Juliet Waldron's Blog - Posts Tagged "richard-iii"
Old Dead Friends
I’ve spent a lot of my life fixating upon dead heroes, which means, as we turn into October, I’m entering my favorite other-worldly season. (Maybe “hero” isn’t quite the word, but “famous historical personalities” is unwieldy.) Richard III came into my life early, just pre-teen, via a discarded paperback, “The Daughter of Time” by Josephine Tey, fished from a wastebasket in the lounge of a 1950’s Barbados hotel. For some reason, this mystery story about a man whose chosen motto was “Loyalty Binds Me” and whose reputation had been unjustly blackened, started an obsessive fire in my brain which is, even 50 some years later, burning hotter than ever.
Richard started life in 1452, which is a long time ago—560 years at Fotheringhay Castle, now nothing more than a heap of earth where the original motte and bailey stood. As you can see from the picture, 500+ years doesn’t leave much behind! He was born on October 2, which makes him a Libra. If the Tudor spin doctors are to be believed, he was a seriously out of balance child of this supremely balanced heavenly sign. If the skeleton just recovered proves to be the King, it appears that he had a deformity at birth, a severe scoliosis, which would have caused his right shoulder to be carried high. He only lived for thirty-two years, but he (or his distorted shadow) has left a large mark on World consciousness via Shakespeare’s blood-and-thunder melodrama.
This blog is not about Richard, though. It’s about time, of which we humans don’t get a large slice. I’ve been flailing around more than twice as long as this particular dead hero, but have made not a jot of difference to the greater world. Still, King Richard, his fair wife, Anne Neville, and others of the bloody Plantagenet cousinage have been wandering about, talking, loving and fighting in my head since childhood. When the excavation in that Leicester car park came up with those bones--scoliosis, battle wounds, and all—it started the whole royal parade, complete with banners and drums, echoing inside my mind. The images come seeping out, a moving picture of antique glory superimposed over the ordinariness of daily life. I feel closer to these semi-imaginary long dead than I do to my neighbors. After all, these royal shadows have been with me from tropical beaches to Cornish cliffs and all the way to this present slough of suburban senior citizenship.
Richard started life in 1452, which is a long time ago—560 years at Fotheringhay Castle, now nothing more than a heap of earth where the original motte and bailey stood. As you can see from the picture, 500+ years doesn’t leave much behind! He was born on October 2, which makes him a Libra. If the Tudor spin doctors are to be believed, he was a seriously out of balance child of this supremely balanced heavenly sign. If the skeleton just recovered proves to be the King, it appears that he had a deformity at birth, a severe scoliosis, which would have caused his right shoulder to be carried high. He only lived for thirty-two years, but he (or his distorted shadow) has left a large mark on World consciousness via Shakespeare’s blood-and-thunder melodrama.
This blog is not about Richard, though. It’s about time, of which we humans don’t get a large slice. I’ve been flailing around more than twice as long as this particular dead hero, but have made not a jot of difference to the greater world. Still, King Richard, his fair wife, Anne Neville, and others of the bloody Plantagenet cousinage have been wandering about, talking, loving and fighting in my head since childhood. When the excavation in that Leicester car park came up with those bones--scoliosis, battle wounds, and all—it started the whole royal parade, complete with banners and drums, echoing inside my mind. The images come seeping out, a moving picture of antique glory superimposed over the ordinariness of daily life. I feel closer to these semi-imaginary long dead than I do to my neighbors. After all, these royal shadows have been with me from tropical beaches to Cornish cliffs and all the way to this present slough of suburban senior citizenship.
A GIFT FROM THE DUKE OF GLOUCESTER
Young Duke Richard of Gloucester has gone to his brother's court in London, as the rift between King Edward and the Earl of Warwick deepens. Daringly, Richard has presented his cousin Anne with a ring as a going-away present, but he's also left something for Rose...
"...It was several days before we were permitted to ride. As usual, True Thomas came to accompany us. He lifted Anne onto her Precious, and made certain the saddle was tight by surreptitiously punching the pony in the stomach. Precious coughed, stamped a back foot and glared, but she had a naughty trick of bloating her stomach, and this would let the saddle slip.
I climbed from the mounting block onto the little strawberry pony, mine to ride with my mistress. Every time I did this, I wanted to pinch myself. Horseback was an experience a peasant rarely enjoyed. Horses were for the wealthy. Ox carts or "shanks mare" sufficed for my low kind.
As I gathered up the reins and adjusted my seat, Thomas appeared at my side.
"Gotten yourself up, have you?"
Anne, in a hurry to escape the confines of Middleham bailey, had already started off.
I began to say that I had been getting myself up for the last year, when I realized it was a ruse. Thomas had something in his hand, something he wanted me to take.
"For you, Rosalba," he whispered softly, "from a young Lord who says he will miss you, too."
I gazed in astonishment at an enameled white rose, a pendant strung on a fine strand of braided silver thread.
"Thomas--" I began.
"My Lord of Gloucester prays you will take special good care of Lady Anne," Thomas interjected. Then, with a wink and a knowing look, he added, "Further, the duke also says you are to understand that this is a gift and no wage."
For a "Downstairs" view of the romance of Richard of Gloucester and Anne Neville: ROAN ROSE
Readers say:
..."If you are a fan of all things Richard III, as I am, don't pass this one up."
"...I loved the strength of this woman..."
"...Powerful Sense of Time and Place"
"...Waldron certainly knows her history...Yet despite its accuracy ... Roan Rose is ultimately a book about character..." Meredith Whitford, Author of "Treason."
http://www.julietwaldron.com
"...It was several days before we were permitted to ride. As usual, True Thomas came to accompany us. He lifted Anne onto her Precious, and made certain the saddle was tight by surreptitiously punching the pony in the stomach. Precious coughed, stamped a back foot and glared, but she had a naughty trick of bloating her stomach, and this would let the saddle slip.
I climbed from the mounting block onto the little strawberry pony, mine to ride with my mistress. Every time I did this, I wanted to pinch myself. Horseback was an experience a peasant rarely enjoyed. Horses were for the wealthy. Ox carts or "shanks mare" sufficed for my low kind.
As I gathered up the reins and adjusted my seat, Thomas appeared at my side.
"Gotten yourself up, have you?"
Anne, in a hurry to escape the confines of Middleham bailey, had already started off.
I began to say that I had been getting myself up for the last year, when I realized it was a ruse. Thomas had something in his hand, something he wanted me to take.
"For you, Rosalba," he whispered softly, "from a young Lord who says he will miss you, too."
I gazed in astonishment at an enameled white rose, a pendant strung on a fine strand of braided silver thread.
"Thomas--" I began.
"My Lord of Gloucester prays you will take special good care of Lady Anne," Thomas interjected. Then, with a wink and a knowing look, he added, "Further, the duke also says you are to understand that this is a gift and no wage."
For a "Downstairs" view of the romance of Richard of Gloucester and Anne Neville: ROAN ROSE
Readers say:
..."If you are a fan of all things Richard III, as I am, don't pass this one up."
"...I loved the strength of this woman..."
"...Powerful Sense of Time and Place"
"...Waldron certainly knows her history...Yet despite its accuracy ... Roan Rose is ultimately a book about character..." Meredith Whitford, Author of "Treason."
http://www.julietwaldron.com
