Sharon Kay Penman's Blog, page 79

Thanksgiving and the six wives of the Tudor Bluebeard

I hope that all of my friends and readers who will be doing holiday traveling today get to their destinations safely and on time, with a minimum of hassles and stress. We’re getting a Nor’easter tomorrow, but Thanksgiving is expected to be cold and clear. All good wishes for a Happy Thanksgiving to all of us who celebrate it.
And here is an entertaining quiz to occupy yourselves with. Have you ever wondered which of Henry VIII’s six wives you most identify with? Probably not, I know. However, here is your chance to find out. I was relieved to learn that I would have been Anne of Cleves in a past life, for I always thought she got the best deal of Henry’s wives—she didn’t have to sleep with him.
http://earlymodernengland.com/2014/11...

The medieval Titanic

On the evening of November 25, 1120, an event occurred that truly did change the course of European history. The White Ship’s sinking is often compared to the sinking of the Titanic, for both were “state of the art” vessels, both packed with highborn, wealthy, and powerful passengers, and the loss of both ships sent shock waves reverberating through their worlds. We can only speculate how the deaths of the Titanic passengers affected history, but we know for a certainty that the loss of the English king Henry’s only legitimate heir led to a civil war, a time so chaotic and wretched that the chroniclers claimed the people believed that “Christ and his Saints slept.” This sad period in English history, also known as The Anarchy, resulted in the coronation of a bold, strong-willed twenty-one-year old who would prove to be one of England’s great kings, Henry II, who founded a dynasty that would rule for over three hundred years. But if the White Ship had safely navigated the Narrow Sea separating Normandy and England, not only would Henry not have become king, he most likely would never have been born.
This is what a chronicler had to say about this maritime tragedy: "Here also perished with William, Richard, another of the King's sons, whom a woman without rank had borne him, before his accession, a brave youth, and dear to his father from his obedience; Richard d'Avranches, second Earl of Chester, and his brother Otheur; Geoffrey Ridel; Walter of Everci; Geoffrey, archdeacon of Hereford; the Countess of Chester; the king's niece Lucia-Mahaut of Blois; and many others ... No ship ever brought so much misery to England."
And here is a quote from my novel When Christ and his Saints Slept, page 22, as the sole survivor of the more than three hundred aboard the White Ship clung to the ship’s mast, waiting for death to claim him, too.
* * *
When he heard the voices, muffled and distorted in the fog, he felt a weary wonderment that his ordeal was over, that God’s good angels were coming for him at last. But they came not in winged chariots, as the priests had taught. Instead they glided out of the fog in a small fishing craft, its hull painted yellow and black, its single sail as bright as blood.
Berold tried to yell; it emerged as a hoarse croak. But they’d already seen him, were dipping their oars into the sea. And then they were alongside and one of the men had nimbly scrambled out onto the mast, cutting him loose, and Berold realized that for him, salvation had come in the unlikely guise of three Breton fishermen. He had been spared to bear witness, to tell the world that the White Ship had gone down off Barfleur Point, with the loss of the English king’s son and all aboard, save only a butcher’s lad from Rouen.
* * *
November 25th was also the date of the battle of Montgisard in 1177, in which the young leper king, Baldwin IV, and Reynald de Chatillon won an unlikely victory over Saladin. While this victory undoubtedly boosted the morale of the Kingdom of Jerusalem and gave the tragic Baldwin a rare moment of happiness, it did not change the balance of power and less than ten years later, Saladin would win a stunning triumph at the Horns of Hattin. Its primary significance today is that it is another fictional battle I must fight.:-)

To be a medieval queen--both a blessing and a curse

November 24, 1190 was a date of a marriage that changed the history of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. Guy de Lusignan’s queen, Sybilla, had died in October with their two young daughters; I am sentimental enough to hope that she was too ill to know that her children had died. Guy’s enemies were quick to argue that he had no claim to the crown in his own right, which had vested in Sybilla, now dead. They insisted that the throne should now pass to Sybilla’s half-sister, Isabella, but there was one huge stumbling block. She was wed to a man who was as suspect in the eyes of the Poulains as Guy himself was, Humphrey de Toron, whom I described in Lionheart as a man with the soul of a poet in a world of warriors. No one thought that Humphrey would make a good king, least of all Conrad of Montferrat, a swaggering adventurer who’d saved Tyre from falling to Saladin. Many thought Conrad would be a fine king, so a plan was set in motion to end Isabella’s marriage and then marry her off to Conrad despite the awkward fact that this marriage would be invalid under canon law. Humphey protested, of course, but he lost much sympathy when one of Conrad’s supporters challenged him to a duel and he refused to accept. His young wife was made of sterner stuff, though, and she balked, saying that she loved Humphrey and did not want to leave him. But history is filled with the sad stories of women forced to marry against their will. If even the Empress Maude could not withstand her father’s demand that she wed Geoffrey of Anjou, an eighteen year old girl had little chance of prevailing, not when her own mother urged her to yield. Isabella was eventually persuaded that it was her duty to marry Conrad, that he was their only hope of keeping Saladin from a total conquest of their beleaguered kingdom. As soon as the divorce was rushed through by compliant bishops, Isabella and Conrad were wed in the siege camp of Acre. The Lionheart’s nemesis, the Bishop of Beauvais, was up to his nasty neck in this illegal business; he would be. But Isabella then showed that there was more to her than beauty and royal blood, for her first act of authority was to restore to Humphrey the family lands that had unfairly been taken from him several years earlier. Humphrey never remarried and died young. Isabella’s own history had more than its share of sadness, too. While she seems to have found happiness with her third husband, Henri, the Count of Champagne, that marriage was cut short by Henri’s untimely death, and she had to marry again in haste, so urgent was the need for a strong king. Isabella was wed four times and widowed three times before her own death when she was only thirty-three.

The Yorkists in November

On a football Sunday, you all know I am not going to be posting much. But here are a few comments, mainly about the Yorkists. Yesterday was the birth date in 1428 of Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, who thought of himself as a Kingmaker but who fatally underestimated his cousin, Edward. On this date in 1499, Perkin Warbeck was hanged and on November 23, 1503, Edward and Richard’s sister Margaret, Duchess of Burgundy and devoted daughter of York, died at Mechelin at age 57. History usually identifies women by their husbands. There are a few exceptions, though. Eleanor of Aquitaine is one of the most noteworthy, for this queen of France and England is known for the duchy she so loved. Another exception is Margaret, who is often called Margaret of York in recognition of her fierce family loyalties.
Oh, and on November 23, 1272, the royal council in London sent word to Henry III’s eldest son that he was now England’s king. Edward had left the Holy Land by then, but he showed no urgency in returning home to claim his crown, not reaching England until August of 1274. He was recovering, of course, from the attack by an Assassin wielding a poisoned dagger and yes, I have wondered how dramatically history would have been changed, especially for the Welsh and Jews and Scots, if Edward’s attacker had better aim. The other reason why he saw no reason to hurry was that there were no other claimants for the throne, so he could take his time. Lastly, the legends to the contrary, his queen, Eleanora, is known to have loved him, but she did not suck the venom from his wound after the attack. Just for the record, it is never a good idea to try that with poisonous snake bites, either.

The dogs and the polar bears

Since most of us are shivering in frigid temperatures, this seemed a good time to post these links to this remarkable story of husky sled dogs making friends with polar bears in Churchill, Canada. Some of you have probably seen it already, but for those who haven’t, it is worth viewing.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5bcl0...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JE-Ny...

Medieval torture?

I hope all of my American friends and readers are coping with this brutal fore-taste of winter, and for all of you lucky enough to live in the Southern Hemisphere, count your blessings!
Here is a fun quiz from one of my favorite websites, Medievalists.net. According to my results, I’d be most likely to put enemies into the stocks, enjoying the psychological humiliation they would endure. I am tempted to take the quiz on behalf of several of my more bloodthirsty characters and see what gruesome punishments they’d have preferred.
http://www.medievalists.net/2014/11/1...

website woes

I want to alert you all that the Contact Sharon feature on my website has stopped working and apparently this has been true for several months. So there are quite a few messages that I never got, and quite a few readers are probably wondering why I never responded to their queries. I imagine that most of you will post on Facebook if you have a question for me, but in case any of you have used the website in the past few months, at least now you understand my silence. If anyone needs to contact me privately, it is better to do it via e-mail for now, at sharonkpenman@yahoo.com

A good family man, but a bad king

On the historical front, yesterday, November 16th, 1272, Henry III died, and I can only think of the wisecrack that Dorothy Parker made when she heard that Calvin Coolidge had died; she said, “How could anyone tell?” Henry had become an afterthought, a living ghost by then. He was not a successful king, but he left a splendid legacy that many more successful kings might well have envied—Westminster Abbey. And he was a devoted husband and a loving father, which might not count for much on the political stage, but it is not a bad epitaph for any man.
And today, November 17th, 1558, Mary Tudor died, thus enabling her brilliant younger sister, Elizabeth, to become queen. Mary was only 42, but she always seems older when we think of her, doesn’t she? She probably would have given a great deal to have her own epitaph read that she was a devoted wife and loving mother. Instead, history has judged her as Bloody Mary. I wonder if the drink is named after her?

Two books I want to read

Here are two books that I now have on my Kindle Fire, and am looking forward to reading them. Many of you are familiar with Kathryn Warner’s excellent website, the place to go for anyone wanting to learn about the reign of the ill-fated Edward II. Well, Kathryn has written a biography of Edward which I am sure will be of interest to many of my readers. It certainly is to me!
And Marcia DeSanctis has a new travel book out, 100 Places in France Every Woman Should Go. It looks fascinating, and I am delighted to report that she has a chapter titled On the Trail of Eleanor of Aquitaine; who wouldn’t want to read that, right? In addition to our Eleanor, Marcia also devotes attention to Joan of Arc, Napoleon, Catherine de Medici, George Sand, Marie Antoinette, Josephine Baker, Heloise and Abelard, among others, while taking readers to visit some of the most beautiful places in France.
http://www.amazon.com/Edward-II-Uncon...

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00NS3Y9CQ/r...

The one Angevin king I've not written about

November 13th was an interesting day in medieval history. On this date in 1143, King Fulk of Jerusalem died in a hunting accident, that was gruesomely detailed by William, Archbishop of Tyre (and a character in Outremer), probably the best historian of the MA:
“It happens in those days, when autumn was over, that the king and queen were sojourning for a time in the city of Acre. In order to vary the monotony by some agreeable recreation, the queen expressed a desire to go out of the city to a certain place in the suburbs where there were many springs. That she might not lack the pleasure of his company, the king attended her with his usual escort. As they were riding along, the servants who had preceded the train happened to rouse a hare which was lying in a furrow. It fled, followed by the shouts of all. The king, impelled by evil fate, seized his lance and joined the pursuit. In vigorous chase, he began to urge on his horse in that direction. Finally the steed, driven to reckless speed, stumbled and fell. The king was thrown headforemost to the ground. As he lay there, stunned by the pain of the fall, the saddle struck his head and his brains gushed forth from both ears and nostrils. The members of his escort, overcome with horror at the frightful accident, rushed to his aid as he lay upon the ground. They found him unconscious, however, unable to speak or understand.”
William then describes the queen’s grief: “She tore her garments and hair and by her loud shrieks and lamentations, gave proof of her intense grief. Flinging herself upon the ground, she embraced the lifeless body.”
Fulk was taken back to Acre, where William says he lived for three days, never regaining consciousness. Fulk was, of course, a former Count of Anjou before his marriage to Queen Melisende gave him the crown of Jerusalem. He was the father of Geoffrey and the grandfather of Henry, and his children and grandchildren were therefore related to the English royal House. Sharan Newman has written a compelling biography about Fulk’s strong-willed, capable queen, Melisende, Defending the City of God.
Also on November 10th, this time in 1160, Louis VII of France wed his third wife, the fifteen year old Adele of Blois, barely a month after his second wife, Constance of Castile, died giving birth to a daughter, the unlucky Alys. Henry was not pleased by this attempt to bind the powerful lords of Blois to the French crown, and countered the move by marrying his five year old son, Hal, to Louis’s infant daughter Marguerite, despite having promised Louis that the children would not be wed for years. Henry believed that diplomatic promises were more like suggestions than actual commitments, to paraphrase the Pirate’s Code in one of the Jack Sparrow films.
Finally, in 1312, the future Edward III was born. I’ve never been interested in writing about Edward, and apparently a lot of writers shared my indifference, for I can’t recall many novels featuring him. Any one remember any?