Koby, you were right; my answering comments as they are  posted instead of saving them all for the next blog is more efficient—and gives me a fighting chance to keep the blogs shorter than Sunne.   I want to begin by thanking all of you who bravely followed me to Facebook; we solved the glitch and I no longer have an invisibility cloak.  I even managed to put up my book covers, including the gorgeous new one for the British paperback edition of Devil’s Brood.   I have also added a section for my British books in my blog, but the changes have not been made yet; same for my page of blog recommendations. 

        Speaking of recommendations, I have an on-line bookshop to recommend, www.medievalbookshop.co.uk   This is a wonderful source to find out-of-print and bargain books, and the owner is happy to accept Wish Lists from readers.  It is fun to browse, too, but be warned that you may find you’ve spent hours prowling Nick’s book attic.   I also want to remind you of www.freerice.com    It offers vocabulary tests at various levels of expertise, and every time you score a correct answer, rice is donated to the world’s needy.  I was delighted to discover they offer tests in French, Spanish, Italian, and German, too.   No Welsh yet…sigh.   Also, here is another Welsh castle site that one of my readers kindly brought to my attention.  As you all know, I am a huge fan of www.castlesofwales.com   But this site is a good one, too, for anyone interested in medieval Welsh castles, although it doesn’t have my personal favorites—the castles of the Welsh princes.  Here is the URL, www.greatcastlesofwales.co.uk/raglan_plan.htm

      I am going to take advantage of the fact that I have a captive audience here—every writer’s dream—to sing the praises of The Falcons of Montabard by Elizabeth Chadwick.  In the interest of full disclosure, Elizabeth and I are friends and I’ve never read one of her books that I did not like.  But I think Falcons is something special.  It is set in the Holy Land, also called Outremer or Syria, in the early years of the 12^th century; it actually opens with the sinking of the White Ship.  Her major male character, Sabin Fitz Simon, is the illegitimate son of the Earl of Huntingdon, who is banished to Outremer in expiation of his many sins when his roving eye focuses upon a favorite mistress of the formidable old king Henry I.  I loved the Holy Land setting, in part because I’ve spent so much time researching the Kingdom of Jerusalem and the Crusades in the last few years.  As always, Elizabeth’s research is spot-on, and her descriptive writing is so vivid that you will feel as if you are walking the streets of Jerusalem with Sabin, fending off the relic peddlers and experiencing the delights of a Frankish bathhouse for the first time.  Falcons has a powerful love story that is firmly grounded in the MA, both convincing and moving.  I enjoyed the political intrigue and the skillful way Elizabeth has her fictional characters interact with real historical figures like King Baldwin or the Saracen lord, Usamah Ibn-Munqidh.      Another confession here—I like to write battle scenes.  I think Bernard Cornwell does them as well as any writer today, but not everyone knows that Elizabeth is just as gifted when it comes to spilling blood.   Falcons is set in a world at war, so there is enough action to satisfy the most blood-thirsty among us.  And as an added bonus, Falcons has some of the steamiest sex scenes not written by Diana Gabaldon.   For icing on the cake, Elizabeth provides a very interesting AN in which she discusses the choices she made and the few liberties she took with known historical fact; she even provides a brief bibliography.  If I had my way, all historical novelists would be compelled to include ANs, and I know many of you agree with me.   As an aside, Michelle Moran writes wonderful ANs, in which she explains why and how she had to fill in the blanks, for there is so much that is not known about ancient Egypt.     Unfortunately, Falcons has not been published yet in the US, but used copies are available at Amazon and Alibris, among others, and the paperback edition can be bought at Amazon—UK, of course.  

        Okay, now on to those of your questions I haven’t yet addressed.  Michelle, I agree with you that the “marital debt” would not have been easily enforced in the MA, given the inequality between husbands and wives.  But it is interesting that the Church took this position and adhered to it so strongly, even holding that a marriage could be dissolved if it could not be consummated.   Ken, I loved your comment about Edward, that he conquered Wales because he could; Bill Clinton said the same thing in an interview after he left office when he was asked why he’d gotten involved with Monica.    And I am fascinated by what you’re finding out about Susanna.   I did not make Gwladys Joanna’s daughter because there was no evidence to indicate she was when I wrote Dragons; as I’ve said, I relied to a great extent upon the wonderful research of Peter Bartram, who’d spent over forty years studying medieval Welsh genealogy.  But of course that was over twenty years ago and Peter didn’t have the resources of the Internet.   So I’m rooting for you to prove that Gwladys was Joanna’s. 

        Brenna, there is no secret formula for learning to accept criticism, sad to say.  Writers just have to develop thick skins if they want to prosper in our profession.  In my case, it was easier to accept the criticism of my editor, Marian Wood, because she was invariably right!   For example, I had originally written a chapter after the battle of Bosworth in which Elizabeth Woodville and others who’d loathed Richard were gleefully celebrating his death on Redmore Plain.  Marian said that my readers had emotionally invested in this man from the age of seven, and they would need time to mourn him.  I realized she was correct and so I wrote a chapter in which Richard’s niece Cecily and his nephew Jack de la Pole and his friends grieved for him.   It is never easy to be told that my writing is less than perfect.  But I believe that there was never a book written that couldn’t benefit from good editing, for editors can do what writers cannot—be dispassionate about what we’ve written.   I’ve been blessed to have one of the best editors in the business, of course.  But even if that were not so, I’d have had no choice but to bite the bullet and soldier on; for better or worse—and it’s usually for the better, it is an occupational hazard.

          I am leaving on my book tour next Wednesday, hope to meet some of you at my book signings, and hope, too, to bring back some stories to share.     I’ll close by saying that if we ever have a contest for the funniest comment posted on my blog, it would be very hard to beat Nan Hawthorrne’s entry—“Somebody has to be the granddaughter of a prostitute.  Just be glad it was me.”    

July 24, 2009           

I knew Merlin, my misnamed computer, had crossed over to the dark side, but I hadn’t realized he’d pitched a tent there.  I just wrote a new blog entry, but when I tried to publish it, it disappeared in a puff of smoke.  I will try to get this sorted out and re-post it ASAP.  Now let’s see if this one goes out okay.
July 24,2009

       I’d hoped to have a new blog posted this past week, but I was entangled with the Angevins.   At least it was productive, for I was able to finish a key chapter for Lionheart, in which Richard had confrontations with the King of Sicily and then the King of France.  Richard didn’t always play well with others, although it is hard to fault him for his feuding with Philippe Auguste, who could have taught Iago about treachery and betrayal.

       Richard also got to meet Berengaria at long last in this chapter.  Actually it wasn’t their first meeting, as I think they met about six years earlier at her father’s court in Navarre.  Ambroise, the minstrel or jongleur who accompanied Richard on crusade and wrote a rhyming chronicle about it, says that “most dear the king did love her and revere; since he was Count of Poitiers, his wish had wished for her always.”  Interestingly, the other major chronicle of the Third Crusade also says much the same thing:  “Attracted by her graceful manner and high birth, he had desired her very much for a long time, since he was first Count of Poitou.”  

      Ambroise was most likely the only chronicler who actually saw Berengaria, describing her as “a fair and worthy damsel, true and good, of very gentle womanhood.”   But the description that is most quoted is the snarky one  from Richard of Devizes, who never laid eyes upon her—that she was “more prudent than pretty.”   He also comments snidely that when Richard and Berengaria sailed from Sicily, she was “probably still a virgin.”   For what it’s worth, apparently none of these chroniclers thought Richard’s sexual urges were anything but conventional.    My favorite chronicler, William of Newburgh, calls Berengaria “a virgin of famous beauty and prudence,” but like Richard of Devizes, he never saw her either.   We know that two of her paternal aunts were noted for their beauty, as was her younger sister Blanca.   So while she may not have been another Helen of Troy, I think we can safely say that she wouldn’t have scared anyone when she went out in public.  BTW, her real name was Berenguela; this was translated into French as Berengere or Berengiere, and eventually it would become Anglicized as the name by which history knows her, Berengaria.   A shame, for Berenguela is lovely.

        Moving from the twelfth to the thirteenth century, several of you had questions about the children of Joanna and Llewelyn Fawr.  Ken kindly posted information from Joanna’s entry in the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, which was originally written by the Victorian historian Kate Norgate, and was subsequently updated by the British historian, A.D. Carr.  I still stand by my position that we can only be positive that Joanna was the mother of Davydd and Elen.  A. D. Carr says she was “probably” the mother of Gwladys and Margaret, but that is not a certainty.  He cites no source for a daughter named Susanna, and I am rather skeptical of that since I’ve never heard a word about her before.   I want to repeat, though, that I have not been able to keep current on  research done since I wrote Here Be Dragons more than twenty years ago; the same is true for Richard III and Simon de Montfort.  Happily, I am totally up to date on the Angevins, having had them as my royal roommates for the past fifteen years or so.   The Oxford National Biography is a wonderful source for writers or those interested in the MA.  I have information about subscribing to it, but I’ll put that in a comment to this blog.

       Suzanne, you’d asked an interesting question earlier—why writers select certain scenes to dramatize.   Part of the answer is simple practicality; writers know we can’t turn in 2,000 page books.   So we have to leave certain scenes on the cutting room floor, especially if they involve secondary characters.  That is why I did not dramatize Isabel Neville’s shipboard childbirth scene in Sunne, or why I did not dramatize the capture of the Scots king in Devil’s Brood, although both scenes would have been fun to do.  I tend to follow my instincts when it comes to writing scenes about primary characters; I just seem to “know” when an episode or event needs to be brought center stage and when it can be relegated to the narrative account.

         Shauna, you posed an interesting question, too, asking if there is any evidence that Joanna loved her father.   Sadly, there is very little surviving evidence of medieval emotions; occasionally a chronicler will give us a glimpse into medieval hearts, as when one reported that King Henry III and his queen were grief-stricken at the death of their little deaf-mute daughter or when a chronicler noted that Richard III and Anne were devastated by the loss of their son.  Sometimes a hint surfaces midst the dry facts of the Pipe Rolls, etc, as when Edward I’s crown had to be repaired because “it pleased the king to throw it into the fire.”  This tantrum was caused by his discovery that his daughter Joanna, widow of the Earl of Gloucester, had dared to take one of Gloucester’s squires in a clandestine second marriage; despite Edward’s initial rage, Joanna eventually won him over.   

        So….I have to rely upon common sense and logical deductions about what we know of human nature.  In Joanna’s case, she took a great risk in sending John a secret warning that his life might be endangered if he invaded Wales as planned.   I can think of no other reason for her action except love for her father.    I based my conclusions about her marriage to Llewelyn in great part upon his remarkable act, forgiving her for an adultery that was very damaging to him politically.  By 1230, he was at the zenith of his power in Wales, and Henry III was no threat, a weak king who could not have punished Llewelyn for putting aside an unfaithful wife.  Moreover, public opinion on both sides of the border would have been firmly on Llewelyn’s side had he done so; there was very little sympathy in the MA for faithless wives.  But Llewelyn forgave Joanna and restored her to favor, despite her unpopularity with the Welsh.  Even more significantly, he established a friary in her memory when she died.  So it is difficult for me not to conclude that he loved this woman.  

     What of Joanna’s feelings, though?   Here is where psychology rears its ugly head.  From all that we know of Llewelyn, he was not a man to have nursed an unrequited love for 24 years, for that is how long they’d been wed at the time of her adulterous affair with William de Braose.   If she hadn’t returned his love, his would eventually have withered and died.   Theirs had to have been a marriage of genuine affection and respect in order for it to have survived such a severe test.  And the proof that they were able to repair the damage done is that friary on Llanfaes. 

     Paula, I am so glad that you were impressed by the scene in Falls the Shadow between Simon de Montfort and Rabbi Jacob and his son, Benedict, for I am as proud of that chapter as I am of anything I’ve ever written.  I wanted to show my readers how pre-carious life had become for Jews in the 13^th century, culminating in their expulsion from England by Edward I in 1290.  They were hated and scorned for being money-lenders, yet they’d been forced into this dubious profession, barred from joining the craft and trade guilds, from holding land, or attending universities.   But I also wanted to do something more difficult—to show how a medieval Christian like Simon viewed Jews, that for him, it all came down to salvation.  He recognized the courage it took for Jacob for to come to him and ask to have the rioters punished.  He saw Jacob’s soul as one worth saving and he could not understand why Jacob would not embrace the True Faith, why he courted damnation.

       This scene between these two men goes to the heart of the differences between their world and ours.  In the MA, tolerance was not viewed as a virtue, and we find that very hard to understand.   This was true for all of their major religions–Christian, Jewish, or Muslim; they were all sure that theirs was the only way to God, their faith the only means to gain salvation.     

         I am trying a new tactic to keep these blogs within a manageable length.  I am going to answer some of your queries by posting comments of my own, as I did in thanking Steven for providing the URL to the William of Newburgh chronicle.  So don’t assume I am ignoring you if I don’t respond to your questions in this blog; just check for my re-plies in the last blog!    

      And now on to a subject we seem to be discussing a lot lately—medieval sex!   Paula, you ought to co-authoring this blog with me, as this is another of your queries–the belief that women must experience pleasure during sex to conceive, a question also addressed quite well by Elizabeth Chadwick.  Elizabeth points out that there were various theories about sex, some of them quite contradictory.  For example, there was a school of thought which held that a daughter was conceived only if there was a weakness in the man’s semen; this, however, did not keep them from still “blaming” the woman if she gave birth to a daughter, not a son!   Aristotle’s teachings were quite influential in the MA, and many accepted his belief that the man provided the seed and the woman the material.  But other medieval writers believed that both the man and the woman must provide “seed” for conception to occur.  And there was indeed a belief that conception was linked to a woman’s sexual satisfaction.  I’ve seen it suggested—but never with a citation for a medieval source—that this was one of the arguments which Louis’s advisers used to convince him to divorce Eleanor, insisting that she could never give him the son he so desperately needed because she no longer wanted to share his bed.   You can see the dangers in this argument, though, for rape victims.   By pure coincidence, I am dealing with this very question in my current Lionheart chapter, with a scene between Berengaria and Joanna in which they discuss the “marital debt” and the “sin of lust” and whether conception depended upon a woman’s sexual enjoyment.  BTW, the marital debt was owed by both husband and wife; the marriage bed was the one place where the Church accorded men and women equal rights.   The Church took this “obligation” so seriously that the marital debt was still owed even if one of the partners contracted leprosy.   

     I’m going to end this blog with a mystery.  A reader asked me if any of you might be familiar with a novel about a young woman who moves from her home in the south of England to Northumbria to marry; toward the book’s end, the family meets Richard, Duke of York, father of “my” Edward and Richard.   She can’t remember the author or title, so it’s a challenge.   Anyone up to it?

July 12, 2009

Before we get to your questions—my favorite part of the blogs—I want to give you a brief report of the Historical Novel Society convention.  There was an unexpected eleventh-hour development.   I’d signed up so late that I wasn’t on any panels and so I was looking forward to being a social butterfly, flitting about visiting old friends and meeting new ones.   But then I had a call from Jane Kessler at HNS.  Edward Rutherfurd was to have been one of the two keynote speakers, but a sudden family illness caused him to bow out at the last minute, and they asked me to step in.   So I ended up giving a speech Saturday night, definitely not the high point of the evening, though, as they then held a lively costume contest, followed by a public reading of their sex scenes by some very brave authors.

        Naturally the air travel portion of the trip was awful; I got in so late on Friday that I missed Margaret George’s much-praised keynote speech that evening.   Aside from that, I really enjoyed myself, getting to spend time with three good friends (Priscilla Royal, Barbara Peters of the Poisoned Pen, and Margaret Frazer) and meeting Michelle Moran and Anne Easter Smith.  Barbara, Margaret, and I had an interesting experience on Sunday night.  We had dinner at a restaurant in the mall across the street from the hotel, and afterward we sought to leave via the mall, only to find it locked up tighter than Fort Knox; we eventually escaped through the tornado shelter.  BTW, in this entire huge and rather posh mall, there was not a single bookstore.   I got to meet C. W. Gortner, who has written a novel about one of history’s most intriguing women, Juana La Loca; it is called The Last Queen and I now have a copy atop my pile of Books to Read.   I also met an American who now lives in Cyprus and she very generously offered to do any on-site research I might need for Richard and Berengaria’s stay in Cyprus! 

        Now, some interesting news about the other writers at the conference.  Good news for those of you who enjoy Margaret George’s books, and that would be anyone who appreciates well written and well researched historical novels.  Margaret’s next book will be about Elizabeth Tudor, beginning with the Armada in 1588.   All you Diana Gabaldon fans are going to be very jealous of me, as I got to hear two of Diana’s sex scenes from her new book, An Echo in the Bone, to be published in September of this year; she chose to contrast the male and female approach to sex, with one scene given from Claire’s point of view and one from Jamie’s.   Since Diana’s book tour is going to cover everyplace but the Falkland Islands, you’ve all got a fairly good chance that she might be coming to a book-store near you!  A slight exaggeration, but in addition to her U.S. tour, she’ll be visiting New Zealand and Australia and the United Kingdom and Germany.  

          Cathy, I was lucky enough to snag a copy of the galley proofs for Michelle Moran’s new book, Cleopatra’s Daughter, which, as you noted, comes out in September.  I expect it will be a great success for her; who can resist both Egypt and Ancient Rome?  I am going to interview Michelle on my blog after her new book comes out.  I will also be interviewing two medieval writers (and friends, in the interest of full disclosure), Priscilla Royal and Margaret Frazer when their new mysteries come out later this year.  And Elizabeth Chadwick (another friend) has kindly agreed to do a “guest appearance” for the American launch of her novel about William Marshal, The Greatest Knight, which will be published in September, 2009.    So if you have questions you’d like to submit to any of these authors, e-mail them to me and I’ll see what I can do.   And Cindy is quite correct; Anne Easter Smith is now working on a novel about Cecily Neville.

        I wish they’d made tapes of the panel discussions available for sale, as they’ve done at the Bouchercons.  Two in particular were fascinating.  C. W. Gortner monitored one on Sunday in which the panel discussed the bias in publishing about male authors writing of female protagonists and vice versa.  I was very surprised that this prejudice is still so prevalent and apparently widespread.  I never encountered it myself and, speaking as an avid reader, all I care about is that a book is well written.

       I especially enjoyed the panel discussion about the fine line writers must walk to balance fact and fiction.  You all know my rather passionate views on this subject, and to judge by your blog comments, I am preaching to the choir here.  I’m happy to report that the panelists were in agreement with us.   Laurel Corona offered a wonderful comment that could well serve as the Eleventh Commandment for historical novelists: “Do not defame the dead.”   That says it all, doesn’t it?   I think I’ve mentioned  my own shorthand for “historical novels” that are not rooted in any time or place:  “The Plantagenets in Pasadena.”   Well, I came away from the panel discussion with two more apt phrases: “costume fiction” and from Margaret Frazer, “Mary Jane visits the castle.”

        Okay, on to your questions.  First of all, thank you for all the Robin Hood recommendations: Jerry was very pleased.   I think my 1185 slip speaks for itself.  Ken, what a lovely compliment, comparing me to Eleanor of Aquitaine.   I only wish I had her inner strength and steely will.   Your comment about medieval archers not being able to take dead aim was fascinating; thanks for sharing your expertise with us.   Your anecdote about the infamous William de Braose was slightly off target, though.  It actually happened to one of his knights and Giraldus Cambrensus claimed that after an arrow pinned one leg to the saddle, he was hit by a second arrow in his other leg.  This is so vivid in my mind because Morgan, Ranulf’s son, related the incident to Richard in an early chapter of Lionheart—and this time there were no bizarre suggestions that longbows were easier to master than crossbows!   I was very interested in your reference to Savoy, Ken, and have an interesting anecdote (which you probably know), but I will have to save it for my next blog, as this one is going to be another whopper.

        Michelle and April, I’m going to have to pass on your questions about casting a film for Sunne.  I don’t have a “dream cast” for any of my novels, have honestly never given it much thought.   Although I am convinced that no actors ever born could have surpassed Peter O’Toole and Katharine Hepburn in The Lion in Winter.  But if some of you want to suggest casting for any of my books, please do share them with us.  And Dave, I think I can speak for women everywhere when I say that Johnny Depp is not a prat!   I’d be utterly euphoric if he wanted to play one of the characters in any of my books.  Well, maybe not Henry Tudor, for there is no way Tudor had Johnny’s humor or sex appeal.

     I’m so glad that some of you will be able to attend my readings in Bailey’s Crossing and Anne Arbor.  Jenny, do bring your old copy of Sunne; I’d be happy to sign it.  Occasionally a bookstore owner will limit the number of previous books customers can bring to a book signing and there are even a few writers who balk at signing their earlier books.  But that is relatively rare and I am delighted to sign any of my books; it is a lovely sight to see a well-worn—hence well-read—copy of Sunne or Dragons.

     Brenna, I’m sorry, but I can’t be of any assistance when it comes to Allison Weir’s Princes in the Tower, as I have not read it.  Nor did I read the Bertram Fields book, though several of my friends were quite enthusiastic about it.   As I mentioned in an earlier blog, I did not keep up on Ricardian reading, moving on to Wales and then the Angevins.   So for that reason, I cannot recommend any Ricardian books published since Sunne.   Can any of my readers help Brenna with this?

      I was interested and somewhat surprised by the comments that Elizabeth Chadwick and several of you made about John in Here Be Dragons.   I never thought that “my”  John was that favorably portrayed.  I was not aiming to “rehabilitate” John, as I obviously was with Richard III; I had a more modest goal, merely to show his humanity.   I did find him an intriguing character to write about, for the ones with dark corners in their souls are always more fun than the saintly ones.   And I don’t think you can really whitewash a man who betrayed his dying father, did his best to keep his brother rotting in a German prison, had his own nephew murdered, hanged a number of Welsh hostages, and starved Maude de Braose and her son to death!  I do think John was quite intelligent, but he was also the most damaged of Henry and Eleanor’s sons, and I think his kingship must be judged a failure—not because of Magna Carta or even that he died alone and virtually abandoned by all, mourned by none.  I think John’s greatest failing as a king was his inability to trust others, and once they realized that, they could not trust him, which was an even more fatal flaw than Stephen’s inability to win respect or fear from his nobles.  It is always interesting, though, to see how other people view “my” characters.  I remember being surprised by some comments on the Historical Fiction On-line forum to the effect that my Richard III was too perfect to be true, for I truly never saw him in that way.  Hey, he did send Hastings to his death without a trial, remember!   Surely the most unique response I ever got came from an Australian reader, who wrote that she could not enjoy Dragons because Llewelyn reminded her too much of an old boyfriend.

      Suzanne, you had a very interesting question, asking how writers pick scenes to dramatize and why some get left on the cutting room floor.  Because that deserves more than a few quick sentences, I am going to save my response for my next blog.  And I’m sure we’d like to hear from you writers out there, too, on this subject.

         Now, Cindy, it is your turn.   You mentioned the massacre of the Jews of York in March, 1190, and you and Blair both brought up Richard’s execution of the Muslim garrison at Acre.  These are serious topics and I want to address them fully.  First of all, your source for the York massacre was very much in error.   Briefly, this is what happened.   Richard had forbidden any Jews to attend his coronation feast.  When I read that initially many years ago, I assumed that this was an anti-Semitic act, for we all knew this was the ugly underside of medieval life.  But Richard’s subsequent actions changed my mind about this; now I think it is quite likely that he was trying to keep the King’s Peace, as whenever a crusade had been declared in the past, the Jews were the first to suffer.  During the first and second crusades, bloody pogroms had flared up as would-be crusaders looked for “infidels” closer at hand than the Saracens.   I think Richard may have been trying to avoid such outbursts of violence in England.  But Benedict and Josce of York, prominent moneylenders from that city, possibly not having heard of the prohibition, showed up at Westminster and were attacked by bystanders.  Soon a mob was surging through the city streets, burning and looting and assaulting any Jews they could find.   Richard was infuriated; the Jews were under the king’s protection and were an important source of royal revenue.  He did what he could to punish the rioters and at once sent out writs to the major cities of his realm, warning that the Jews were not to be harmed.  And they were not.  The writs were obeyed—as long as he remained in England.  But he left for Normandy after Christmas, and that “crusading fervor” soon erupted again, like a virulent plague.   Jewries were attacked in Lynn and Norwich and then it spread to Stamford, Bury St Edmunds, and Lincoln.  Drunken mobs pillaged and looted and the Jews fled to the royal castles for refuge.   Then, in March of 1190, the madness reached York.

       Remember the two York moneylenders, Benedict and Josce?   Josce had escaped the London mob, but Benedict was trapped and forced to accept conversion.  When peace had been restored, Richard had him summoned and asked if his conversion had been voluntary.  When Benedict said it was coerced, he was allowed to recant, although the Archbishop of Canterbury angrily told him that he could be the Devil’s man if he refused to be God’s man.   Benedict died soon after of his wounds, but Josce returned safely to York, where a worse fate awaited him.  

         When the York mob attacked Benedict’s house and killed his family, Josce and the other Jews fled to the castle for safety.   But they did not trust the castellan and when he left the castle, they apparently overpowered the garrison and refused to let him back in.  He then turned for help to the sheriff of Yorkshire, who just “happened” to be in the immediate vicinity, and the sheriff made the fateful decision to retake the castle.  The York mob was only too happy to join in, and by the time the sheriff had second thoughts, the mob was in control.   The trapped Jews held out for two days, but they realized they were doomed and made the desperate decision to die by their own hands rather than to be butchered by the mob.  Husbands slit the throats of their wives and children, Josce being the first one to kill his family.   It is estimated that about one hundred and fifty had taken refuge and most of them chose suicide.  

      Those still alive appealed for mercy and agreed to accept baptism and they were promised that they’d be spared.  But this promise was not kept and when they emerged, they were all slaughtered, men, women, and children.   The mob then revealed the real reason for the rioting.  They forced their way into York Minster and compelled the monks to turn over the Jews’ debt bonds, which they burned right there in the nave of the church.

      When Richard, then in Normandy, learned of this, he was outraged.  We have no way of knowing, of course, if he pitied the victims.  We do know that any medieval king would see this as an act of political defiance.   He immediately sent his chancellor, Longchamp, back to England and Longchamp led an army into Yorkshire, where he found how difficult it is to punish mob violence.   The citizens of York swore that it had been perpetrated by strangers and would-be crusaders, who’d fled into Scotland.  Longchamp dismissed the castellan and the sheriff—more on him in a moment—and imposed heavy fines on the citizens.   And this heavy-handed response was sufficient to keep other cities at peace; there were no other violent outbursts against the Jews during the remainder of Richard’s reign.

        I can highly recommend a first-person account by the medieval chronicler William of Newburgh; a translation was published in 1996.  Blair was quite right that some of the chroniclers did approve of the pogroms against the Jews; Richard of Devizes faulted the citizens of Winchester for protecting their Jews.  But William of Newburgh was horrified by what had been done in his God’s Name.   In a telling phrase, he described how Josce slit the throat of “Anna, his most beloved wife.”    He wrote that the rioters’ first crime was to shed “human blood like water,” their second “acting barbarously,” their third “refusing the Grace of Christ to those who sought it,” and the fourth, “deceiving those miserable people by lying to induce them to come forth.”     And he very clearly stated that the motivation for the rioting was to avoid paying the debts owed to the York moneylenders.

     Now, back to the sherff.   As I said, he was sacked by Longchamp.   Sadly, he was later appointed to another shrievalty by John, though there is no evidence that John played any role in the York massacre; he was in Normandy with Richard at the time.  The disgraced sheriff was none other than John Marshal, older brother of the celebrated William Marshal, and he was either guilty of gross incompetence or he was in collusion with the mob.  

      Okay, on to Richard’s crusade.  This is the story of the siege of Acre.  When it surrendered to the crusaders in July, 1191, an agreement was struck with Salah al-din (more commonly known to us as Saladin) to ransom the garrison.   The ransom was not paid—there are various explanations as to why it was not, the most likely being the mutual mistrust on both sides—and the garrison was marched out onto the plains beyond the city and there killed.   This decision had been made by all the crusade leaders, but there is no doubt that Richard wanted this done.   There is a very matter-of-fact letter of his to the Abbot of Clairvaux, in which he describes the execution of “about two thousand, six hundred” of them being “quite properly” put to death.    He saw this as a purely military decision as his army was about to march out of Acre and he was unwilling to set so many enemy soldiers loose on his rear, apparently having decided that he could not spare enough men to guard them.   Cold-blooded?  Yes, it was, and later historians would judge him harshly for it.  At the time, the chroniclers seem to have accepted it as what needed to be done.  

      You notice that I’ve talked only about the “garrison.”   You will find it said in some histories, including one by the respected historian, Sir Stephen Runciman, that the families of these unfortunate men were slain, too.  But I have so far been unable to find any contemporary source for this.  I have read five English chronicles and two Arab chronicles, one written by one of Saladin’s intimates, and none of them mention the families of the garrison being killed, too.   And in all of the histories or biographies that report this as a “fact,” not a single one cites a medieval source for it.  This is why writers drink.   I am going to continue to try to track down the origin of this story, but if I have no luck, I will most likely follow the medieval sources and then discuss the controversy in my Author’s Note—you guys are getting a preview of it here!

          This is a good example of the challenges that novelists face; it matters greatly to me that I get the facts right, especially about an event of such significance.  It is also a good example of the great gap that sometimes existed between medieval and modern sensibilities.   I’ve seen the massacre of the Acre garrison compared to the killing of captured French knights by Henry V at the battle of Agincourt, which was also done for military reasons.   Obviously we don’t see such killings in  the same light, but I think historical novelists ought to try to view them from a medieval perspective if at all possible.   

      Lastly, there is your question, Marilyn.    Marian Meade was wrong; Richard did not make  a “public confession of his homosexuality.”   If only he had!   That would have saved me so much work and research trying to solve the “mystery” of his sexuality.  What he did do was to summon his bishops to him in Messina and confessed to his sins.  The chronicler mentions “the thorns of lustfulness,” but is not more specific than that.  He says that Richard “received the penance imposed by the bishops and from that hour forward became a man who feared God and left what was evil and did what was good.” 

        This public penance alone would not raise questions about Richard’s sexual proclivities.   It is truly amazing what was held to be sinful by the medieval Church.  In addition to fornication, adultery, and sodomy, medievals were told that they sinned if they had sex in any position other than what we today call the “missionary position.”  They sinned if they had sex on Sundays, holy days, during Advent, Lent, and Pentecost.  Open mouthed kissing was a sin, as was making love in daylight.  Any sexual act that was not procreative was a mortal sin.   According to some canonists and penitentials, a husband who desired his wife with “excessive lust” was guilty of adultery!  

       In a future blog, I will discuss the multitude of medieval sins covered by the term sodomy, which included any sexual act thought to be “against nature.”   This is relevant because a chronicler reported that in 1195 a hermit approached Richard and warned him, “Be thou mindful of the destruction of Sodom and abstain from what is unlawful.”    Historians today have been having some very lively arguments about the meaning of this warning and there is no consensus, any more than there is a consensus about Richard’s sexual inclinations.   Until 1948, no one suggested he preferred men to women.  After 1948, it became accepted as gospel.  But within the last twenty years or so, there has been another reassessment of something we can never really know for certain.   Richard’s pre-eminent biographer, the British historian John Gillingham, is convinced Richard was heterosexual and many historians now agree with him.   Others still believe Richard was either homosexual or bisexual.   As I said, I will be addressing this subject in later blogs.  While doing this research, I’ve come across some very comprehensive and perceptive studies about medieval sexuality and the considerable differences between the way they viewed sex and the way we view it today.   Would you like me to include some of these books on my Recommended Research page?

        Well, here’s another blog stretching out into infinity.  But we’re talking about mutual guilt now.   You all really have to stop asking me such intriguing questions!

June 25, 2009

PS  Ken, thanks for posting the entry on Joanna from the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography.  That is a subject I had to save for a future blog, too.

     I am going to begin with a confession—I’d have been horrified if you had picked High Drama over Historical Accuracy.   Ideally, a book should be able to provide both.   But I apply a rather stringent standard, and even a well-written book can be ruined for me if the research is sloppy.  I don’t mean occasional errors, which are inevitable, but fundamental misconceptions about the medieval world, what I think of as “The Plantagenets in Pasadena” syndrome, where highborn young women expect to marry for love and class differences are a minor inconvenience and religion is rarely if ever mentioned. 

      Of course much of what historical novelists do is “fill in the blanks,” for we have no choice.  Medieval chroniclers were notably indifferent to the needs of modern novelists, rarely mentioning such dramatic essentials as birth dates or causes of death.  So we novelists must often improvise, sometimes with unintended consequences.   I received a letter once from a woman who’d felt so passionate about Here Be Dragons that she made a pilgrimage to Chester Cathedral, where Joanna and Llewelyn had wed.   She was dismayed to find no reference whatsoever to this important historical event and she took the cathedral officials to task for their negligence.  I then had to tell her that the negligent parties were the thirteenth century chroniclers who hadn’t bothered to mention where the marriage took place.   I’d chosen Chester as a logical site because of its proximity to Wales; I was able to reassure her, though, that Llewelyn ap Gruffydd and Ellen de Montfort actually were wed in Worcester Cathedral.   

      On a related subject, I feel comfortable involving characters in historical events if their participation seems logical and if they aren’t known to have been elsewhere at the time.   For example, there is no evidence that Henry’s illegitimate son Geoff (later Archbishop of York) took part in the battle at Fornham.  But we know he was very active on Henry’s behalf in the military campaigns against English rebels, and we don’t know where he was in October of 1173, so why not Fornham?  

         I found the discussion about Genealogy Charts vs. Cast of Characters quite interesting.  Depending upon the books, I can see a need for both.  When I read Brian Wainwright’s novel about Constance of York, Within the Fetterlock, I’d have been lost if he hadn’t provided a Cast of Characters, for I was not very familiar with the reign of Henry IV.   The ideal solution would be to provide both for the reader.  But as for bibliographies, Kristen, that is not feasible.   It is rarely if ever done in historical novels and I’d expect most publishers to be resistant to it.  So would I, to be candid.   There is no way I could include all of my research sources; in addition to books, I rely upon academic journal articles to a great extent.   Author websites provide the ideal solution, though.  In my Research Recommendations section, I can highlight books that I think my readers will find interesting, and I have the liberty of adding to the list from time to time.  I ought to mention here that I am not always in total agreement with the authors of the books I recommend.  Occasionally the books are outdated or the writers draw conclusions I do not agree with; Marion Meade’s biography of Eleanor is an example, as is John Julius Norwich’s Kingdom in the Sun.  But if books make my list, that does mean that I think the research is generally reliable and the writing itself is graceful.   

     Beth, I loved your comment about historical research.  You are so right!  Research has its own ebb and flow, and surprises can be washed up on shore once the tide goes out.  I have been writing fiction for more than twenty-five years, so it is inevitable that some of my initial research has been contradicted by subsequent discoveries.  Eleanor’s age is a perfect example.  For many years, 1122 was her accepted birth date, but with the publication of Eleanor of Aquitaine, Lord and Lady, that changed, and there seems to be a consensus in favor of Andrew Lewis’s new date of 1124.   Here Be Dragons was published in 1185, and at that time the belief in Richard’s homosexuality was in the ascendancy.  Twenty-some years later that subject engenders a great deal more controversy, and writers on either side of the argument feel obligated to mention the dispute, which is surely a good thing. 

      Research is particularly fluid in the study of genealogy.  When I wrote Dragons, I was unable to find any references to the birth date of John’s illegitimate brother, William Longsword, and his mother was unknown.  Today it is generally accepted that his mother was Ida de Tosny, daughter of the Lord of Conches, later the wife of Roger Bigod, Earl of Norfolk, and it seems likely that Will was born c. 1177.    Readers interested in finding out more about Ida and Roger Bigod are in luck, as Elizabeth Chadwick has written a novel about them titled The Time of Singing, which has just come out in paperback in the U. K.   Moving on to Joanna, I relied upon Peter Bartram’s massive genealogical work of forty years in determining that only Elen was Joanna’s biological daughter.   In the intervening years, I have seen claims that Gladwys and possibly others were Joanna’s, too.  But to show you how complicated the issue is, I would cite two articles from The Genealogist.  One argues that all the mothers of Llewelyn’s daughters must be shown as “unknown,” including Elen.  A subsequent article in The Genealogist unearthed a letter from Henry III dated June 22, 1237, in which he refers to the newly widowed Elen as his niece, which certainly seems to prove that Elen was Joanna’s biological daughter.  In the first article, I was following his arguments with interest until I came upon his statement that Elen had only two daughters, Joanna and Hawise, by her second marriage to Robert de Quincy.   Now I happen to know from my own admittedly unprofessional research that Elen and Robert also had a daughter named Anne, having found this information in the Calendar of Inquisitions, a fascinating document which  gave me the  ages of the daughters and the year in which Elen died.   So I can only repeat that we all make mistakes and we never know when a new treasure might be revealed by those receding waves.  

       Speaking of mistakes, I made one in my last blog, telling you that Eleanor made four trips across the Alps.  Actually it was three; she and Louis took the overland route through Germany on their way to the Holy Land.  

        Before I respond to your questions, I’d like to ask for your help.  A friend of mine asked if I could recommend any novels about Robin Hood.   I’ve never done any Robin Hood reading, but I told him that I’m sure some of my readers will have books to suggest.   So….any Robin Hood novels out there that Jerry would enjoy?

      Okay, question time.  Monica, I am sorry to say that I don’t have any U.K. trips planned in the immediate future. I was fortunate enough to live in York and Benllech, Gwynedd briefly, and I was accustomed to spending at least a month on your side of the Atlantic every year, dividing my time between England and Wales.   But that changed when my mother died and my dad came to live with me; he had serious health problems and I no longer felt free to spend so much time away from home.   By the time he died, I’d followed the Angevins to France and that had become the focal point of my research; the last time I was in England for a research trip, it was to refresh my memories of Canterbury Cathedral in preparation for Henry’s penance scene.

     Ken, I hope you keep us up to date as Othon’s book progresses.   As an ex-archer, have you read Bernard Cornwell’s Agincourt?  If so, what did you think of it?    I was fascinated by his contention that so much of archery is mental.   I hope you have better luck with all those recycled names than I did; with so many Richards and Edwards and even Elizabeths in Sunne, I became inordinately attached to Francis Lovell simply because he was the only one in the whole blessed book!    You said you were interested in the last years of the Kingdom of Jerusalem.  The Osprey Campaign series has a volume by David Nicolle called Acre 1291, Bloody Sunset of the Crusader States, and Christopher Tyerman’s God’s War, A New History of the Crusades, has a section on the fall of Acre.   You’re going to like my Research Recommendations page once I start to add all my crusader books!

     Kristen, I’m sorry you missed my November visit to the Poisoned Pen, but it is very likely I will be back.  My last visit was for the publication of Devil’s Brood, but I’ve often visited even when I didn’t have a book coming out, usually when Barbara Peters has set up a forum with other writers.   I wish I were coming to the West Coast, too, Mimi.  I used to make fairly regular stops in California, Portland, and Seattle, but publishers are cutting back drastically on book tours, so it is hard to say what the future holds for them.  Jenny, my book tour for late July, early August is up in the Press Room of my website; I’ll be at Borders in Baileys Crossroads on July 29^th at 7:30 PM; I hope you can be there.  I love to meet readers, and our blog interaction has added a certain intimacy, so I feel as if I know the “regulars” already. Kelly, what is your daughter’s name?  I hope she can come, too.

      Helen, I would consider a film deal, but sad to say, Stephen Spielberg is not camping out on my front porch.  Sunne is still optioned and the British production company is diligently seeking funding, no easy task in the current economy; there was a recent query about Dragons, but it is not likely to go very far.   Gabriele, I’d warn you to keep a close eye on Arminius; he sounds quite capable of high-jacking your book right out from under your nose.   And is the Dalriatan chief a real historical figure?   He definitely sounds like a man who needs a book of his own!

      Brenna, your question is a difficult one for me.  I generally try not to be publicly critical of other writers, feeling a certain solidarity—we’re an endangered species, after all.   I have reservations about Alison Weir’s biography of Eleanor, as I suspect many of you have guessed, for hers is not one of the books I’ve recommended.  Regrettably, she does not always cite footnotes for the sources of her conclusions.   Some years ago, she wrote a book, Britain’s Royal Families, The Complete Genealogy, in which she offered a bibliography, but not a single footnote, which made it impossible to judge the accuracy  of her statements; for example, she lists seven illegitimate children for Richard III, three of them unnamed with questions marks, which was not particularly helpful for readers wanting to pursue this further.  And I was troubled by some of the errors I found in her biography of Eleanor. 

     Just to cite a few examples:   She says the King of Sicily, Tancred, was the nephew of William the Good, Joanna’s husband.  He was not; he was William’s cousin.  She says that the French King Philippe was so taken with Joanna that Richard immediately moved her to the mainland, “out of the French king’s reach,” since “he was a married man.”  Well, no, he wasn’t.  His queen had died giving birth to stillborn sons six months previously.  And while Roger de Hoveden did indeed report that Philippe was smitten with Joanna, who was a beautiful, accomplished young woman, Richard moved her to the mainland because he feared for her safety—not from Philippe, but from the unfriendly citizens of Messina.  Four days afterward, rioting broke out in Messina and Richard seized control of the city, “in less time than it took for a priest to chant Matins” according to one of the chroniclers accompanying him.   On p. 271, Ms. Weir says that Richard met Tancred in March, 1191 and the two kings reached a “friendly agreement.”   This is partially true.   They did meet at Catania in March, 1191, at which time Richard gave Tancred a sword that he claimed to be Arthur’s Excalibur!     But their “friendly agreement” had been struck five months earlier, in October of 1190, and this is well documented; we have the actual terms of the agreement and even a November letter from Richard in which he notifies the Pope of their accord. 

      I am not saying you should not read her biography of Eleanor, for she has obviously put a great deal of work into it; just proceed with caution.  In fairness to Ms. Weir, I ought to say that she is not the only biographer who can be casual about footnotes.   A recent biography by Frank McLynn, Richard and  John: Kings at War,  tells us that Eleanor had black hair and black eyes.   Now this is rather startling since the details of her physical appearance have eluded us for more than eight centuries.  But no footnote is cited for this remarkable revelation.   I would have been fine with it had he said that Eleanor probably had dark coloring, but he presented it as cold, hard fact.   And while historical novelists have to conjure up details like that, historians have neither that need nor that liberty.

     Megan, I am in agreement with Elizabeth Chadwick and Ken; yours wins the Funniest Comment contest, hands-down!   Paula, you made an interesting comment about medieval cooking.  Should I add a section in my Research Recommendations about medieval food?   I was thinking of recommending several books about medieval travel, so I guess it would make sense to expand the subject a bit.  Opinions?

        Well, I’ve done it again, written a blog entry that rivals Moby Dick in length.   I always start out with such good intentions, too.  So I’ll conclude now by saying that I fully agree with Elizabeth’s answer to your query, Carrie.  The Plantagenets in particular can strain credibility, for the high drama and improbable turns and twists in their lives could have come straight from a Hollywood scriptwriter’s imagination.   So like Elizabeth, I try to keep my books securely grounded in fact.  And hardly a day goes by when I don’t give thanks for the Author’s Note.   Now I am signing off until after the Historical Novel Society Convention.

June 3, 2009

PS  Well, I’m back again, as I forgot to respond to a few questions.   I asked St Martins Press when The Reckoning would be available in Kindle format, and was told it is in the pipeline, and it will depend upon how fast Amazon moves.   Susan Kay’s Legacy will be issued in paperback format by Sourcebooks in the spring of 2010.  Lastly, I found a remarkable website that I want to share.  It is www.freerice.com, and is based upon a brilliant premise.  When you visit the site, you are able to take a vocabulary quiz; each time you correctly identify a word, a rice donation is made for the world’s poor through the UN World Food Program.    Do check it out, as this is a way to have fun while doing good, and it doesn’t get any better than that.

       This is becoming the Blog Without End.   I also forgot to mention that I am planning to add a section for my British readers.  As soon as my Penguin editor sends me the book jackets, we are going to list all of my books published in the U. K.  with a click-on feature to connect readers to British on-line bookshops.    And I now have the publication date for the Penguin paperback edition of Devil’s Brood—August 6, 2009.

June 4, 2009     

      I’d like to start with an Alert Message.  I am hoping that most of the people who e-mail me via my website also read my blogs, for I had a computer meltdown recently, and all of the e-mails in my In Box since August of 2007 were instantly erased.  Fortunately I do back up onto my flash drive, but I’d been lazy and so I lost at least two weeks of e-mails, including a number from readers.  I get so much mail that I cannot respond to every one, but I do try to answer specific questions or requests, and some of these were among the vaporized e-mails.   I renamed my computer Expletive-Deleted after this little episode, but a computer savvy friend said it is really the fault of Outlook Express; apparently the program will take it upon itself to dump e-mails at random when it “decides” the In Box is getting too full.   So I suppose I’ll have to curse Bill Gates instead of my computer, although that is not as much fun since he started giving his billions away to worthwhile charities.  Anyway, for all readers who e-mailed me during the month of April with questions, I would ask you to e-mail me again since your e-mails may have ended up in a black hole of  cyberspace.

       I have some surprising news.  Ballantine Books is planning to send me out on a brief book tour at the time they publish Devil’s Brood and re-issue Time and Chance and When Christ and His Saints Slept in late July.    I’ve done numerous book tours over the years, but this is the first time a paperback house is arranging one for me, so I am very grateful to Ballantine for resurrecting my canceled tour from last October.   The trip itinerary will be posted by week’s end in the Press Room section of my website, but basically I am going to the same stores I’d planned to visit before my unexpected hospital stay wreaked havoc with our plans and will be visiting Bailey’s Crossroads, VA, West Chester, PA, Dayton, Ohio, and Ann Arbor, MI.     I will also be in the Chicago suburbs for the Historical Novel Society Conference on June 12^th through the 14^th, but unfortunately that is not open to the general public, only to conference participants.   I ought to have some interesting stories for you guys, though, when I get back!

     I am updating my Research Recommendations section, and have added a heartfelt Mea Culpa to my Medieval Mishaps page, having discovering a monumental error in The Reckoning.   I am repeating my apology here because I want to publicize it as widely as possible. On p. 229, Edward is discussing weaponry with Roger de Mortimer, and Roger says that longbows are more easily mastered than the crossbow.  This could not be further from the truth.  A man could learn to use a crossbow fairly quickly, whereas it took years of training and considerable physical strength to shoot a longbow.   I am baffled by the mistake, for I am obsessive-compulsive about my research, one reason why it takes me so long to write one of my historical novels.   But since The Reckoning was published eighteen years ago, I will never be able to solve this bizarre mystery.  I can only seek to spread the word about the error—and grovel a bit.   BTW, Bernard Cornwell’s new novel Agincourt is the book to read if you want to know more about the use of longbows.   And there is an interesting story about Richard I and crossbows.  Upon Richard’s arrival in Acre, he was struck down by a mysterious ailment that also infected the French king.  Richard was seriously ill, but as soon as he was on the mend, he insisted upon being taken by litter to the siege site, and lying within a shelter from the extreme heat, he spent hours firing a crossbow at the defenders up on the city walls.   

      There is a new biography of Eleanor, written by the British historian Ralph Turner.  I have not had time to read it from cover to cover yet, have just been skimming so far, but I’ve read enough to recommend it.   He has an excellent account of Eleanor’s time on crusade and a perceptive analysis of the reasons why she has been such a lighting rod for controversy over the centuries.  I did find one startling error; he says that Henry’s father Geoffrey drowned in the River Loire, whereas Geoffrey actually died of a fever after swimming in the Loire to cool off on a hot day.   But even the best historians are not infallible and I’d be the last person to quibble at an occasional error.  (See longbow lunacy above.) 

     Dr. Turner and I do not always interpret known facts in the same way, but his conclusions are always defensible.  For example, he believes that Henry did seduce Alys, the unhappy French princess.  Based upon what we know, I think that is a legitimate point of view.  I concluded otherwise, but after reading his argument, I confess that I felt a pang or two of regret that I’d been convinced by Henry’s biographers and my own understanding of Henry’s very pragmatic character.   As I admitted in my AN for Devil’s Brood, I felt cheated that I hadn’t been able to take the Lion in Winter route, for writers instinctively yearn for scenes of high drama.   Whatever the arguments pro and con about Henry and Alys, the film is very much out of date in its depiction of a love affair between Richard and Philippe, the French king.  But it is still great fun to watch and I continue to recommend it highly to one and all.  Peter O’Toole and Katharine Hepburn were perfection itself as Henry and Eleanor, probably even better than the originals themselves!

      Now back to Lionheart.   I am happy to report that Eleanor and Berengaria have safely arrived in Italy.  Because we know which alpine pass they took, I was able to figure out the route they must have followed, which was great fun.   As I’ve always been fascinated by travel in bygone times, I have gone into considerable details about Eleanor’s journey.  I just hope my editors will let me keep all these details in!   Eleanor took the Montgenevre Pass over the Alps, which is now a ski resort.  I wonder what she would have thought of that?   If you’d like to see some photos of Montgenevre today, google “Montgenevre photos” and prepare to be amazed by all that comes up.   

         Because I had so much to communicate this time, I’m afraid I will have to limit my favorite part of each blog—responding to your comments and questions.  I’ll try to make up for it next time.  Cindy, welcome aboard!  (We’ve met at the Poisoned Pen, as Cindy is lucky enough to live near Scottsdale.)   Your news about Legacy is fantastic.  This is, by far, my favorite book about Elizabeth Tudor.   I haven’t read it in years, am delighted that it will be reprinted.   I have often wondered if Susan Kay wrote any other books or if this was her only child, a la Harper Lee and To Kill a Mockingbird.    But for anyone interested in the Tudors and first-rate writing, this is the book to buy.   On the same subject, I think the best novel I’ve read about Anne Boleyn is Norah Lofts’ The Concubine.   Anyone else read it?

       Cindy, your comment about the need for a genealogy planted the seed for another question.   Do you as readers prefer a straight genealogical chart or a cast of characters for historical novels like mine?    Michele, I’m sorry I couldn’t take part in your book club discussion.  I’ve done a few by phone and they are great fun.  In fact, Ballantine is going to set up some phone chats with their Reading Clubs when their edition of Devil’s Brood comes out.   Gabriele, you have to write about Arminius!   He sounded so intriguing that I did a bit of on-line research and there is no doubt he deserves a book of his own.  Did you know his campaign was mentioned in Robert Graves’ classic, I, Claudius, under the name Hermann?   I’m not sure why ancient Rome casts such a potent spell as I doubt that any of us would have liked to live under the Empire or even the Republic, but novels about Rome are irresistible.  (Another hint, Gabriele, hang in there!)   I have just started Michelle Moran’s new novel, Cleopatra’s Daughter (her child by Marc Antony) and it looks like another winner for her.  

        Ken, it sounds as if you might have to reconsider your game plan.  Would you feel as if you had more control of your material if you focused on only three of your main characters instead of four?   Or you might want to think about writing two books, as I did with Falls the Shadow and The Reckoning.   Is there a natural breaking point in the story line?   I was fortunate in that Shadow had an obvious ending with Simon’s death.  And when I decided that I wanted to do a trilogy about Henry, it was easy to break his life into three segments.  That is not always the case, though.  Would it work to use Evesham as a natural breaking point for Othon’s story?  Based on my own experience, I would suggest you think about splitting it into two or maybe even three books.   The alternative is to leave a lot on the cutting room floor and that can be painful.      

      I loved Elizabeth’s description of Henry as a blazing fire that eventually burned out.  Henry will always be my personal favorite among the English kings, for he seems like the epitome of a Shakespearean tragic hero, one brought down by his own flaws.   I’ve discovered that he casts a long shadow and his memory remains very much alive in Lionheart.   Susan, I’ll see if I can find out from St Martins when The Reckoning will be available in Kindle format.  Lastly, you posed such a wonderful question, Carrie—how much historical interpretation or inaccuracies will readers accept?   I have a low tolerance level myself, but I have friends who are willing to overlook anachronisms if they are swept along by a strong story line.    So…here’s our question for the next blog.    Can powerful writing compensate for faulty research?      

May 20, 2009      

Wow!   This was a fascinating discussion about the use of purely fictional characters in books like mine.   Without doubt, I have remarkably perceptive and eloquent readers! It is gratifying, too, to find that my readers can intuitively sense what I am attempting to do with characters like Ranulf and Rhiannon; you were absolutely right, Michele, in concluding that I’d inserted Rhiannon into the story line to shed light upon the treatment of people with disabilities in the MA.    In Saints, I had Ranulf rescue two orphan children from the Fens, and again, I used them to dramatize the hardscrabble, perilous life of those at the very bottom of society’s social pyramid.   Several of you made the valid point that, in a sense, all characters in a book are fictional; writers start with the skeletal frame, if they are lucky, but then they have to flesh out the character by drawing upon their imaginations.

       This is where I think an Author’s Note is invaluable, for I firmly believe that if an author deviates from known historical facts, there is an obligation to discuss this deviation in the AN.  So often all we know of medieval people are their names and the stark facts of their lives—birth, marriage, death.  But when we are lucky enough to distill the essence of their beings from chronicles or individual actions, I think we owe it to our readers—and to the memories of these long-dead men and women—to depict them as they were, not as we’d like them to be.   So I am in total agreement with you, Sandy; it upsets me when I read a novel in which a real historical figure is distorted beyond recognition for the sake of plot development or the writer’s convenience.  Elizabeth Chadwick calls books like this “wall-bangers,” for even if they are well written, they are not playing fair with history.  

        I also agree with Sara’s post, that it can be liberating to read a book in which the fates of the main characters are not known.  This is one reason why I have enjoyed writing of medieval Wales so much.  I recently finished Brian Wainwright’s excellent historical novel, Within the Fetterlock, and one of the book’s many joys was that I was quite unfamiliar with his heroine, Constance of York.  So there were surprises lurking on every page.  And yes, this is the same Brian Wainwright who wrote the hilarious spoof, The Adventures of Alianore Audley.  While I’m on the subject of books I’ve been reading, I want to recommend another of Elizabeth Chadwick’s novels, Shadows and Strongholds, set in the 12^th century during the last years of  the civil war between Stephen and Henry Fitz Empress. As always, she has created vivid, three-dimensional characters while skillfully balancing the needs of the novelist with those of the historian.  She is particularly effective at revealing the precarious nature of their lives during this turbulent, violent era of English history, just as she did in her book about John Marshal, A Place Beyond Courage.  It truly was a time when Christ and his saints slept.    

       Some of your recent comments concerned the challenges of travel in the MA.  I have been doing extensive research about the crossing of the Alps, and some of the accounts of these harrowing experiences are riveting.   It speaks volumes about the courage and hardiness of medieval men and women that they so often undertook voyages that would be unthinkable in our age.  John of Salisbury crossed the Alps no less than ten times, whereas once would have been more than enough for me if it had to be done by mule.  Our Eleanor did it four times, the last two crossings when she was well into her sixties and in the dead of winter, too.   This is the next chapter in Lionheart, and I am looking forward to it—sometimes writers can have devilish fun making our characters suffer in the name of high drama! 

      Megan, I am so pleased that you named your son Owen; I understand, though, why you compromised with Anglicized spelling.  I did the same in Here be Dragons, using the more familiar spelling of Llewelyn rather than the pure Welsh of Llywelyn.  And friends of mine in Colorado who wanted to name their daughter after Gwynedd opted for spelling her name Gwyneth—although most people now assume she was named after Gwyneth Paltrow. 

        I find it very interesting that some of you are writers, too.  I hope you’ll keep us updated on the progress of your novel, Ken, as Othon sounds like a man who definitely deserves to have his own book.   I was intrigued by your revelation, Gabriele, that your novel was not working for you until you decided to add a “layer of magic.”   And I understand completely your complaint that some characters have to be watched closely lest they take the book in directions the writer does not want to go.   I’ve had several characters show that sort of devious determination to claim center stage.  Llewelyn ap Gruffydd’s brother Davydd had his own ideas how his character should be portrayed, and we had a battle of wills that lasted through two books.   Another character who took a small role and expanded it until he stole virtually every scene he was in was the Welsh poet-prince, Hywel ab Owain Gwynedd.  As an example, he wanted to go along with his friend Ranulf when Henry attempted to make good Eleanor’s rather tenuous claim to Toulouse.   So he reminded me that one of the chronicles said a Welsh prince did, in fact, accompany the English army, insisting with impeccable logic that since the name of this prince was not known, who is to say it could not have been Hywel?   Because he was a charmer, without some of Davydd’s darker undertones, Hywel usually got his way.  It is hard to deny a man whose poetry has withstood the tests of eight centuries.

       James, I am sorry but I cannot comment upon The Tudors, never having seen any of the episodes; too much fiction and not enough history for me.    Kristen, I’ve only read one Alys Clare mystery; while they are well written, I was not comfortable with the freedom enjoyed by her abbess.  If you want an accurate portrayal of the world of a medieval nun, try any of Margaret Frazer’s Sister Frevisse mysteries.  Robin, I’m not familiar with the trilogy written by Posie Graeme-Evans; I tend to stay away from books written about “my” characters; while I’m writing, I don’t want to be influenced, even subconsciously, and afterward a sense of territorial imperative kicks in!   Kristen, all of the songs I quoted in the wedding scene in The Reckoning were actual medieval compositions, but I am sure “Maria Perez” was the creation of a troubadour’s inventive imagination.  Women did take part in the crusades, though, the most infamous case being that of Eleanor of Aquitaine, dubbed by one recent historian the “femme fatale of the Second Crusade.”    Lastly, I hope your wedding was a lovely one, Beth, and the notoriously erratic Welsh weather cooperated for once. 

         Judith has pointed out that there are societies for Richard III, Simon de Montfort, and Napoleon, but sadly, none for Eleanor.  There is also a Gwenllian Society in Wales, and they have succeeded in getting a Welsh mountain named in honor of this tragic princess.    I agree with Judith that Eleanor has been unfairly overlooked.  Anyone want to remedy that injustice and start a society on her behalf? 

       I’d mentioned doing a book drawing, but I think I’ll have to save it for the next blog.  Eleanor is impatient to cross the Pyrenees and collect Richard’s future wife, and I am not going to argue with a woman who signed herself “Eleanor, by the wrath of God, Queen of England.”

May 5, 2009

      I’d like to thank those of you who submitted questions for The Reckoning’s Book Club.  I passed them on to St Martin’s and they were delighted.  They made some minor editing changes, but used most of them, as well as several I’d provided.   You can read them at http://www.readinggroupgold.com/product/product.aspx?isbn=0312382472 ; click onto the Reading Group Guide to find The Reckoning.    A few of you offered questions after St Martin’s had posted them on-line, but I submitted them anyway, and they could possibly be added at a later date.  In any event, everyone who posed a question was eligible for the drawing.  And the winner is Suzanne; as soon as you send me your address, I’ll mail signed paperback copies of Here Be Dragons and Falls the Shadow and a hardback copy of The Reckoning.

        Erika, I’ve decided you have second-sight, for your question about the use of fictional characters was one I’d already proposed myself to St Martin’s!   I was very interested in the subsequent discussion between you and several other posters about this.      Erika, you also asked if this was done for a particular purpose.   The answer is yes.   Sometimes all I know of a secondary character is the name; so I then have to give that character a history.  Eleanor’s maid Amaria is an example of this.  So, too, are Hugh and Juliana in The Reckoning; I knew they were in Ellen de Montfort’s service, but nothing else, so I had to breathe life into them.  Hugh served a double purpose, for I also used his happy ending with Caitlin to mitigate the stark tragedy of the book’s conclusion.  And I  created Ranulf because I worried that my readers would not be able to fully identify with either Stephen or Maude, who were their own worst enemies.    I meant for Ranulf to bridge that sympathy gap until the young Henry Fitz Empress came onto center stage.  Ranulf was a hit with so many of my readers that I kept him on payroll, and then passed the baton on to his son Morgan in Lionheart!  

        So here is my question.    How do you feel about the insertion of purely fictional characters in novels that dramatize the lives of people who actually lived?  Suzanne would prefer to take her history straight, without any sweeteners.   Erika and Paula like a few glimmers of hope midst the darkness.     What about the rest of you?

       Now I’d like to respond to specific comments.    Cassandra, thank you so much for letting us know about bookdepository.com; it is a great site.   You asked about Simon de Montfort’s speech to his men before the battle of Evesham.  Chroniclers reported that he’d given such a speech; I filled in the blanks myself.      Angela, I loved your song for Joanna.  Gayle is right; set it to music and you have a ballad.     Maritza, I don’t have any plans to write about Richard of York and Cecily Neville.  Margaret Frazer has been talking about it for some time, though, so she is the one who needs prodding!   I do intend to write about Owain Glyn Dwr; Owain’s book will come after I finish Lionheart and my novels about Balian of Ibelin and Constance de Hauteville.   Thanks for sharing your “genealogical tidbit” with us, Marilyn, that the wives of Edward I and his brother Edmund were second cousins.   It is surprising how tangled the bloodlines of the highborn become.  For example, Richard’s queen, Berengaria, was the daughter of Sancho VI, King of Navarre.  She was therefore related to Richard’s sister Joanna by marriage, as Joanna’s husband William, King of Sicily, was Berengaria’s first cousin; William’s mother was a princess of Navarre, sister to Berengaria’s father.   Lastly, I’d like to address a question posed by Jenny.   You said you were troubled by Llewelyn ap Gruffydd’s “negative reaction” to his newborn daughter.  This was immediately after the death of his beloved wife in childbirth, so he was still in shock.  But I think his scene with his sister-in-law Elizabeth shows that he would have cherished his daughter had he not died so soon thereafter.

         I wanted to let you all know that I recently did an on-line interview with A ‘n’ E Vibe Magazine; it can be read at http://www.anevibe.com/headlines/bringing-history-to-life-an-interview-with-sharon-kay-penman.html       And my agent, Molly Friedrich, has informed me that one of her writers, Joseph Finder, has come up with an excellent idea to show support for independent bookstores.  He wants to declare this coming May 1^st as “Buy Indie Day,” hoping that we’ll all try to make a purchase at an independent bookstore in our communities on that day as a show of solidarity; he has set up a facebook event for those needing further information.   Sadly, my local independent bookstore closed a number of years ago, so I will buy a book from The Poisoned Pen, my favorite bookstore and one of the “indies.”    

        Lastly, I am sure we are all grieving for the people suffering so from the earthquake that struck the Abruzzo region of Italy.   Earthquakes have done so much damage over the centuries.  Medieval Messina was destroyed by an earthquake early in the 20^th century.  Another one wreaked havoc in the 18^th century, and Sicily was rocked by one in 1169, which leveled the town of Catania.     If you would like to make donations to help the survivors of L’Aquila and the surrounding villages, you can go to http://www.justgiving.com/italy-abruzzo-earthquake  where In Italy Magazine has arranged for contributions to be made to the British Red Cross; any such donations will be used only for the earthquake victims. 

       Lionheart is keeping me very busy these days, which is why it sometimes takes me so long to do a new blog.   In my next one, I hope to do another drawing, offering a signed copy of Devil’s Brood as the prize; I thought it might be fun to offer the English edition this time.  

April 14, 2009

       New evidence of the existence of Robin Hood?   It may be.  Dr Julian Luxford, an expert in medieval manuscript studies at the University of St Andrews in Fife, Scotland, has revealed that he found an intriguing mention of the legendary outlaw scribbled in the margins of the Polychronicon, a history written by Ralph Higden (c. 1280-1363).  The comment, written in Latin by a monk about 1460, said, “Around this time, according to popular opinion, a certain outlaw named Robin Hood, with his accomplices, infested Sherwood and other law-abiding areas of England with continuous robberies.”  Dr. Luxford believes that this might be the earliest written chronicle reference to Robin Hood, and he points out its “uniquely negative assessment” of the outlaw; not a word, you notice, about stealing from the rich to give to the poor!     

      People have been arguing for years about whether there was a real Robin Hood, a series of Robin Hoods, or if he was merely a myth.   I can say for a reasonable certainty that if Robin did exist, he wasn’t battling “Evil Prince John” while waiting for “Good King Richard” to return from the crusades. I’ve always been partial to the theory that Robin Hood and his band of merry men were followers of Simon de Montfort, outlawed after Simon’s defeat and death at the battle of Evesham in 1265, and so I was pleased to see that Dr Luxford agrees with me, saying that “The new find places Robin Hood in Edward’s reign, thus supporting the belief that his legend is of 13^th century origin.”   

           I began this blog with the item about Robin Hood because I thought we needed a bit of good news; we all agree that if there wasn’t a Robin Hood, there ought to have been one, right?   The world is not a cheerful place these days, and we have to take our cheer wherever we can find it.    Like many people, I felt very sad about the tragic death this week of Natasha Richardson.  While writing Devil’s Brood, I did a lot of research about subdural and epidural hemorrhages, for that was the injury causing Geoffrey’s death.  I remember thinking that we were so lucky, living in an age when such injuries could be successfully treated, whereas it was an automatic death sentence for Geoffrey.  But we can have too much faith in modern medicine.    

        I have some book news now.  St Martin’s Press has brought out new editions of Sunne in Splendour, Here Be Dragons, and Falls the Shadow.  They will be publishing The Reckoning on April 14^th.   St Martin’s has selected all these books for their reading clubs, and provides questions and a reading guide at their website.   It occurred to me that this could be a good opportunity to have another book giveaway; I really enjoyed the last one.   So….here are the rules.  If you would like to suggest any questions for The Reckoning reading groups, post them on my next blog.  I will then pass them on to St Martin’s, and if they like them, they’ll add them to their website reading guide for The Reckoning.   Anyone who submits a question will be entered in a drawing, and the winner will get a signed hardback edition of The Reckoning (the paperback is not available yet) and signed paperback copies of Here Be Dragons and Falls the Shadow. 

        Ballantine Books will be putting out new editions of When Christ and His Saints Slept and Time and Chance at the same time that they publish the paperback edition of Devil’s Brood; the official publication date for all three is July 28^th.  And Penguin UK will be publishing their paperback edition of Devil’s Brood in August; as soon as I get the exact date, I’ll let you know.     I think it will be fun to have book giveaways for them, too, so stay tuned. 

       Okay, now to reader mail.  Thank you all for continuing to share your reading lists.  My only concern is that I’ll need nine lives like a cat in order to follow your recommendations; as the bumper sticker goes, “So many books, so little time.”   Judith, thank you for sharing your song with us.  I love the idea that a young American in the 21^st century was inspired to write a song about a woman dead more than eight centuries.  I think we need to feel that connection to our past, and it saddens me that so many people seem indifferent or even hostile to history.  I truly believe that we need to know what happened yesterday before we can decide what to do tomorrow.   And it is fun to imagine Joanna’s reaction (or Eleanor’s or Henry’s) if only they knew we were still fascinated by their lives so long after their deaths.  

       An interesting question, too, Judith, about Anne Boleyn.  I tend to agree with you and Kristen, think Henry would eventually have divorced Katherine of Aragon even if Anne had died prematurely.  I think by then he’d convinced himself that he “must” have a male heir.   And I could not agree more with Carrie’s poetic observation—that the cracks in history are wonderful places for the imagination to flourish.   I just wish people found the Plantagenets as fascinating as they do the Tudors—it would certainly help the sales of my books!

       Suzanne, Geoffrey, the Archbishop of York, did not refer to himself as Plantagenet.  As I mentioned in an earlier blog, the first one to make use of that surname was the Duke of York, father of Edward IV and Richard III, in the 15^th century.   Historians will refer to them by that name for convenience; I did that myself in one or two of my books, the earlier ones.  Another example is the use of the surname Capet for the French dynasty that came before the Valois kings.  I refer to Louis Capet often in my trilogy, even though he would not have called himself that; it took a while for it to be adopted by the kings of his dynasty.  I realize I am being inconsistent, referring to Louis Capet but insisting upon calling Henry by the name he called himself—Fitz Empress.  But Louis was a secondary player; had he been the main character, I probably wouldn’t have used Capet.

      It is tricky, no doubt about it.  Right now I am having fits trying to avoid using the words “crusade” or “crusader” in dialogue, since those terms were not used in the 12^th century.   They spoke of “taking the cross” or “pilgrimage”.   There are times when I absolutely have to use “crusade” in the narrative, if only to save my sanity.  But I am making an effort not to put the word in Richard’s mouth.   And yes, you could probably find it in misused in Here Be Dragons.   But that was only my second book and I was still learning—also I was not as obsessive-compulsive then as I would later become! 

       If I am doing a Mea Culpa for Dragons, though, I have more to explain than an occasional use of “crusade” or even “Plantagenet”.  Someone reading Dragons after reading Devil’s Brood might well wonder if the same author wrote both books.   In Dragons, John certainly does not share my doubts about Richard’s sexuality and he is obviously convinced that his father had taken the unfortunate Alys as his mistress.    Richard and Henry were minor characters in Dragons, appearing only very briefly, and so I did not do the sort of extensive research about either man that I did for John; see my above comment about being obsessive-compulsive.  Moreover, Dragons was researched and written more than twenty-five years ago, and history is not static; it is a river, not a pond, and previously unknown facts and nuggets of information are constantly being revealed by that surging current.  

        I’m sure we’ll be discussing this in future blogs.   For now, I can report that Richard and his army have reached Sicily, where he is about to wreak his usual havoc.   And Remember–submit any questions for The Reckoning book club and you’re in the drawing.

March 22, 2009