A belated look at February 13th and why it mattered so much to two queens

I suppose I could explain away my absence by claiming I was trapped in a tower by a hungry dragon, but the truth is far more mundane—I am bogged down doing my income taxes. I’d almost prefer the dragon. The news from the UK continues to be troubling, with more flooding today in Wales and parts of Yorkshire; I don’t think the water has yet receded in those villages and towns in Herefordshire and Shropshire that were hit with awful flooding last weekend. But here is a flicker of light in the darkness, a heartwarming article about how ordinary people are stepping up to help their beleaguered countrymen. Below that is one of my Today in History Posts, albeit a late one.
https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-h...
On February 13, 1177, Henry and Eleanor’s youngest daughter, Joanna, was wed in Palermo to William, the King of Sicily and then crowned as his consort. She was all of eleven years old. It is hard for us to imagine sending children off to foreign lands to marry strangers at such young ages, but this was the way of life for the highborn in the MA. Surely some parents must have felt some qualms, though, for the safety or wellbeing of their daughters. Some of these marriages were happy ones; Joanna’s older sister Leonora came to love her husband, the King of Castile. Some were not as successful and some brought only misery to the young brides; surely the worst case was that of Agnes, daughter of Louis VII of France, sent off to wed the son of the Byzantine emperor at age eight; her young husband would be murdered and she would be forced to wed his killer, a man whose reign was so brutal that the citizens of Constantinople rose up against him and he fled the city with his favorite concubine and his little French bride. He was later captured and died rather gruesomely, but Agnes was spared.
Joanna encountered no such horrors in Sicily and was well treated by her husband, although he did keep a harem of Saracen slave girls. She would be widowed young, imprisoned by the man who usurped her husband’s throne, and then rescued by her brother Richard and accompanied him on crusade. Here is the account by Roger de Hoveden of Joanna’s introduction to her new life in Sicily. It had been a rough trip for her; she’d been escorted into Poitou by her eldest brother Hal, and then Richard escorted her all the way to St Gilles, where she was turned over to the Sicilian envoys. On the voyage, she’d suffered so severely from seasickness that the fleet had to hand at Naples and continue on land. But she was given a magnificent welcome into Palermo.
“The whole city welcomed them, and lamps, so many and so large, were lighted up, that the city almost seemed to be on fire…for it was by night that they entered the city of Palermo. The said daughter of the King of England was then escorted, mounted on one of the king’s horses, and resplendent with regal garments, to a certain palace, that there she might in becoming state await the day of her marriage and coronation.
After the expiration of a few days, the before-named daughter of the King of England was married to William, King of Sicily, and solemnly crowned at Palermo, in the royal chapel there, in the presence of Gilles, Bishop of Evreux and the envoys of the King of England.”
That same day William issued a charter in Joanna’s favor, providing generously for her dowry, describing her as “the maiden Joanna, of royal blood, and the most illustrious daughter of Henry, the mighty king of the English, to the end that her fidelity and chaste affection may produce the blessings of the married state.”

And on February 13, 1542, silly little Catherine Howard became yet another victim of her husband’s monstrous ego. When Henry VIII discovered that she’d had a colorful past prior to their marriage, he was so outraged that he pushed a bill of attainder through Parliament making it treason for an “unchaste” woman to marry the king, then sent Catherine to the Tower, where she was beheaded on this date. In the past, we’ve talked of Jane Grey, who paid with her life for her family’s all-consuming ambition. So did Catherine Howard, although she had none of Jane’s intelligence or education, which makes her pathetic story all the sadder. Marriage to the aging, ailing, hot-tempered Henry was more than punishment enough for any sins of her feckless youth. Despite the legend, though, she did not say that she died the Queen of England but would rather have died the wife of Thomas Culpepper. Those about to be executed in Tudor England did not make defiant gallows speeches, wanting to spare their family from royal retribution. But Catherine really did ask for the block to be brought to her the night before her execution; she wanted to practice kneeling and putting her head upon it so she would be sure to do it correctly come the morning. How pitiful is that?