Excerpt Thursday: RUMORS AT COURT by Blythe Gifford

Today, we have a peek at the newest release from long-time Unusual Historicals contributor Blythe Gifford, RUMORS AT COURT, out now from the Harlequin Historical line.  Blythe will be back on Sunday for an interview about the book.  She’ll be focusing on the joys and challenges of using real historical figures in fiction, so this excerpt includes a scene featuring several of the real people who are part of the story.

 

RUMORS AT COURT is the third Royal Wedding story.  All three are set in the 14^th century English court of Edward III.  This time, while the royal wedding in the book is that of Edward’s son Edmund to Isabella of Castile, the royal marriage at the center of the book is that of Constanza of Castile, Isabella’s older sister, to John of Gaunt, Edward’s third son.  Through marriage to Constanza, Gaunt assumed the title of King of Castile. Also a character in the book is Katherine Swynford, who became Gaunt’s mistress.  (Blythe wrote about her here.)

 

But the center of the story is the romance between two fictional characters, who serve John and Constanza.  Here’s a recap:

 

Wed by royal command! 

Widow Valerie of Florham wants nothing more than to forget her abusive marriage and live peacefully at the mercy of no man. She'd never have dreamed of a liaison with handsome Sir Gil Wolford, but then comes a royal decree—they must wed! 

Gil craves military conquest in Castile, far from his haunted past. Marriage to Lady Valerie is the last thing he should want, yet both have truths to hide from the rumormongers at court. They have no choice…and, once wed, the marriage bed changes everything!

RTBookreviews gave it a 4-Star review, writing “delights on every level, from the sumptuous settings to the whispered…rumors spinning through the royal court.  …Gifford’s characters are always well developed and…deeply resistant to a new passion…until, of course, love gets its way…”

 

From Chapter One of RUMORS AT COURT:

The Savoy Palace, London—February 9^th, 1372

 

The English and Castilian ladies were shepherded into the palace and then to the Hall side by side, close enough for Valerie to hear the foreign chatter. She could not follow all the words, but the lilt of the language, the faint scent of Castilian soap, seemed familiar.

Perhaps her blood remembered these things. Blood that had come from another Castilian woman exiled to England, generations ago. Like Constanza, Queen of Castile, she, too, had been taken from her home and sent to a distant place.

Valerie touched the brooch of copper and enamel on her gown, a reminder of her long-dead relative. She must hold her head high amidst the unfamiliar trappings of court. Soon enough, she would be allowed to return to the earth of her home and her garden, slumbering now in winter.

The Queen reached the front of the Hall and turned to face the room. Valerie squinted, trying to see her clearly. She was fair, even sallow. Were her eyes blue? Too far to see, but her nose looked longish for the fashion, her figure tall and sturdy.

Her looks, in truth, were unimportant. Her gift to her husband was her country, not her beauty. And a woman, even a royal one, had no more choices than any other woman. She must marry for reasons of state, no matter what her heart. And if she wanted to be Queen in fact instead of just in name, this woman needed a man both willing and wealthy enough to fight for her kingdom.

Suddenly, the Queen touched a hand to her belly and the curtain of women around her closed tightly.

Were the rumours true? The Queen had arrived in England months ago, but had stayed in the country, some said because of the early ills of being with child.

The Duke—Valerie could still not think of him as a king—would have wasted no time getting an heir on her. They both needed to prove they could produce another generation to sit on Castile’s throne, so that might be the reason the woman did not look her best. All would be forgiven if she bore a son.

Something Valerie had failed to do.

‘She looks so young,’ Lady Katherine, next to her, whispered.

Valerie murmured something that might be mistaken for assent. The Queen was nearly Valerie’s own age and only a few years younger than Lady Katherine. Katherine, too, was newly widowed and had three children of her own. She might be feeling the length of her life.

Though she mourns her husband no more than I do mine.

She could not say how she knew. They had met only recently and never spoken of it, but Valerie felt certain that they both recited the requisite prayers for the loss of a husband while secretly revelling in their new freedom.

The line of ladies shielding the Queen parted. The Queen had settled into a chair at the front of the hall beside the Duke. Her sister came to stand beside her and the procession of lords and ladies shuffled into line to be presented.

Valerie, following Katherine, was surprised and honoured that she had been invited to this ceremony. Her husband had been a knight, but a lowly one. Lady Katherine’s husband had been the same, but she was here because she took care of the Duke’s children by his first wife. Now, she would move into his second wife’s household, a strong link to what the Queen needed to know about England and, perhaps, even about her husband.

As Valerie was presented to at least a dozen of the Queen’s ladies, she was called upon to do little beyond nod politely. The Queen’s people smiled, silent, not attempting the unfamiliar tongue.

Even the Queen remained impassive in the face of all the introductions. Surely the poor woman had absorbed nothing about the strangers paraded before her.

Then, Valerie heard her name called and knelt before the Queen. A flurry of conversation, the Duke, speaking to the interpreter, who then spoke to the Queen.

Descended from one who came to England with Eleanor of Castile, wife of the first Edward.

Ah, it was her ancestor who had brought her here, the woman who had served that other foreign Queen nearly a hundred years ago.

Finally, the Queen understood and nodded. ‘Habla la lengua de sus antepasados?’

Now she was the one who struggled to understand. Speak? Did she speak…?

She was a widow now. She could speak aloud, even to a queen, without looking over her shoulder for her husband’s permission. And yet, the language of Castile was as foreign to her as hers was to the Queen.

She shook her head. ‘Only enough to say Bienvenida.' That meant welcome. At least, she thought it did.

It was enough to make the Queen smile. ‘Gracias.’ She stretched out a hand, touching the brooch with reverent fingers, then spoke to her interpreter.

‘La Reina wishes to know, is the brooch you wear hers?’

Valerie smiled. ‘Yes, Your Grace. It, too, came from Castile.’ The Queen, the story went, had been generous to her ladies.

Nodding, this Queen cleared her throat and spoke, each word careful and distinct. ‘We to meet again.’

The words touched her like a benediction. ‘I hope so, Your Grace.’

Valerie paused to kneel before the Duke—no, the King—barely looking at him as she hugged the Queen’s words close to her heart.

When she rose, still smiling, and turned away, it was to come face to face with the knight she had seen earlier at the Duke’s right hand. Dark, ragged brows shielded pale blue eyes. His nose and cheeks were sharply carved. He looked to be a man, like her husband, more at home in battle than in the Hall.

She nodded, courteous. Waiting.

‘Lady Valerie, I am Sir Gilbert Wolford.’

Her momentary glow faded. ‘The man they call The Wolf.’

The one who had commanded her husband to his death.

  

About the author:

After many years in public relations, advertising and marketing, Blythe Gifford started writing seriously after a corporate layoff. Ten years and one layoff later, she became an overnight success when she sold her first book to the Harlequin Historical line.  Since then, she has published ten books, primarily set in England and on the Scottish Borders, most revolving around real historical figures and events.  For more information, visit her webpage: www.blythegifford.com, find her on

Facebook: www.facebook.com/BlytheGifford

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Or Goodreads:  www.goodreads.com/author/show/672889.Blythe_Gifford

Author photo Jennifer Girard  Excerpt © 2017 Wendy B. Gifford, all rights reserved

Cover Art used by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises Limited.  All rights reserved. ®and T are trademarks of Harlequin Enterprises Limited and/or its affiliated companies, used under license. Copyright 2017

Mistresses: María de Padilla, Practical Queen of Castile

María de Padilla and Pedro of Castile with María's coat of arms 

By J. K. Knauss 

María de Padilla met King Pedro of Castile during the summer of 1352, when she was eighteen years old, “intelligent, beautiful, and small in size,” according to contemporary chronicles. The king, who was also eighteen at the time, recognized in her a kindred spirit, and she quickly became the love of his life. Although Pedro’s monarch status obliged him to marry more politically advantageous women, María’s willingness to accept his love outside the bonds of matrimony earned her an important place in European history and the royal gene pool. Indeed, it’s difficult to take two steps in Sevilla and in some parts of Castilla y León today without coming across a monument dedicated to her, a room she lived in, or a monastery she founded.

A salon in the King Pedro area of the Royal Palace in Sevilla
Photo by J. K. Knauss 

King Pedro (r. 1350–1369) has not one but two sobriquets recorded in the history books: the Cruel, or the Just. This reflects the complex panorama of the time. He was loved or hated, but no one was indifferent to his policies in a war with Aragón, or his stance regarding what would become the Hundred Years War. These were the early days of sociopolitical turmoil following the Black Death, which had already devastated the Iberian Peninsula and would strike again during Pedro’s reign.

María came of noble lineage, and many of her family members were appointed to high offices at court. It was probably inevitable that she and the king would meet at some time, but it happened to occur during a trip the king made to Asturias to deal with Enrique, his half-brother who would eventually kill him and take the crown, beginning the Trastámara dynasty.

The Salon of María de Padilla as it was furnished in 1892.
Courtesy of pastpictures.org 

Many stories have circulated about the king marrying María in secret soon after he met her, and later glossing over the legally valid ceremony because of political pressures to marry Blanche of Bourbon, first cousin of the King of France. The marriage failed spectacularly, and a later one was also short-lived and lacking issue. María, on the other hand, gave Pedro four children: Beatriz, who became a nun at Tordesillas; Constanza, who married John of Gaunt because King Pedro’s loyalties really lay with the English; Isabel, who married Edmund of Langley; and a son who didn’t survive childhood.

Her unsanctioned relationship with Pedro caused the historians of her time to overlook her accomplishments. While it’s possible she stayed out of the political arena, it seems unlikely she never told the king what she thought of any of the volatile issues of his reign. She is on record as buying expensive properties and founding the convent of Santa Clara de Astudillo. All of the buildings associated with her feature elegant mudéjar and Gothic architecture.

The author pretends to be María de Padilla on a hot September day. 

María died at about 27 years of age in 1361, possibly as a result of plague. Her body was buried in the convent she had founded. But her remains were soon transferred to join other members of the royal family in the royal chapel in the cathedral of Sevilla, where they still rest today. This move could have been motivated by Pedro’s continued devotion, but it was also strategic in gaining recognition of María’s son, Alfonso, as Pedro’s heir. In any case, María de Padilla is remembered as Pedro’s queen, in the practical sense if not by law.

The "Baths of María de Padilla" below the Gothic area
of the Royal Palace in Sevilla are actually
the rain catchment system. Photo by J. K. Knauss 

Although mostly unappreciated in her time, María’s story has captivated novelists and artists ever since. A nineteenth-century opera offers two emotional interpretations of her historical status. In the first version, which was rejected by censors, María seizes the crown from Blanche of Bourbon’s head and then commits suicide. In the final version, Pedro proclaims María as his queen instead of Blanche, and María perishes from the overwhelming joy of attaining what later critics believe must have been her most fervent wish.

A driven fiction writer, J. K. Knauss has edited many fine historical novels and is a bilingual freelance editor. Her historical epic, Seven Noble Knights, will be released by Encircle Publications December 11, 2020. J. K. Knauss earned a PhD in medieval Spanish with a dissertation on the portrayal of Alfonso X’s laws in the Cantigas de Santa Maria, which has been published as the five-star-rated Law and Order in Medieval Spain. Look for her book based on the Cantigas, coming in 2021. On the contemporary side, her YA/NA paranormal Awash in Talent was published by Kindle Press. Find out more about her writing and bookish activities here. Follow her on Facebook and Twitter, too!

Odd Jobs: Clowns, Jesters, and Fools in Medieval and Tudor England

 Even in medieval times, people needed entertainment.  And court entertainers, fools, jesters, jugglers, minstrels, led a life much different from both their royal “employers” and the run of the mill populace.

Of course, to have a position as a court fool was the height of luxury.  There were also freelance entertainers, including fools, who not only provided amusement, they also might do acrobatics and play instruments.  They might be hired by taverns or brothels, by cities for participation in public pageants, or they might be part of a touring company that would travel between noble households, “singing for their supper.”  Indeed, many more were itinerant entertainers than permanent residents.

Indeed, “fol” may not have been a full-time position, as Henry III’s payments to “John the Fol,” named him also a forester and huntsman, but the court fool was a particularly privileged position, for in making fun, he could say things that other people couldn’t.  One of history’s favorite tales is of the defeat of the French fleet by the English fleet at the Battle of Sluys in 1340.  No one could summon the courage to tell the French king, Phillippe VI, the news.  Finally, the court jester told him the English sailors were cowards, because they “don't even have the guts to jump into the water like our brave French.”



This portrait of Henry VIII and his family shows "Jane the Fool" in the archway on the left and "Wil Somer" in the archway on the right, suggesting they were considered members of the family.

Of course, kings were not always so amused when a royal fool overstepped his bounds.  It was reported in a letter from the ambassador to England from the Holy Roman Empire, that Henry VIII had “nearly murdered his own fool, a simple and innocent man.”  The crime?  Speaking well of the king’s first wife, Catherine of Aragon, and her daughter Mary, while disparaging Anne Boleyn and her “bastard” daughter.

The Tudor and Elizabethan eras were considered a “Golden Age” of folly and most of the Tudor kings and queens record regular payments and expenses for court fools.  By this time, we begin to have more information about these people, partly because having one’s personal fool was no longer limited to royalty.  Several prominent men of the time, such as Cardinal Wolsey and Sir Thomas More also had their own fools.

It does seem as if there were two distinct types of court fools:  the “artificial” fool and the “natural” fool, but the records don’t always allow us to clearly distinguish one from the other.



Richard Tarlton

An artificial fool is what most of us think of when we think of a jester.  This is a person of sharp wit, able to say amusing things on demand.  A medieval standup comedian, if you will.  Like so many things about the world past, we don’t have detailed information so we don’t know much what was so amusing about them.  (No one kept detailed notes on the fool’s scripts.)



A “natural” fool is one that is intellectually or developmentally disabled or even mentally ill.  This person might be dressed up and laughed at, kept somewhat like a pet as a part of the family.  Certainly, this seems like unimaginable cruelty to us today.  But some of the financial records, which indicate payments to a fool’s “keeper,” suggest that they realized these men (or women) were not capable of caring for themselves.  And as members of a royal household, they were fed and clothed, not left to wander the streets alone.

Even distinguishing which fools were natural and which artificial is a challenge.  “Patch,” Cardinal Wolsey’s fool, was so honored that when Cardinal Wolsey fell from Henry VIII’s favor, he gifted the king with his fool, perhaps to be certain that the man was provided for.

The king’s records show that Patch had several “keepers,” and the fact that he could, literally, be given away suggests he might be a “natural” fool, kept like a pet for amusement, but also needing “keepers,” unable to take care of himself.

More famous, however, were the actors who took to the stage.  Richard Tarlton, said to be Queen Elizabeth’s favorite fool, was an actor, a dancer, a fencer, a musician, and a man famous for his witty banter.  He was said to have studied “natural” fools in order to enhance his stage performance.



William Kempe on right, doing a jig.

Many of our impressions of the medieval fool come from Shakespeare, who created memorable characters in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” “King Lear,” and other plays.  Two prominent comic actors played many of these signature roles:  William Kempe and Robert Armin.

Kempe played such roles as Dogberry in “Much Ado About Nothing,” Bottom in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” and he was famous for his “jigs,” a combination of dance and physical comedy, often performed by a troupe of dancers.

Armin succeeded Kempe as a member of the Chamberlain’s Men.  His style was less physical comedy and more comedic wit.  Hence, the roles of Feste in “Twelfth Night,” and Touchstone in “As You Like It” are considered his.  These are more acerbic, philosopher-fools, though as an actor he was not limited to these parts.

Truly by this time, there was money to be made by making people laugh.   

John Southworth’s FOOLS AND JESTERS AT THE ENGLISH COURT, Sutton Publishing, 1998, 2003, was the source of much of the information in this piece.

After many years in public relations, advertising and marketing, Blythe Gifford started writing seriously after a corporate layoff. Ten years and one layoff later, she became an overnight success when she sold her first book to the Harlequin Historical line.  Since then, she has published eleven romances set in England and on the Scottish Borders.  RUMORS AT COURT, a Royal Wedding story, will be released in May, 2017, from the Harlequin Historical line.  For more information, visit www.blythegifford.com

 

 

Author photo Jennifer Girard

 

Author Interview & Book Giveaway: Carol McGrath on THE BETROTHED SISTER

This week, we're welcoming author Carol McGrath again, whose latest title is THE BETROTHED SISTER, book #3 of The Daughters of Hastings trilogy. One lucky visitor will get a free copy of The Betrothed Sister. Be sure to leave your email address in the comments of today's author interview for a chance to win. Winner(s) are contacted privately by email. Here's the blurb.

It is 1068 and led by Countess Gytha the Godwin royal women are about to set out into exile after the Siege of Exeter. Princess Thea, known to history as Gita is King Harold’s eldest daughter and the book’s engaging protagonist. She carries revenge in her heart for the Normans who killed her father at the Battle of Hastings. Once in Demark her uncle, the king, betroths her to a most eligible prince, his third wife’s nephew, Vladimir of Kiev. Will her betrothal and marriage bring her happiness, as she confronts enemies from inside and outside Rus territories? Will she prove herself the courageous princess she surely is, win her husband’s respect and establish her independence in a society protective towards its women?

**Q&A with Carol McGrath**

Can You Explain a little of the background to The Betrothed Sister?

The Betrothed Sister is the story of King Harold II’s elder daughter. After The Battle of Hastings, we lose track of King Harold’s immediate family. I cannot be sure with whom Harold’s elder daughter lived before 1068 and her exile. She did travel with her grandmother and brothers into exile in Denmark. This is recorded history. Her mother is not mentioned after a reference in The Waltham Chronicle which says that Edith Swan-neck identified her hand-fasted husband’s body on the battlefield of Senlac Hill, known as The Battle of Hastings, by marks only known to her. This was written a half century after the events on the basis of memory. Edith shows up in a mention in John of Worcester as having entered a nunnery. It is my suggestion that Thea-Gytha and thus Gita to the Rus, accompanied the noble ladies of Exeter into exile following William the Conqueror’s siege of that city in 1068. They are documented in The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle as having first travelled to Flatholm, an island in the Severn Estuary. Later that year they travelled to Flanders. Thea continued with her grandmother and brothers to Denmark. The journey out is where The Betrothed Sister opens. The Godwin Diaspora is fascinating and its women are the subject of The Daughters of Hastings Trilogy. The books are linked but they are also stand-alone. This one is my personal favourite.

How did you go about researching The Betrothed Sister?

I read Slavonic Studies at University. I have a knowledge of Russian language. I know where to seek out information as a result and researched in the Oxford Bodliean and The Oxford Slavonic Studies library. I found information in The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, more in John of Worcester’s Chronicle and fascinating information about life in Kyiv in the Russian Primary Chronicle. These women are like shadows. At best they get tiny mentions. I looked at secondary source material to fill in the gaps and imagine their lives. I delved into what it was like to be a Rus noblewoman in the 11thC. For example, I discovered that they lived protected lives, more so than their English equivalents, in a palace or kremlin Terem, not to be confused with harem, since Rus princes were generally deeply religious and indeed were allegedly monogamous. Women were very valued as the Rus law codes of the period show. Read the book and find out how this worked. In addition to this research I visited the Viking Exhibition in London. That was informative as was a trip to Iceland, as alas Kyiv was off limits. Books I read on this period in Denmark fed into the story of Thea’s betrothal. Kyiv (Kiev) is on the Dnieper and major trade routes. All this is absorbed into a thrilling adventure historical story.

Any surprises?

Yes, I discovered that Elizaveta, wife of Harold Harthrada who was defeated and killed by King Harold married Sweyn King of Denmark. This information has been researched by Russian Medieval scholar, Janet Martin. Her books are excellent. You can see the connections between the Danish court and that of Kiev post 1066. It was an historical titbit as Thea’s father was responsible for Harthrada’s death.  Harthrada’s daughter was also married to one of Sweyn’s sons. I easily found themes of jealousy and revenge to work out through the novel.

Which part of the research interested you most?

The Viking Exhibition in London and Rus weddings are interesting. The concept of the Rusnyk embroidery fascinated me. Women recorded important events from their lives in embroidery. This also contributed to the Tapestry theme throughout these novels.

What Next?

Before I embark on a new Medieval Trilogy I am writing a stand-alone novel about an early Tudor lady who is another historical shadow. I cannot reveal her identity yet but this novel contains intrigue and the imagined life of a London woman merchant circa 1509-20.

Thank you to Unusual Historicals for hosting me today.

The series is available at Amazon.com and amazon.co.uk and from all good bookshops

Learn more about author Carol McGrath

https://www.facebook.com/daughtersofhastings

http://scribbling-inthemargins.blogspot.gr/

http://www.goodreads.com/author/dashboard

Follow me on Twitter @carolmcgrath

http://pinterest.com/carol0275/

www.carolcmcgrath.co.uk

Excerpt Thursday: THE BETROTHED SISTER by Carol McGrath

This week, we're welcoming author Carol McGrath again, whose latest title is THE BETROTHED SISTER, book #3 of The Daughters of Hastings trilogy. Join us again on Sunday for an author interview, with more details about the story behind the story. One lucky visitor will get a free copy of The Betrothed Sister. Be sure to leave your email address in the comments of today's post or Sunday's author interview for a chance to win. Winner(s) are contacted privately by email. Here's the blurb.

It is 1068 and led by Countess Gytha the Godwin royal women are about to set out into exile after the Siege of Exeter. Princess Thea, known to history as Gita is King Harold’s eldest daughter and the book’s engaging protagonist. She carries revenge in her heart for the Normans who killed her father at the Battle of Hastings. Once in Demark her uncle, the king, betroths her to a most eligible prince, his third wife’s nephew, Vladimir of Kiev. Will her betrothal and marriage bring her happiness, as she confronts enemies from inside and outside Rus territories? Will she prove herself the courageous princess she surely is, win her husband’s respect and establish her independence in a society protective towards its women?

**An Excerpt from The Betrothed Sister**

Chapter One

Thea glanced up at the thin, fragile moon. Despite all that had happened since the Normans stole England, anticipation gripped her. By the time that moon grew fat again they would be settled in their new home. She moved her lips in prayer to her name-day saint, St Theodosia. ‘Gracious lady, grant us a warm hall, fine furniture and new clothing, and take a care for my brother Magnus.’ Surely her saint would answer her prayer.

Yet, Thea did not confess to her saint her deepest and most secret wish. She wanted revenge on William the Bastard. She wanted revenge not only on him but on his whole House for his destruction of her father, the kidnap of her brother Ulf by William, her mother’s seclusion and the murder of her brother, Magnus. If St Theodosia knew what lay in her heart, she knew it already. Thea wanted vengeance and until she had it, her life would never be complete again. One day, the Bastard, William of Normandy, false king of England, would die an ignoble death, unloved by his children and preferably in great pain because she, Thea, daughter of the great King Harold, wanted him to suffer for what he had done to her family. And, she added this to her thought – one day she would marry a warrior prince who hated the Normans as much as she did and who would help her brothers recover their kingdom. She started. Voices were falling towards them, dropping from the direction of the cliff below the monastery, coming closer.

She twisted round to see the rest of their women following a monk who was swinging a lantern. Their ladies, who were wrapped in their warmest woollen mantles, came in a snaking line down the cliff path to the beach. All of them, even the five children, were carrying small bundles. When the group reached the shingle, the women gathered up cloaks and skirts and bunching the thick escaping material into their hands they began wading out to climb into the fleet of skiffs. Edmund and Padar, their warrior poet, took an arm here and a hand there. They lifted the older women, swinging in turn each of a tiny band of confused children from one to the other over the lapping water. Finally they deposited the women and their offspring into the assorted fishing craft that would ferry them to the big-sailed ships which were to carry them over the Narrow Sea.

The series is available at Amazon.com and amazon.co.uk and from all good bookshops

Learn more about author Carol McGrath

https://www.facebook.com/daughtersofhastings

http://scribbling-inthemargins.blogspot.gr/

http://www.goodreads.com/author/dashboard

Follow me on Twitter @carolmcgrath

http://pinterest.com/carol0275/

www.carolcmcgrath.co.uk

For Love's Sake: Edward I and the Eleanor Crosses

by Heather Domin

King Edward I and Queen Eleanor
of Castile (Lincoln Cathedral)

Edward I of England has a bit of a bad rap, historically speaking: the ruthless Leopard Prince, the dreaded Longshanks, Hammer of the Scots, responsible for the brutal subjugation of Wales as well as the mass expulsion and murder of England's Jews. It's a fair cop, but for all his brutality King Edward did have one notable soft spot, one famous chink in his stony exterior: his wife, Eleanor of Castile. Not only did Edward love his queen deeply, which was rare in arranged royal marriages, but by all accounts he was faithful to Eleanor and kept no mistresses, which was almost unheard of. 

They married when both were quite young — Edward was 14, Eleanor a mere 13 — and so in a way they grew up together, which may have been part of the reason for their unusually close bond. Eleanor loved her husband as much as he loved her, and they were soul mates for over three decades. She had little political power and appears not to have influenced the King's rule (which may be another reason he loved her so much), but she made a devoted queen and helpmeet, following Edward on Crusade to the Holy Land despite being heavily pregnant and regularly accompanying him on his progresses through the kingdom. Together they had over a dozen children (possibly as many as 17!), which was quite a few even by the standards of the day. With Eleanor, Edward's famously fierce demeanor was softened; by all accounts he treated her kindly and gently, and could at times even be playfully romantic.

the Northampton Cross, one of the 3
surviving original Eleanor Crosses 

After 35 years of marriage, Edward was at Eleanor's bedside when she died of fever in 1290. Her death left the tough-as-nails king devastated and emotionally distraught. The court had been on progress when Eleanor took ill, and she died near the city of Lincoln; as her funeral cortege made its way back to London, Edward marked the places they stopped each night along the journey. At each location he ordered the creation of monuments that came to be known as the Eleanor Crosses, twelve stone pillars carved like miniature cathedrals to commemorate each place his queen lay in state on her final journey: Lincoln, Grantham, Stamford, Geddington, Northampton, Stratford, Woburn, Dunstable, St. Albans, Waltham, Cheapside, and finally Charing. They were meant as shrines, both to honor Eleanor's memory and for passersby to stop and pray for her soul. Never had an English queen been honored in such a way, and the fact that King Edward, who bled his nation for taxes to fund his wars and conquests, would use those funds for such an emotional purpose made it even more remarkable. The Eleanor Crosses are a monument to love and devotion in the reign of a king remembered mostly for his ruthlessness and cruelty.

Of the twelve Eleanor Crosses, only three survive, though the foundations of several others are still visible. Some locations replaced their lost original with a replica, and copies have been built in various towns across England; the most famous of these is Charing Cross in London, which was built during the Victorian era. Most of the cities where the original crosses stood have some type of monument or commemorative plaque either near the site or in a museum, telling the story of the Eleanor Crosses and honoring the memory of a queen who was so dearly beloved by her king, and the notoriously warlike king who went to such great lengths for love's sake. 

---

Heather Domin is the author of Allegiance, set in 1922 Dublin, and The Soldier of Raetia, set in Augustan Rome. She is currently working on Heirs of Fortune, the sequel to SoR, and a paranormal story set in modern-day Glasgow.

Witchcraft & Sorcery: A witch in medieval England

By Lindsay Townsend

One of the difficulties of considering the situation of witches in medieval England is the sources. Most of our information comes from trials in clerical or secular courts, and often these were motivated not by fear of sorcery but by greed, spite and politics. In England some kings feared witches – or found that accusing former mistresses or wives of witchcraft was an easy way to dispose of them, much as later Anne Boleyn was accused of sorcery by her disgruntled husband Henry Tudor. These events were partly high politics. What of the position of witches in more everyday, village settings?

Witches: a series of sketches attributed to Pieter Breughel
(or to Hieronymus Bosch) (Source: Wikimedia Commons).

One clue comes from the folklore surrounding plants. Peonies, rowan and St John’s Wort, for example, were believed to protect households from sorcery, which shows how much witches were feared. At the same time, there were those men and women, known in many part of England as ‘cunning folk,’ or ‘wise men/women,’ who were turned to for help in fortune telling, charming and healing.

In the Middle Ages in England everyone was a bit of a witch because everyone believed in magic, often as a curious blend of pagan, folk and Christian ideas. Peasants would chant the Lord’s Prayer over their penned cattle each night, ending with singing ‘Agios, Agios, Agios’ around them every evening as a piece of protective magic. A mixture of charms and prayers were used to solve all manner of problems, and ranged from curing toothache by appealing to the Lady Moon and then praying, to the Anglo-Saxon prayer-charm ordering the devil of pain to flee 3 times and give way to Christ. 

Rowan, a protection against witches.

Nobles had magic gems and amulets to protect them from evil.  A medieval  ring discovered at the Palace of Eltham, Henry VIII’s childhood home near London, was set with ruby and diamonds and carried an inscription promising the wearer luck. Merchants also had  gems and rings to protect themselves, much as people in modern times might wear a St Christopher to give them luck on a journey.  A burglar would  throw a crushed magnet over hot coals to inspire the household  to leave and let the thief work in peace. Priests would use blessings and  prayers such as the Lord’s Prayer and add a charm or two to effect an exorcism or expel illness.  Even the legends of saints have them using charms and magic to cure ills. When all sickness was seen as the result of evil, then it made sense to use ‘good’ magic to counter it.

If a man had to go to court, he might tuck a spray of mistletoe into his clothes to ensure he was not convicted. If he wished to inflame a woman’s lust, then he could slip some ants’ eggs into her bath. However, there were times when such simple ‘magic’ might not work (believe it or not) and people would seek out a recognised practitioner of magic.

To raise the dead or a demon needed a person skilled in rituals, who knew Latin, Greek, writing, astrology and fumigation and many of these necromancers were ex-priests or clerics. Some could be involved in the dangerous business of assassination by magic. In 1325 the necromancer  John of Nottingham was accused of taking money in return for killing the king by making a wax effigy of  Edward II and sticking pins into it. John was acquitted.

For love magic, however, and to inspire or stop affection, most people turned to their local ‘cunning folk’, especially the local midwife/healer or perhaps a white witch - who would use magic and witchcraft to good ends and within a Christian setting, using prayers as well as charms. These people could be both feared and revered  and were vulnerable to being accused of evil-doing if a person or animal fell sick. 

Throughout the Middle Ages good witches were mostly tolerated in England. It wasn’t until 1401 that the first act of parliament against witchcraft was passed. If a person was convicted of witchcraft, it was regarded as a form of heresy and the offender was excommunicated. In 1438, Agnes Hancock was excommunicated by a clerical court when she could not account for the meanings of some of the words she used in her love charms. The church took a dim view of love spells, feeling that they interfered with people’s free choice, but it wasn’t until the late Middle Ages or beyond that women casting such spells were threatened with burning.

If you are interested in learning about an English medieval ‘good’ witch in a fictional setting, please see my novels, The Snow Bride and its sequel,  A Summer Bewitchment.

Lindsay

http://www.lindsaytownsend.net
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