Sharon Kay Penman's Blog, page 70

Eleanor and Game of Thrones trailer

I am a day late, but on March 11, 1152, Louis VII of France and Eleanor of Aquitaine ended their marriage, a move that Louis would come to bitterly regret and one that enabled Eleanor to prove Scott Fitzgerald wrong; there are indeed second acts, and hers would be spectacular. Yesterday was also the date of death of her daughter by Louis, Marie, the Countess of Champagne, who died in 1198. I personally don’t think she ever got over the sudden death of her son, Henri, in a bizarre accident at Acre. In yesterday’s blog, I did a six word memoir for Eleanor that reflects the sorrows that were visited upon her in her twilight years” “A mother shouldn’t outlive her children.”
And here is a link to the trailer for the new season off Game of Thrones. Battles, bloodshed, betrayals, and dragons! Who could ask for more? http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/03...

Six Words or Less--Again

I have a new blog up at long last, Six Words or less--Again. Here is the link.

http://sharonkaypenman.com/blog/?p=499

SIX WORDS OR LESS–AGAIN

SIX WORDS OR LESS—AGAIN

I’d like to thank all of you who participated in the book giveaway for Priscilla Royal’s new mystery, Satan’s Lullaby.  The lucky winner is Anne; if you have not done so already, Anne, you can reach me at sharonkpenman@yahoo.com or Priscilla at tynprior@aol.com

I am doing something unusual for this blog, recycling a past one.   This was In Six Words or Less, which addressed the six word memoirs fad.  As I explained in that blog, when Ernest Hemingway was challenged to write a short story in just six words, he delivered a knockout punch:   “For sale, baby shoes.  Never worn.”        In my blog, I cited some clever or poignant efforts by those inspired by Ernest.    “Came, saw, conquered.  Had second thoughts.”    “Like an angel.  The fallen kind.”   And “Everyone who loved me is dead.”

I then moved on to some of our favorite historical characters and tried my hand at reducing their larger-than-life histories to six words or less.    Here are a few examples that I came up with in that blog.   Henry II:   “Happier if I’d only had daughters.”    Richard I at Chalus: “Damn!  Should have worn my armor.”      Thomas Becket:  “A saint now.  I win, Henry.”   I came up with six word memoirs for almost all of my major characters—the Welsh princes and their wives, Simon de Montfort, and the Yorkists.    And I concluded by challenging my readers to come up with six word memoirs of their own—for themselves, for historical characters, whomever came to mind.   And they really responded, crafting some wonderful responses.  Unfortunately, those stellar efforts won’t show up on this blog.  But for any of you curious to read them, here is the link to that earlier blog.   http://sharonkaypenman.com/blog/?p=356 It was posted over two and a half years ago, in October of 2012, the major reason why I decided to rerun it; I realized that I have so many more Facebook friends now that many of them probably never saw it.    So here is the challenge again.   Read the blog below and then try your own hands at it.   Good luck!

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IN SIX WORDS OR LESS—OCTOBER 21, 2012

Some of you may remember a few years ago when six-word memoirs became the rage.   Supposedly this trend could be traced to an anecdote about Ernest Hemingway.  Challenged to write a short story in just six words, he sat down and scribbled:  “For sale, baby shoes.  Never worn.”    Whether that was true or not, many people were inspired to take a shot at it, and at least one book of their split-second memoirs was published.  I thought it might be fun to try it for historical figures.  But first let me give you some examples from Six-word Memoirs.  They are funny, ironic, wry, poignant, tragic, playful, disillusioned, clever —in other words, they run the gambit of human emotions.

Here are some I found sad:   “I still make coffee for two.”  “I like girls. Girls like boys.”  “I hope to outlive my regrets.”   “Everyone who loved me is dead.”    “Was father. Boys died. Still sad.”   “So devastated.  No babies for me.”    “Coulda, woulda, shoulda.  A regretful life.”

Here are some I thought were clever or amusing or thought-provoking.   “Verbal hemophilia; why can’t I clot?’   “Woman seeks men; high pain threshold.”   “Perpetual work in progress.  Need editor.”  “Memory was my drug of choice.”   “Came, saw, conquered.  Had second thoughts.”  “Always working on the next chapter.”   “Lapsed Catholic.  Failed poet.  Unpublished prayers.”    “Like an angel.  The fallen kind.”   “Giraffe born to a farm family.”  “Tried not believing everything I thought.”    “The militant who became a monk.”

Okay, everyone ready to play?   How about this one for Henry II, a bit trite but true:  “Happier if I’d had only daughters.”    Or Richard, musing on his deathbed at Chalus.  “Damn!  Should have worn my armor.”     Eleanor: “Rebellion?  Probably not a good idea.”      John:  “Why do people not trust me?”    Hal:  “I was king; no one cared.”      Geoffrey:  “I was always the forgotten son.”    Thomas Becket: “A saint now.  I win, Henry.”      The Empress Maude:  “I was cheated of my destiny.”     Eleanor and Henry’s daughter, Leonora: “I couldn’t live without my husband.”    Berengaria: “If only I’d had a child.”     Joanna: “I found love, but too late.”   The French king Philippe: “God rot all those accursed Angevins.”      His unhappy queen, Ingeborg: “Why did I ever leave Denmark?”        King Stephen:  “The crown brought me little happiness.”    Here’s another one for Henry, which probably crossed his mind during his last days at Chinon:  “Betrayed by all whom I loved.”    Rosamund Clifford:  “Loved by Henry, forgiven by God.”     Henry’s illegitimate son Geoff, the Archbishop of York:   “I never wanted to take vows!”     Richard again, “The Lionheart legend lives on, Philippe!”       Eleanor: “A mother shouldn’t outlive her children.”     Geoffrey of Anjou, who died within a month after Bernard of Clairvaux prophesied his death:  “Don’t let Bernard gloat about this.”    Or Maude again, maybe wistfully this time:  “I’d have been a good queen.”      Her brother Robert, barred by illegitimacy from the throne: “I’d have been a better king.”      And I’m going to cheat now and give John the last word, this one from Here Be Dragons: “I always knew I’d die alone.”

Moving on to Llywelyn Fawr:  “Poor Wales, so close to England.”    Joanna:  “I loved him; he forgave me.”      William de Braose, who was hanged by Llywelyn for his infidelity with Joanna:  “Hellfire, no woman is worth this.”    Llywelyn’s son Gruffydd, about to escape from the Tower:  “Now if only the sheet holds.”      Llywelyn’s grandson, Llywelyn ap Gruffydd:   “God help Wales once I’m dead.”   His wife, Ellen de Montfort:  “But we had so little time together.”     Their daughter Gwenllian:  “Tell me, please, where is Wales?”   Davydd ap Gruffydd:  “Could not live with my regrets.”    His wife Elizabeth de Ferrers:  “My crime?  That I loved Davydd.”     Their son Owen, imprisoned from the age of three by Edward:   “Why am I being held here?”

Edward I:  “For me, more was never enough.”    Henry III:  “Westminster Abbey was my true legacy.”   Simon de Montfort:  “I died for a just cause.”    Also, “My brother-in-law was such a fool.”    His wife, Nell: “I’d do it all over again.”      Their son Bran:  “Never enough wine to drown memories.”  Guy de Montfort, who committed suicide in a Sicilian dungeon after Edward I blocked a ransom: “Please God, let me go mad.”

Edward IV:  “Burned my candle at both ends.”      Richard III:  “Please bury me at York Minster.”     Anne Neville: “I wanted Middleham, not Westminster Palace.”     Elizabeth Woodville: “I should have known—damn Edward!”     Edmund, 17 year old Earl of Rutland: “This cannot be happening to me.”   Marguerite d’Anjou:  “My life?  Much grief, few joys.”       Cecily Neville: “My life?  It lasted too long.”    Elizabeth of York:  “My life?  I did my duty.”  Henry Tudor:  “Tudors lay claim to Hollywood next.”    George of Clarence:  “What’s that?  A butt of malmsey?”

Okay, how about everyone else giving it a try?   You can choose any historical character, though Henry VIII and his wives might be too easy.    You can write your own memoirs instead, if you wish.  (You may notice that I cravenly ducked that one.)    Have fun.

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I hope you all agree with me that this was worth redoing.  And here is more information on the book I cited in that blog, which was great fun to read.   Not Quite What I was Planning; six word memoirs, edited by Rachael Fershleiser and Larry Smith.

PS.  How ironic is it that I created this six word memoir for Richard III in that earlier blog:  “Please bury me at York Minster.”

March 11, 2015

The winner of the book giveaway for Satan's Lullaby and more on Richard III

The lucky winner of a signed copy of Priscilla Royal’s new mystery, Satan’s Lullaby, is Anne. If you contact either me or Priscilla, we can set things in motion to send you the book.
Here is an interesting story about the reburial of Richard III, obviously written by someone who does not share our passion for the past; the tone sounds a bit bemused to me. But then the Daily Mail is not exactly a scholarly journal. There is going to be massive media coverage of this event. But Ricardians and also those with knowledge of history are likely going to hear uninformed commentators making truly ludicrous remarks, so be forewarned.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/art...

Richard III, Leicester's new favorite son

Here is an interesting article about what Richard III is doing for tourism in Leicester, written by an Australian journalist. I know that many remain very unhappy that Richard was not buried in York, but if Leicester does become a medieval magnet for tourists because of Richard, that is a positive development that we all can get behind. There is also an article on this blog about those ubiquitous Tudors, in this case the star status of Henry’s wives, raising the question of why Anne Boleyn remains the queen bee in the Tudor hive when all of her sister wives have compelling stories, too. https://notinkansastravel.wordpress.c...

The mysterious mother of Henry II's son

I’d expected to have a new blog up by now, but real life interfered with my plans, as usual. The delay will provide more time, however, for entering the book giveaway for Priscilla Royal’s newest mystery, Satan’s Lullaby. Priscilla asked me to let everyone know that she will do the drawing on this coming Monday, March 9th. She won’t be able to send the signed copy to the winner until she gets back from Left Coast Crime, but we will announce the winner next week.

Back to history now. On March 7th, 1226, Henry II’s illegitimate son, William Longspee (Longsword), Earl of Salisbury died. He has appeared in Here de Dragons, A King’s Ransom, and in several of my mysteries, cast in a sympathetic light, although I was wrong about his age in all the books except Ransom. When I wrote Dragons and the mysteries, we did not know the identity of his mother, so historians could only speculate as to his age. But in the wonderful way that historical discoveries turn up like gold nuggets, we now know she was Ida de Tosney, subsequently the Countess of Norfolk. As a result of this new knowledge, we know William was much younger than originally believed. I mention his likely birth year in Ransom, 1177, but I will have to stick with the older William in any future mysteries since I can’t go back and rewrite the earlier ones. Thank heaven for Author’s Notes!

Joohn of Gaunt

Snow and ice here again. That says it all.
On the historical front, March 6th 1340, the Duke of Lancaster, John of Gaunt, was born. He was a son of Edward III and thus a younger brother to the Black Prince, and is best known today for his love affair with Katherine Swynford and for not attempting to seize the throne of his young nephew, Richard II. I have often been urged to write about him and for a time I seriously considered it. But I reluctantly concluded that his life would not easily lend itself to a fictional treatment. He is better suited, IMHO, to play a supporting role, as he did in Anya Seton’s iconic Katherine. He will appear in my novel about Owain Glyn Dwr (assuming I live long enough to write that one) but that is the best I can do for him. March 6th is also the birthday of the great Italian artist, Michelangelo, who was born in 1475.

Happy Birthday, Henry

Reporting in the midst of yet another snowstorm. Today is the birthday of my favorite king, Henry II, who was born in Le Mans on March 5, 1133.
When Christ and His Saints Slept, page 51
* * *
When Minna briefly opened the shutters, Maude caught a glimpse of the darkening sky. Night was coming on. The women did what they could to ease her suffering, gave her feverfew in wine, fed her more honey to keep her strength up, brought a chamber pot when she had need of it, blotted away her sweat, cleaned up her bloody discharge, prepared a yarrow poultice in case she began to bleed heavily, and prayed to St Margaret and the Blessed Virgin for mother and child.
In the distance, a church bell was pealing. Was it a “passing be” tolling the death of a parishioner? A bell to welcome into the world a new Christian soul? Or was it the sound of Compline being rung? Maude had lost all track of time. And then the midwife gave a triumphant cry. “I see the head!”
Hastily pouring thyme oil into the palms of her hands, she knelt in the floor rushes at Maude’s feet, gently massaging the baby’s crown. Maude braced herself upon the birthing stool, groaning. The contractions no longer came in waves; she was caught up in a flood tide, unable to catch her breath or reach the shore. A voice was warning her not to bear down anymore. Hands were gripping hers, and she clung tightly, scoring Minna’s flesh with her nails. Her eyes were squeezed shut. When she opened them again, she saw her child, wet head and shoulders already free, squirming between her thighs into the midwife’s waiting hands.
“Almost there, my lady, almost….” Maude shuddered and jerked, then sagged back on the birthing stool. “Glory to God!” The jubilant midwife held up the baby, red and wrinkled and still bound to Maude’s body by a pulsing, blood-filled cord. “A son,” she laughed, “my lady, you have a son!”
* * *
The birthing chamber was as dangerous for a medieval woman as the battlefield was for a man. Ellen de Montfort and Joanna and two queens of Jerusalem were among those who died this way. Maude herself nearly died giving birth to Henry’s brother. And the mortality rate for the babies was often alarmingly high. I have seen it estimated that one of every five children did not live to the age of five. Eleanor was very unusual in that so many of her children survived to reach adulthood. Cecily of York lost a number of her children. So did Edward I’s queen, Eleanora. The roll call is a sad one.

The emperor, the sultan, and the king

Several important historical events occurred on March 4th. In 1152, Frederick Barbarossa was elected Holy Roman Emperor and cast a formidable shadow across Europe until his unexpected death as he led a German army toward the Holy Land in 1190. On March 4th in 1193, Saladin died of a lingering fever in Damascus at the age of fifty-five, and on March 4, 1215, John took the cross to placate the Pope and win papal support in his struggle with his barons; I don’t doubt that he did it with his fingers crossed, for John was as keen to go on crusade as his father, Henry, had been.
Meanwhile, we are awaiting yet another winter storm. This one was not named even though it brought us sleet and freezing rain today, rain tomorrow, and “significant snow” on Thursday. The storm named Thor dumped a ton of hail on Huntington Beach, CA and is now barreling east, leaving misery in its wake. The odds are that there will be at least one more and it occurred to me that a great name for it would be Uhtred, after our favorite Bernard Cornwell character. Maybe we should lobby the Weather Channel?

Alternate Welsh history

March 3, 1284 is not a happy date to remember for those of us who would have loved to see Llywelyn ap Gruffydd prevail over Edward Longshanks, as on this day the Statute of Rhuddlan was enacted, which—among other things—compelled the Welsh to accept English common law. But for a bittersweet What If, here is a link to an alternate history of Wales.
http://thisdayinalternatehistory.blog...