been smitten by the wrath of the unforgiving Thomas? A vengeful saint was surely a contradiction in terms, but he alone seemed to think so.” Brother Benedict, by the way, would later pen a history of the miracles he was boring Henry with. I searched diligently for a copy, and finally found one on-line in a Tokyo bookstore; I admit I loved the symmetry of that—an American author buying a book from a Japanese bookseller that was written by a medieval monk and translated by a Victorian historian.
The trickiest part of the scene was Henry’s monologue after Brother Benedict finally departs. I wasn’t sure how I’d handle this, but Henry’s character chose to talk conversationally to his former friend, and I just followed his lead. He is by turns emotional, cynical, and challenging, calling Thomas a chameleon, denying that he wanted Becket’s death, and confiding “Did I grieve for you? No, I did not.” He accuses Thomas of craving martyrdom, points out the absurdity of Becket’s position that only the Church could punish its own, for it meant that he could take no action against the assassins, who escaped with a papal slap on the wrist, sent off on penitential pilgrimages to the Holy Land. Henry being Henry, he cannot resist sarcasm; “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 me you are paying attention.” He ends up confessing, though. “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.” He admits he does not understand how they came to this, and he truly does not, just as he will not understand why his marriage crumbles or his sons do not love him as he loved his own father. He waits in vain in the empty cathedral crypt for a response from the new saint, and finally entreats in desperation, “St Thomas, guard my realm.” I, for one, was very glad that St Thomas came through for him.
I have a confession of my own; I think this may be my favorite of all the scenes I’ve written, for it shows Henry at his most human. After three novels with him, I miss writing about him very much, and while I did manage to give him a brief scene in Ransom, that only made me mourn his loss all the more. I’ve been able to write about some memorable characters over the years, but Henry is very close to my heart.

What if???

Yesterday, July 11, 1174 was the date of death of Amalric I, King of Jerusalem, an interesting case that proves one man can have a dramatic impact upon history, even one whom most people today have never heard of. Amalric’s death was unexpected, for he was only 38, dying of dysentery he’d contracted on a recent campaign. Had he lived, the history of the Holy Land, Syria, Egypt, England, France, and Germany would have been altered.
Saladin was able to take advantage of the kingdom’s weaknesses when it was ruled by a young leper king and torn asunder by political rivalries. Had Amalric, a strong king with an aggressive foreign policy, lived, the kingdom would not have been so vulnerable to attack. Baldwin would not have become king, disqualified once his leprosy was definitely diagnosed, nor would his sister Sybilla have become queen, making her inept husband, Guy de Lusignan, king. Without Guy to lead their army into disaster at the battle of Hattin, Saladin would not have been able to seize Jerusalem. Without the fall of Jerusalem, there would have been no Third Crusade. Richard I would not have been shipwrecked and would not have fallen into the hands of the Emperor Heinrich. It is also unlikely that he’d have died as he did, at Chalus, for his bitter war with the French king was the result of his attempts to win back the lands he’d lost to Philippe during his German captivity. In the five years that he fought Philippe after regaining his freedom, only once was Philippe able to defeat him on the field, so there is no way Philippe could have seized so much of the Angevin lands with Richard on the scene to defend them.
But while we can say with reasonable certainty that the above events would not have happened had Amalric lived and continued to rule, we cannot predict what would have occurred with this different set of facts. It is safe to say, though, that Richard would never have died peacefully in bed at an advanced age! It is possible that Heinrich could have been overthrown by his rebellious lords, that John might not have become king, that neither Saladin nor Richard would have achieved the fame that they won by combatting each other during the Third Crusade. I find the speculation concerning Amalric’s premature death to be especially intriguing because the stakes were so high for so many countries and dynasties.
History is a natural breeding ground for these What If questions. What if Edward I had been slain by that Assassin’s poisoned dagger in Acre? (If only!) What if Simon de Montfort had pulled off a miracle and prevailed at Evesham? If Edward IV had heeded his head, not his nether regions, and realized how foolish it would be to wed Elizabeth Woodville? Or if he’d not died at forty? What if Richard III had won the battle at Bosworth? No wonder some writers are drawn to alternative fiction!