Sharon Kay Penman's Blog, page 64

My two Richards--a good day for both

I would like to thank all of my Facebook friends who shared the news about Sunne’s bargain price on your own Facebook pages. (It is now #212!) I really appreciate your help, and I am sure Richard does, too. I feel the need to speak for him since I doubt that he has Wi-Fi at Leicester Cathedral.
I have some news about the first King Richard, too. Macmillan is publishing the paperback edition of A King’s Ransom today. Another very dramatic cover; the Macmillan art department has a flair for that, and I suspect the Lionheart would approve. He appears larger than life, defiant, fearless, and handsome in a dangerous sort of way. Knowing what we do of Richard’s personality---no shrinking violet, he---that probably matches his own self-image. Whereas I think the Richard on the paperback cover of Sunne looked resolute, but haunted. I will include that link, too, for those who have not seen it. http://www.amazon.co.uk/Kings-Ransom-...
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Sunne-Splendo...

Sunne and Cyprus

I am so happy to report that Sunne is soaring higher than Daenerys’s dragon, Drogon. Before it was named as Amazon.UK’s Deal of the Month yesterday, Sunne was selling in the 12,000 range. The last time I looked, it was 238, nestled atop their political bestseller list. If my British readers and those with friends in the UK would like to share the news on your own Facebook pages that Sunne’s bargain price is just 99 pence, you’ll win the everlasting gratitude of a historical novelist and a medieval king. The more new readers we can attract for Sunne, the fewer people will believe Shakespeare’s “bottled spider” was the real Richard!
On the historical front, on May 6th, 1191, another King Richard proved yet again that truth is always stranger than fiction whenever the Angevins were involved. The Lionheart’s fleet had been separated in a violent storm and the ship carrying his sister and betrothed, Joanna and Berengaria, had been blown as far as Cyprus, where they faced a very real danger by the self-proclaimed emperor, Isaac Comnenus. The man may have been a monster—the Cypriots certainly thought so—but he was still clever enough to realize what valuable hostages the women would be, and threatened to take them ashore by force if need be. Joanna had been stalling for time, which was rapidly running out. The chroniclers gave a dramatic account of their plight, gazing hopelessly out to sea when suddenly a sail appeared on the horizon.
Lionheart, page 221
* * *
It seemed to take forever before those on deck could see it, too, a large ship skimming the waves, its sails billowing out like canvas clouds. When the lookout yelled that there were two ships, excitement swept the buss, for with these reinforcements, surely they could fend off Isaac’s galleys? (Omission) “You see,” Berengaria said with a beatific smile. “God does hear our prayers.”
“Yes, he does,” Joanna agreed, for it would have been churlish to quibble with salvation. But she could not banish the question from her mind as she could from her lips. Where was the fleet? Where was Richard?
It happened with such suddenness that men were not sure at first if they could trust their senses. There was nothing to the west but sea and sky and those two ships tacking against the wind. And then the horizon was filled with sails, stretching as far as the eye could see. A moment of stunned disbelief gave way almost at once to pandemonium, and for the rest of their lives, there would be men who vowed they’d never experienced an emotion as overwhelming as the joy of deliverance on a May Sunday off the coast of Cyprus.
The sharp-eyed sailors spotted it first. “The Sea-Cleaver! The king’s galley!” But Richard’s women needed to see it for themselves, scarcely breathing until it came into focus, looking like a Norse long-ship, its hull as red as the sunset, its sails catching the wind, and streaming from its masthead the banner emblazoned with the royal lion of England.
Berengaria found it hard to tear her gaze away from the sight of that blessed galley. “It is like a miracle, Joanna,” she said in awe, “that he should reach us in our hour of greatest need.”
Joanna gave a shaken laugh. “Richard has always had a talent for making a dramatic entrance, but he has outdone himself with this one!”
* * *
As I so often find myself saying with the Plantagenets, who would dare to make something like this up?

Good news about Sunne in Splendour

I have some good news about Sunne and therefore, Richard. No, HBO has not come calling. But Amazon.UK did. Sunne has been chosen as Amazon.UK’s Deal of the Month, starting today. It is being offered at a greatly reduced price, 99 pence, and will be promoted as well. In the past, when one of my mysteries was chosen as Amazon.UK’s Deal of the Day, they all ended up on its e-book bestseller list, one of the rare times when that platitude about a rising tide lifting all boats proved true. I am hoping that Sunne follows the same route; at the least, it will be drawing in new readers, always a good thing for Richard. http://www.amazon.co.uk/Sunne-Splendo...
Oh, and there is still time to enter the drawing to win a personalized hardcover edition of Sunne, with the second prize being a signed paperback copy. It is not restricted to my British readers; anyone in the world—even the galaxy—can enter simply by posting a comment on my blog.

My favorite medieval battle

May 4, 1471 was a date of great significance for the House of York---the battle of Tewkesbury, which brought the Wars of the Roses to a bloody end. It was also one of my favorite battles—in the sense that it was exciting to write about. I would not have dared to invent the shocking events of that day had they not actually happened. If any of you have not yet read The Sunne in Splendour, stop here, for SPOILERs abound. Dramatic battles have certainly occurred in my novels—Bosworth, Lewes, Evesham, Lincoln, the Lionheart’s crusade, to name the most obvious.
But Tewkesbury was a historical novelist’s dream. It began with a desperate chase, as Marguerite d’Anjou sought to get her son into Wales and Edward of York defied the very laws of nature by catching up to the Lancastrians before they could cross the Severn. Their commander, the Duke of Somerset, came up with a reckless battle plan, one that would be judged as brilliant or disastrous depending upon the outcome. Taking advantage of the rough terrain that limited visibility, he led the vanguard in a flank attack upon Edward’s center. It should have worked, but Edward was able to to rally his men and kept them from breaking under the onslaught, all the while expecting the Lancastrian center under Lord Wenlock to join Somerset in the assault.
Sunne, page 472
* * *
When his hidden spearmen joined the struggle against Somerset, Edward at last let himself hope he might prevail. Where in Christ was Wenlock? He didn’t understand, could only thank God for the uncanny luck that had always been his. And then he thanked God for his brother, for the Yorkist vanguard was suddenly there, how he did not know, didn’t care, and once again he’d won, against all odds and expectations. His stallion was limping badly; he slid from the saddle and, leaning against the animal’s heaving side, he began to laugh.
* * *
Three things saved the House of York that day: Edward’s charismatic ability to make men willing to die for him, the failure of Wenlock to join in Somerset’s bold attack, and Edward’s decision to entrust the vanguard to his eighteen year old brother, Richard, for as soon as he realized what was happening, he managed to get the two thousand men of the vanguard turned around so they could come to Edward’s aid.
Why didn’t Wenlock move against the Yorkists? We don’t know for sure, but Somerset had no doubts. One of the few to survive the carnage as his men were trapped between Edward’s center and Richard’s vanguard, he rode straight for the Lancastrian center and shattered Wenlock’s skull with one swing of his battle axe. Now what novelist would dare to make something like that up?
But the killing was not over yet.
Sunne, page 477. Somerset’s brother arrived on the scene to find Somerset drenched in blood, staring down blindly at Wenlock’s body while the young Lancastrian prince pleaded with him that none of this was his fault and their soldiers were understandably in a state of panic. John Beaufort cut through Somerset’s shock, shouting that Edward was leading the Yorkist center right toward them.
* * *
Somerset tried. He broke his heart trying. Shouting until his voice failed him. Striking about him with the flat of his sword at his fleeing soldiers. Spurring his shuddering mount upon the men of York until the animal quite simply came to the end of its endurance and no longer responded to the rasping of the silver rowels or the pressure of the bit in its bloodied mouth. Even then, he persisted. Scorning his own safety, he took chances that bordered on madness. But courage was no longer enough, not now.
The Sunne of York bannered the field, swept all before it. The heart had gone from the Lancastrian army. They’d seen their vanguard slaughtered, seen their leaders turn upon each other. Now men cast aside their weapons, sought only to save themselves, and Somerset alone tried to hold them against York.
Devon was dead. So was Somerset’s brother. Prince Edouard had long since fled the field, urged on by the bodyguards sworn to see to his safety. Somerset’s men drowned trying to cross the Avon, died trying to reach the sanctuary of the abbey. Somerset found himself upon a field with his dead and the exultant soldiers of the White Rose, and as he raged among them, cursing and sobbing, even death seemed to elude him. Until at last he sank to his knees, had not the strength to rise, to lift his sword, watching through a red wavering haze the death of the House of Lancaster.
* * *
The aftermath of the battle was no less dramatic. Many Lancastrians had fled into the abbey church, with the Yorkist soldiers hot on their heels. They were stopped from turning the church into a bloodbath by the abbot, who barred the doorway and threatened eternal damnation to any who dared to violate sanctuary. A knight rode his stallion right up onto the abbey porch, reminding the abbot that Tewkesbury had no royal charter, nor had it been named as a sanctuary church by papal bull. The abbot went pale as he realized that “There’d been nothing of the awe of the priesthood in that cold, derisive voice, only arrogance and a sophisticated knowledge of canon law such as few laymen would have.” Horror swept the men trapped in the church as they realized the speaker’s identity---the Yorkist king.
But Edward was not usually vengeful and he let the abbot persuade him to spare their lives—until he learned that Somerset and thirteen highborn Lancastrian lords were among those in the church. He had them taken out by force, tried for treason, and executed, giving me the opportunity to write a scene between Richard, England’s young Lord Constable, and Edmund Beaufort, Earl of Somerset, his honorable enemy.
Every year they do a re-enactment of the battle at Tewkesbury and when we were there on my Richard III tour, they told us that it is quite famous, with people coming from all over Europe. I would love to see that myself one day, and I am guessing that most of you would, too. I am not so keen on watching a re-enactment of Bosworth for obvious reasons. The last time I was there, I did my best to convince them that they’d get world-wide publicity if they ever let Richard win the battle. I think they were in sympathy with the idea, so we can always hope; what better year to correct history then this one?

And the name of the new baby royal is......?

Now that the royal baby watch has come to a happy end, the name game begins. Apparently the three favorite names are Alice, Charlotte, or Olivia. I am a traditionalist, I guess, for I’d like the new baby to be named Elizabeth or Eleanor, though that one is not too likely. And of course I’d not have chosen George; I wanted another King Richard! Here is a link to more royal baby names. What do you all think? Any favorites of your own?
http://www.cnn.com/2015/05/02/living/...
And back to the Middle Ages, May 3rd was an important date on the Yorkist calendar. Cecily Neville was born on May 3rd, 1415 and her daughter, Margaret, future Duchess of Burgundy, was born on that same day in 1446. I found this interesting as my grandmother and my mother also shared the same birthday, in their case, February 19th.
On a sadder note, May 3rd, 1152 was the date of death for Stephen’s queen, Matilda of Boulogne. I don’t think he ever fully recovered from losing her. I really enjoyed writing about her in Saints, for she changed in the course of the book, going from a traditional wife and mother to a woman capable of leading armies, much to her surprise.

Apologies to Anne Boleyn

I forgot to post the second half of this morning's post--Sorry, Anne!
May 2nd was also the date in 1536 when Anne Boleyn was arrested and taken to the Tower of London, which would, as we know, soon lead to her execution. Anne certainly had her share of flaws, probably one reason why she continues to fascinate people so many centuries after her death. But I doubt that anyone--certainly no historian that I am aware of—believes that she was guilty of adultery and incest. Henry had truly become a monster by then, willing to sacrifice several innocent men in order to rid himself of a wife he no longer wanted. I have always thought that the Lord Mayor was one of the most courageous men in Tudor England, for he dared to say publicly after Anne’s sham of a trial that no proof had been offered of her guilt.

He was guilty, she was not, at least not of adultery

Sorry for the disappearing act. I could blame it on the Deadline Dragon, which is my usual MO. For all I know, he had a hand—or claw—in the spread of the Black Death, the San Francisco earthquake, and even the constant failure over the years of the brilliant, subversive series, Buffy and the Vampire Slayer, never to receive a single Emmy nomination. But he is actually innocent for once, or as innocent as dragons ever are. I was AWOL for a more mundane reason—I wasn’t feeling well this week.
I hope to get back to Outremer today, where Baldwin has been much sicker than me, stricken with pneumonia. You’d think having to cope with leprosy would be more than enough for the lad, but that disease also compromised the immune systems of lepers, making Baldwin vulnerable to other ailments, too.
Before I disappear back into the 12th century, May 2nd was an interesting day on the historical calendar. On May 2nd, 1230, William de Braose, grandson of Maude de Braose, who’d been starved to death in one of King John’s dungeons, was publicly hanged by Llywelyn Fawr, having been caught in the bedchamber of Llywelyn’s beloved wife, Joanna. I say “beloved” because there is no other explanation for what he did---he forgave her and eventually restored her to favor, even though doing so was a great political risk. In the MA, cuckolded husbands were figures of fun, especially older men married to younger women, as was the case with Llywelyn and Joanna. His risk was compounded by the fact that Joanna’s lover was, like her, Norman-French, so Llywelyn’s Welsh subjects were even more outraged by her behavior. If the skeptics need additional proof that Llywelyn loved his wife, upon her death, he established a Franciscan friary in her honor, a gesture right up there with Edward I’s Eleanor crosses for his deceased queen.

Edward of York

Since my Facebook readers asked to friend me knowing that I’d written a thousand page book about Richard III in which my Richard bore little resemblance to Shakespeare’s bottled spider, I think it is safe to assume that most of you are Yorkists at heart. So today we celebrate the birthday on August 28, 1442 of Edward, eldest son of the Duke of York and Cecily Neville. (Just in passing, no, I do not believe he was the result of a liaison between the proud duchess and an archer; I think that is about as likely as my chances of finding a unicorn in my garden tomorrow morning.) Speaking of unicorns, anyone read that short story by James Thurber, in which a husband tells his ill-tempered wife that there is a unicorn in their garden, which does not end well for the wife.
Getting back to Edward of York, I confess that he is one of my favorite characters. There are very few I enjoyed writing about as much as Edward, and I missed him very much after he had to die. I think it was his sense of humor that I found so appealing; Edward took little in life too seriously, including himself, and it was great fun writing his scenes with his wife, who took everything with deadly seriousness. He had interesting flaws, too; perfect people are rather boring, both in person and in fiction. You can usually tell if I do not like a character in one of my books; he will have no sense of humor whatsoever and will be cheap in the bargain; paging Henry Tudor. But I play fair. You all know Edward I is not one of my favorite kings, but he did have a sharp sense of humor and I let the readers see that, as well as other admirable qualities like his courage, intelligence, affection for his wife. Now his father, Henry III, was by no means a villain; he was a decent man simply in over his head, a convincing argument against hereditary kingship. Naturally I loved writing about the Welsh princes, who offered me a rare opportunity to surprise my readers.
I think I probably had the most fun, though, with the Angevins, for Henry and Eleanor and their Devil’s Brood were all born scene-stealers, quick-witted, sardonic, dramatic, ruthless, and always entertaining. I am going to miss them even more than I missed Edward once Sunne was finished. Fortunately, writers are fickle and we move on, so I am now having fun in Outremer with another cast of colorful characters, for as my favorite writer, Mark Twain, expressed it so well---Truth is always stranger than Fiction, for fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities, and Truth isn’t. Certainly not when the Plantagenets were involved.
PS This was also the date in 1192 that Conrad of Montferrat, newly named as King of Jerusalem was murdered in the streets of Tyre by two of the feared cult, the Assassins. I didn’t get to give him many scenes in Lionheart since he was at odds with Richard, who supported Conrad’s rival, Guy de Lusignan, not one of Richard’s better decisions; the bitter rivalry between Richard and the French king, Philippe Capet, led both of them astray more than once. Conrad will get more time on center stage in Outremer, much more so than his elder brother, who was of great importance to the kingdom, but who got only one line of dialogue in his brief appearance.

Last night's Game of Thrones

Here is Entertainment Weekly’s James Hibbard, giving a recap of last night’s Game of Thrones episode, followed by the New York Times review. As always, SPOILERS, so do not read if you’ve not yet seen the show. I will say only that they share our shock at the turn the series has taken away from the books when it comes to the unluckiest person in all of Westeros. (Naturally a Stark.) We all know Master Martin can be merciless when it comes to his characters—and his readers! But he now seems like Mother Theresa compared to the HBO writers.
http://www.ew.com/recap/game-of-thron...
http://artsbeat.blogs.nytimes.com/201...

Loch Ness Monster vs Google

This has to be the perfect confluence of modern technology and myth. Google has mapped the Loch Ness Monster’s lake. How cool is that? http://www.hlntv.com/video/2015/04/22... I find it hard to believe in unicorns but I like to think that Nessie is swimming around in those dark depths, having wisely decided to avoid people at all costs. So while it amused me that Google is monster-hunting, I hope the final score of this underwater game will be Loch Ness Monster 1, Google 0.