Marguerite of Anjou - A woman scorned...

by Judith Arnopp

I first came across Marguerite while I was at university where I was struck by her unjust legacy. I spent many years researching and writing about Marguerite’s contemporary, Margaret Beaufort, who similarly fought for her son. The similarities only diverge when Margaret Beaufort triumphs and Marguerite’s hopes perish on Tewkesbury field.

Yorkist propaganda against Marguerite of Anjou begins early in her story and continues to affect our perception of her today. Polydore Vergil’s assessment of her character, taken from widespread Yorkist propaganda, echoes loudly in Shakespeare’s malevolent portrayal of the queen in his play ‘The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York and the Good King Henry the Sixth’

‘She wolf of France but worse than the wolves of France,

whose tongue more poisons than the adder’s tooth!

How ill be-seeming is it in thy sex

To triumph like an Amazonian trull

Upon their woes who Fortune captivates!

But that thy face is vizard like, unchanging,

Made impudent with use of evil deeds,

I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush.

To tell thee whence thy cam’st, of whom derived,

Were shame enough to shame thee, wert not shameless.’ (Act 1.4.112)

Sounds like a nice lady but my research revealed no monster but simply a queen determined to maintain her husband’s throne and to secure the inheritance of her son.  But Marguerite was a foreigner, unhampered by the political restraint placed upon English women and that fact cast the first shadow over her life in England.

Marguerite came from a line of determined women; both her paternal grandmother Yolande of Aragon, and her mother, Isabelle of Lorraine were deeply involved in politics and championed the rights of their absent husbands, raised taxes and armies, administered the duchies and laid down policies. Both women impacted on Marguerite’s own experience after she became Queen of England. To Marguerite, on finding her crown at risk, there was only one thing she could do and that was fight.

During her early years as queen, Marguerite acted as a supporting, conciliatory presence behind the king, mainly confining her activities to matchmaking and obtaining positions at court for friends and servants. She used her influence to secure the surrender of Maine and Anjou and, although the pressure on her to comply is obvious to us now, the act did not endear her to her new subjects.  

Her first real intercession into politics was during the Jack Cade rebellion when at her instigation Henry agreed to show leniency and issue a pardon to the rebels.  The king’s preamble to the pardon illustrates Marguerite’s role in the matter.

‘Nevertheless, recalling to the reflection and consideration of our mind that among those virtues fitting and proper to the royal person and dignity, none befits him more than clemency, which is apt to bring about and put the shame of sinning in the minds of his subject people, and considering as well that it is fitting to show himself such a prince to his subjects as he wishes and desires God to be supreme and high Lord him, persuaded and moved by these and many other pious considerations, among others by the most humble and persistent supplications, prayers and requests of our most serene and beloved wife and consort the queen…we have pardoned…’

The lure of a pardon undermined Cade’s force and mention of Marguerite’s intercession allowed Henry to show leniency without appearing weak. 

It is quite possible that had Henry not fallen ill, Marguerite’s supporting role would have continued but as his condition worsened and the threat from the Yorkist faction grew stronger, she had little option but to assume a more prominent position. The fluctuating health of the king meant that increasingly she governed beneath the cloak of Henry’s kingship, continuing to represent herself as subordinate to the king’s authority whilst, in fact, assuming increasing power.

During a lull in Henry’s illness Marguerite produced the king with an heir Edward, securing Lancaster’s position and dealing a blow to the ambitious Duke of York who was previously Henry’s heir. It is no coincidence that around this time propaganda against the queen increased, and York’s attempts to undermine Margaret’s authority picked up pace.

Some contemporary reports accuse the queen of sexual misconduct and her son, Edward, is described as a ‘changeling,’ a term which infers he was base born.  Two days before York was removed from office on 23 February 1456 a John Helton was executed for distributing bills that alleged the prince was not the queen’s son.  

As the enmity between York and Lancaster increased, the battle for power descended into military combat obliging Marguerite to step further and further from the expected feminine role. The nobles of England and their adherents were killed in skirmishes and battles, the reins of government passing from York to Henry (or Marguerite)  but it was not until the Battle of Towton that the reign of Lancaster was all but ended and the new Yorkist dynasty arose.

York was dead and Edward IV was firmly on the throne, Marguerite could have faded into gentile retirement. The House of York’s vendetta against the deposed queen could have ceased. But poetry and pamphlets continued to be issued, denigrating both Marguerite and her claim to the throne. She was blamed for the fall of the Lancastrian dynasty and stereotyped as ‘an angry woman driven by malice, spreading sorrow, disorder and confusion in her wake.’  

Marguerite, still refusing to admit defeat, spent the next ten years in exile, plotting to reinstate her son Edward. Her determination strong enough that when Warwick fell out with Edward IV, she formed an alliance with her great enemy and consented to a marriage between her son and Warwick’s youngest daughter, Anne.  

It was a short lived alliance that ended for Warwick at Barnet, and for Marguerite at Tewkesbury where her seventeen year old son was killed, along with her ambition for the English throne.

But Yorkist propaganda continued, using a wide range of devices to defame Marguerite, making it difficult, even now, to obtain a clear view of her. Early historians picked up the Yorkist banner and continued to dehumanise her, subverting her female instinct to nurture into an unnatural lust for murder.

               By the time Shakespeare wrote his Wars of the Roses plays Marguerite’s had already come to epitomise unrelieved lust for power possessing a ‘tigers heart wrapped in a woman’s hide.’   Her strength is undermined by her female flaws and she ‘lacks the true qualities of royalty...the queen’s character is also tainted by immorality: she is an adulteress. But it is power rather than lust which dominates her character, and vengefulness which becomes its most terrible flaw.’  

In Henry VI part III her feminine weaknesses are replaced by the most ignoble of male attributes; she is masculine but akin to the worst of men. Shakespeare’s Marguerite is an arch-villainess whose femininity is inverted to encompass the direst human traits; her assumption of a male role and her lust for blood and revenge reverses the natural order and creates chaos in the realm. 

In the hands of the bard, Marguerite is a marvellous authorial depiction of twisted humanity and as a playwright Shakespeare remains unchallenged but a historian he was not.  Unfortunately, Shakespeare’s history plays came to be utilised not as examples of literary genius but as factual documents of history.

In the 1840’s Agnes Strickland published her Lives of the Queens of England and viewed Marguerite’s story ‘...of more powerful of interest than are to be found in the imaginary career of any heroine of romance; for the creations of fiction, however forcibly they may appeal to our imagination, fade into insignificance before the simple majesty of truth.’

Like other Victorian moralists, Strickland provides a highly romanticised picture of an unfortunate queen who unwisely meddled in the concerns of men. Marguerite becomes pitiful in her defeat but Strickland, by illustrating her utter personal defeat and regret, upholds the medieval opinion of a woman’s proper place.

‘There is something touching in the very simplicity of the Latin sentence with which the deed begins, that was wrung from the broken-hearted heroine who had, through so many storms of adversity, defended the rights of her royal consort and son.  While they remained in life, she would have died a thousand deaths rather than relinquish even the most shadowy of their claims; but the dear ones were no more,

‘Ambition, pride, the rival names

of York and Lancaster,

with all their long contested claims

what were they then to her?

Passively and almost with indifference, Margaret subscribed the instrument commencing ‘Ego, Margarita dum in regno Anglia maritata etc. I, Margaret, formerly in England married, renounce all that I could pretend to in England by the conditions of my marriage, with all other things there, to Edward, now king of England.’

J. J. Bagley in his biography of Marguerite written in 1948 provides a less romantic presentation. Bagley admits that Marguerite ‘did not cause the Wars of the Roses, but her intense, bitter feeling, her refusal to compromise, and her disregard of any other factor than the inheritance of her only son were reflected in the brutal, callous nature of the prolonged struggle.  For the sake of its own cause and for the welfare of the English people, the house of Lancaster might have wished for a wiser and more understanding leader, but nowhere could it have found a braver and more determined champion. Queen Margaret’s life was more than a sad story. It was a true tragedy, for the root cause of her failure lay, not in the fickle fate of battles, but in her own character and philosophy.’

In Bagley’s opinion, the Lancastrian cause could not have wished for a braver leader but perhaps one less swayed by dangerous female characteristics such as loyalty to her son and a determination to maintain a hold on his birthright.  

Richard, Duke of York was equally ambitious for his sons and fought just as fiercely for what he saw as his own rights and, moreover, he fought against an anointed king. 

Marguerite was trying to defend the throne of England against attack, as was her duty.

Historical research in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries has focused on the study of women and how women have exercised power; gendered analysis has allowed historians to move away from the traditional perception of queens.  Modern scholars look at the restrictions placed upon them and how those limitations impinged upon their political lives.  Marguerite pushed the boundaries of her engendered position; faced with the insurmountable problem of an inefficient consort she was forced to take unpopular actions and has since been judged accordingly. 

Other people have campaigned for thrones, overthrown kings and taken power from weak or incompetent rulers and (with the exception of Richard III) have not been recorded historically as unnatural monsters; the only difference is that they were men. 

Marguerite posed a threat to male rule that the medieval world was unprepared to accept.   A woman out of her prescribed place was deemed ‘unnatural’ and any divergence from the norm considered suspect and therefore dangerous.  Rosaldo clarifies the point in his book Women, Culture and Society,

‘Societies that define woman as lacking legitimate authority have no way of acknowledging the reality of female power.  This difference between rule and reality is reflected in our own society when we speak of powerful women as ‘bitches.’’

Marguerite’s determination and indefatigable resolve to win back her son’s throne was only exhausted by his death. In a man such tenacity would be heroic.  She has been labelled a violent and vengeful woman but surely she was no more so than her male opponents.  The unique circumstances in which she found herself made it impossible to follow prescribed gender boundaries while her opponents remained unfettered.  

Hostile propaganda, perpetuated by male playwrights and Victorian moralists, remains in our consciousness today.  Every day on social media I hear derogatory comments against Marguerite and her contemporary, Margaret Beaufort, but medieval history cannot be judged from a modern perspective and it does nobody any favours to perpetuate the misogyny of the past. 

As was my intention in The Beaufort Chronicle which traces the life of Margaret Beaufort, my novel, Marguerite: Hell Hath No Fury is my own poor attempt to rectify the flawed perception of a brave woman. 

~~~~~

Judith Arnopp – Author Biography

A lifelong history enthusiast and avid reader, Judith holds a BA in English/Creative writing and a Masters in Medieval Studies. She lives on the coast of West Wales where she writes both fiction and non-fiction. She is best known for her novels set in the Medieval and Tudor period, focussing on the perspective of historical women but recently she has written a trilogy from the perspective of Henry VIII himself.

 Judith is also a founder member of a re-enactment group called The Fyne Companye of Cambria which is when and why she began to experiment with sewing historical garments. She now makes clothes and accessories both for the group and others. She is not a professionally trained sewer but through trial, error and determination has learned how to make authentic looking, if not strictly historically accurate clothing. A non-fiction book about Tudor clothing, How to Dress like a Tudor, was published in 2023 by Pen and Sword.

 She runs a small seaside holiday let in Aberporth and when she has time for fun, likes to garden and restore antique doll’s houses. You can find her on most social media platforms.

 Her novels include:

A Song of Sixpence: the story of Elizabeth of York

The Beaufort Chronicle: the life of Lady Margaret Beaufort (three book series)

The Henrician Chronicle: comprising of:

A Matter of Conscience: Henry VIII, the Aragon Years (Book One of The Henrician Chronicle)

A Matter of Faith: Henry VIII, the Days of the Phoenix (Book Two of The Henrician Chronicle)

A Matter of Time: Henry VIII, the Dying of the Light (Book Three of The Henrician Chronicle)

The Kiss of the Concubine: a story of Anne Boleyn

The Winchester Goose: at the court of Henry VIII

Intractable Heart: the story of Katheryn Parr

Sisters of Arden: on the Pilgrimage of Grace

The Heretic Wind: the life of Mary Tudor, Queen of England

Peaceweaver

The Forest Dwellers

The Song of Heledd

The Book of Thornhold

A Daughter of Warwick: the story of Anne Neville, Queen of Richard III

Marguerite: Hell Hath No Fury! 

Webpage: http://www.judithmarnopp.com

Amazon Author Page: author.to/juditharnoppbooks

Blog: www.juditharnoppnovelist.blogspot.co.uk/

Social media links

https://www.facebook.com/thetudorworldofjuditharnopp

https://x.com/JudithArnopp

https://www.threads.net/@tudor_juditharnopp 

Illustrations via WikimediaCommons

Fig 1 - John Talbot, 1st Earl of Shrewsbury, presents the Book of Romances to Margaret of Anjou, Queen to Henry VI 

Fig 2 - Portrait of Marguerite of Anjou (1430 -1482) Queen Consort of England

Fig 3 - John Gilbert - Margaret of Anjou taken prisoner after the battle of Tewkesbury (1875)

Fig 4 - Richard Burchett (1815-1875) - Sanctuary (Edward IV and Lancastrian Fugitives at Tewkesbury Abbey) - 600 - Guildhall Art Gallery

The influence of the Anglo-Saxon language on modern English by Toni Mount

     As an author, I’m fascinated by the English language with all its quirky words, strange spellings and vast vocabulary which gives writers such a wealth of words that we can describe a single mood in so many ways without repeating ourselves. For example, from my window, I can see the day is murky, cheerless, dismal, gloomy, drab, sullen, misty, drizzly, damp, grey, etc. But how has this come about?

If we were to travel back in time to, say, sixth century England, we would hear our forebears, the Anglo-Saxon peoples, speaking a language which sounds nothing like modern English. If we understand German, there may be a few more similarities in the sound of the language but, even so, it’s quite different. They are speaking Old English, a West Germanic language used in England between the fifth and twelfth centuries. The people call their language Aenglisc, [pronounced: Enn-glish] and their home is Aengelcynn or Englaland.

Some interesting words change over time to become quite unrecognisable and hlaf has a fascinating story to tell. The word originally meant ‘loaf’, the ‘h’ sounded softly [and eventually dropped], followed by ‘laaff’, and this is how the Anglo-Saxons referred to bread and also to food in general. Surprisingly, hlaf had other uses too. The head of the household was the hlaf-weard or loaf-warden and anyone who ate the food was a hlaf-aeta. The woman of the house was the hlaefdige or loaf-kneader, using the feminine form and where dige became our modern ‘dough’. Hlaf-weard evolved, losing ‘h’ and ‘f’, running the words together so it sounded like ‘lahrd, then the Scots ‘laird’ and, ultimately, ‘lord’. So that grand title originally meant the guy in charge of the food. Hlaefdige went through similar changes, dropping letters and with ‘g’ pronounced as ‘y’, to become ‘lady’. 

But across the land, the language may have sounded quite different because there were not only the Angles and the Saxons, but Jutes, Frisians, Swedes and maybe other groups from Europe. Also, there were the Roman Britons who had remnants of the Celtic language, spoken before the Romans arrived in 43AD, to which Latin had been added. So people were speaking different languages and using various dialects with many different words for the same thing. And then the Vikings arrived to add to the mix yet they all need to communicate with each other and this aspect led to English evolving in a unique way.

Like its original tongue, Anglo-Saxon, and other Germanic languages, Old English had male, female and neuter genders in words and was an inflected language, so words changed according to their position, whether a noun was the subject or the object of a sentence, for example. Latin has six singular and six plural versions of a noun, depending on whether it’s the subject or object, if it’s being spoken to directly, or if it possesses something, is over, under or on something else or moving, etc. But in modern English, a table is a table, whatever position it has in a sentence and it has no gender so that’s irrelevant to any adjective used to describe it. If you’ve studied most other European languages based on Latin, such as French, Spanish or Italian, you’ll know how complicated they can be. Likewise, the Germanic languages are equally tricky. Of course, modern English suffers from quirky, awkward spelling and a few irregular verbs, like ‘to be’ which is a nasty one, but the genders and declensions of nouns are gone. Why did Old English lose most of its inflections?

A lot of unpleasantness is often blamed on the Vikings but it’s because of them that English dropped many of its complications. There came a time when half of England was known as the Danelaw when most of the eastern side of England, north of London and the River Thames – both Celtic words, in case you were wondering – was occupied by the Danes with their own language, laws and customs. They were no longer marauding Vikings but – mostly – peaceful, having settled down to farm the land and trade with their neighbours.

But it’s difficult to do business with people you can’t understand and so a new language began to evolve, incorporating both English and Danish words. The grammar of the two didn’t have a lot in common and genders clashed so frequently – whether a cartwheel was masculine, feminine or neuter, did it really matter when you needed yours mended, urgently? – that they were set aside.

Did you know that whether you’re angry with your husband or give him a hug, whether there is a gale blowing or fog outside, if you give a guest you don’t trust a kick on the leg or toss him out the window, you can’t do any of these things without using Old Danish words adopted into English. (Words of Danish origin are underlined.)

The language we call English today is actually a hybrid with thousands of Danish words, along with Latin from the Church, Norman French from William the Conqueror’s gang, Hindi from the time Britain was big in India and a whole assortment of vocabulary from all over the world.     

Sometimes, both the English and Danish words remain in use but take on slightly different meanings, for example, the Old English scyrte is a short, loose garment worn by men and women or as we say ‘shirt’. But Old Danish has skirt to describe the same item of clothing which we now use for the longer lower half of a garment. 

With modern English having evolved from so many other languages and with Hallowe’en coming up

we mustn’t forget ‘ghastly ghosts’ – the ‘gh’ at the beginning of a word coming from Dutch – no wonder our spelling is so weird – OE ‘wyrd’ meaning ‘destiny’, so that’s odd in itself – and sometimes seems plain silly. One of our strangest quirks is ‘gh’ at the end of a word, as in cough [coff], dough [doh], plough [plow], rough [ruff], daughter [dawter], caught [cawt], etc. Originally, this ‘gh’ was a sound like clearing your throat, as in the Scottish loch but what’s a little variety between friends?

So now you’ve heard something about how our language English has come to be, perhaps you can forgive us our illogical spellings and pronunciation because they all made sense once upon a time.

Toni Mount is the best-selling author of several non-fiction history books which concentrate on the ordinary lives of people from history. Her latest book is How To Survive in Anglo-Saxon England

This edition looks at the place that would be called England, after the Romans left and before the Normans arrived. For convenience she has called this Anglo-Saxon England but it was much more complicate than that. It was a turbulent time, with the arrival of invaders from Europe and a new religion to cope with, yet a time of art and music too - a fascinating place to visit if you are given the chance.

This new book on Anglo-Saxons in the third in her series for Pen & Sword Books, the previous two were on the medieval and Tudor periods and a fourth is in the pipeline for next year. Imagine you’ve been transported back in time and you have to start a new life there. How will you fit in? Where will you live? What will you eat? Where will you shop? Who do go to if you get ill, or if you’re mugged in the
street?

All these questions, and many, many more, will be answered in this series of how-to guides for time travellers. Part self-help guide, part survival guide, these books will be written in a lively, engaging and humorous style, helping the reader to deal with the many problems and new experiences that they will face, and also help them to thrive in their new environment

Relationships and Affinity During the Wars of the Roses

by C.F. Dunn 

What do recent politics, a cost of living crisis, and a pandemic have in common with a mid-fifteenth century civil war? 

A failed war in Europe, economic hardship, and a dynastic conflict threw England into political instability contributing to the outbreak of what we now refer to as the Wars of the Roses. Dominating the political landscape of the latter half of the fifteenth century, the struggle for control between the royal houses of York and Lancaster might seem irrelevant to the ordinary man and woman of the period, but there was much more at stake than who wore the crown. In an era of interdependency, no one was immune from the effects of war. 

I have long held an interest in the nature of relationships in medieval society, so much so that my university dissertation had the snazzy title typical of a nascent historian: The Power of Patronage in the 1483 Rebellion. That was a long time ago, but my interest persists and is a major theme in my current historical novels. Understanding the complex connections that bind one person to another - and the forces that can drive seemingly iron-clad relationships apart - are at the heart of what makes society tick. 

Much has been made of the development of feudalism to maintain a semblance of order in the upper echelons of society, but it is perhaps more accurate to say that feudalism was less the cause and more the result of something that was already recognised. The duty of a man to his overlord, or a lord to his king, was a formalised relationship - a contract - that reflected bonds that had long existed throughout society. Whether these were written or merely an understanding, they affected all people in all communities in the form of social and religious ties. This understanding was based upon a common language, faith, and cultural norms that bound communities from birth to death. Changes to those bonds in the shape of aliens (people from other regions, towns or countries) or challenges to the religious conventions from alternative heresies, such as that posed by the Lollards, might rock the accepted foundations, but rarely destabilised them enough to change them.

While feudalism in its original form evolved over the centuries to reflect a changing society, the fundamental aspect of relationships altered little.

It has long been recognised that relationships are tested when put under pressure. Increase that stress and what might have been cracks become fissures out of which monsters - long dormant - emerge. We need look no further than the recent COVID pandemic to witness its lasting effects in the current Ukrainian conflict, economic distress, and political instability. These echo the crises of a previous era: the twentieth century Spanish ’flu outbreak, economic crashes, rise of extremism in Europe and, of course, wars. Turn the clock back 600 years and similar trends become clear: global pandemics (murrain and plague) leading to social and economic turmoil, armed conflicts and political uncertainty. No part of any society exists alone or without feeling the fall-out from natural and man-made disasters.

Relationships based on mutual benefit are at the heart of society and never more so than during the Wars of the Roses when the contract between king and noble broke down. It was already on shaky ground. Henry of Derby (as he was referred to by later ‘chroniclers’) usurped the throne of his cousin - Richard II - becoming Henry IV, the first of what we refer to as the Lancastrian line of Plantagenets. Breaking the bond between king and lord, it sowed the seeds for future discord. Like any family quarrel, grievances festered until Henry IV’s grandson - Henry VI - no longer ruled with authority and rival claims made by his cousins Richard, Duke of York - head of the House of York - and Edmund, Duke of Somerset - representing the ruling House of Lancaster - manifested themselves in open conflict. 

How would this affect the wider community? In some ways it didn’t, the Church continued to prevail over matters of faith, merchants to trade, yeomen to husband the land. From the most elevated in society to the lowliest, marriages continued to be made to the benefit of the families, and contracts agreed for apprenticeships. It helps, however, to take a step back to look at the wider picture. While daily life was much as it had always been, the balance of power shifted, and he who held the reins controlled the granting of offices and positions of authority. The beneficiaries in turn selected men who would offer their service in return for patronage. To a greater or lesser degree, this trickle-down effect affected all regions of the country and all areas of society from church benefices to peat diggers, noblemen to merchants. 

A relationship had to offer mutual benefit to be valid and maintainable. This is the basis of contractual law even today. A contract lays down clear boundaries and affords stability and security. If a contract is broken the relationship fails - whether between two people, a community, a business, or a country - leading to uncertainty, mistrust, and a jostling for position and control.

A lord might have the service of a man, but it was a two-way benefit. The man gained not only the protection of his good lord, but also the reflected honour of association. In a period when status and precedence were keenly observed, the ties that bind were not necessarily those of servitude, but of mutuality.

Not surprisingly, there was a degree of overlap. A contract between one person and another might very well be the formalisation of a pre-existing friendship or acquaintance. The importance of seeing eye-to-eye, of liking someone, was no less valid, and is what drove some to stick with their choice of master no matter the personal consequences. However, self-interest and the desire to protect and promote the interests of the family were powerful drivers in seeking patronage, especially when the stakes were high and backing the wrong political horse might mean the difference between life and death. People were acutely aware of the vicissitudes of life, reflected in the common medieval reference to the Wheel of Fortune - the seemingly random outcome of fate as Fortuna turns her wheel, raising the lowly while casting the greatest down, only for it to turn again and fortunes be reversed. Self-interest, as a result, might lead to serving more than one master, an acceptable practice as long as there was no conflict of interest, although this was a line that could all too easily be crossed.

Relationships formed the web that held society together, but they were ever-changing, relying upon patronage, goodwill, and bonds of kinship and marriage to afford some stability in a fluid situation.

To view the Wars of the Roses as a few self-interested members of the aristocracy jostling for power is to over simplify the importance of personal relationships in maintaining a grounded society. Stability meant a greater degree of certainty in an uncertain world where there was no guarantee of employment, shelter, or food. Individuals were seen in terms of their connections and their actions were often the result of these relationships and the determining factor for decisions they made. Common to humanity, people had desires, fears, and ambition that drove their decisions, but their decisions were as much shaped by their relationships as shaping them.

~~~~~

Author Bio:

Author: C.F Dunn

Website: https://www.cfdunn.co.uk/

Publisher: Resolute Books

Book 1 - Wheel of Fortune

Book Synopsis: The Earl looked dispassionately at the boy still kneeling by his uncle’s body. “He bears his family’s shame; he is nothing.” He turned his back and stood for a moment, contemplating the blank face of the sky. Then he breathed out, a long breath it seemed, held for an eternity. “It is done,” he said. “Justice is served.”

Purchase Link: ttps://mybook.to/WheelofFortune_CFDunn 

Book 2 - Sun Ascendants

Book Synopsis: In this heart-stopping sequel to Wheel of Fortune, Sun Ascendant is the gripping and immersive second book in a major new historical fiction series The Tarnished Crown. Set during the fifteenth-century Wars of the Roses, award-winning novelist CF Dunn continues the story of strong-willed and resolute Isobel Fenton who, pitched into a turbulent world of love, loyalty and treachery, finds herself at the heart of power. 

Purchase Link: https://mybook.to/SunAscendant 

Canterbury Tales Intervention

by Jack Heerema 

I suffer from a heroic mindset, aggravated by the romance of historical fiction.

There is no twelve-step program. There is no cure. My thought processes have become irrelevant. Is the miller telling his tale in Procol Harum’s Whiter Shade of Pale the same miller who is telling his tale in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales? How can this be! I have clung to the desperate hope that the person who borrowed the Venerable Bede’s Ecclesiastical History will return it. I have never admitted to anyone ever that I have a hard bound copy of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and only I know where to locate Einhard’s Life of Carolus Magnus. I went into complete denial.

I had an extreme violent reaction to this denial by writing a historical fiction novel.

The primary pitfall we heroic sufferers face is superimposing our cultural values, beliefs and sensibilities onto the time frame used as the backdrop for our narratives. Author’s such as Patrick O’Brien have avoided this trap. Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales is a welcoming beacon for navigating the culture, sensibilities, beliefs and values of 14th century England. Those writing about the period are offered a Canterbury Tales Intervention by Geoffrey Chaucer.

~~~~~~~~~~~

 Jack Heerema is the author of Marigold, Our Lady of Thieves’.It follows the life and fortunes of a foundling named Marion, who is rescued from a skip by Sir Kai ap Gruffydd who becomes her guardian and mentor. This story reveals how the sword Excalibur was found and how it came into her possession. On the way she is introduced to Robin Hood and the Valkyrie who would become her closest friends. The synopsis and reviews for the novel can be found at www.jackheerema.ca 

Boxley Abbey and its "animated" rood screen...

by Toni Mount

The fully restored Boxley Abbey Barn is clearly visible as you drive by on the M20 and, originally, this wasn’t a barn but the hospitium, not a hospital but the building in which visitors were given hospitality, so more like a hotel.

Photo Credit: Toni Mount

The abbey was founded in the mid-twelfth century but a few decades on, after Archbishop Thomas Becket was martyred in 1170, Boxley became a popular stopping point for pilgrims on their way from London to Canterbury to visit the saint’s shrine. The Abbot of Boxley had played a part in organising Becket’s funeral. In 1480, the time of Seb’s visit, the abbot was John Wormsell.

The abbot and his monks knew there was money to be made from the pilgrims and Boxley exploited the possibilities to the full. Pilgrims could stay overnight and receive food and drink and, in theory, this was free because giving hospitality to those making a journey in the name of God was a Christian virtue. However, donations were strenuously encouraged and for those without money, a day’s manual labour at the abbey would do instead. But Boxley’s monks were ingenious at inventing ways of generating extra income. They sold lead pilgrim badges as souvenirs of Boxley, depicting what long been known as the Rood of Grace.

Every medieval church had a Rood. This was a carved figure of Christ on the cross with the Virgin Mary and St John on either side of the dying Saviour. The Rood was placed high up on the Rood Screen which divided the nave of a church – where the ordinary congregation would be – from the chancel – where the priests conducted the service. The Rood was there to visibly remind everyone why they attended church. But Boxley’s Rood of Grace was no ordinary carving: it was miraculous.

The twelfth-century figure of Christ could turn and nod its head, move its eyes, shed tears, move its lips and speak which, of course, encouraged pilgrims to be even more generous with their donations. Legend said that the wondrous figure had been carved by a poor English carpenter taken prisoner by the French in order to pay his ransom. And how did it get to Boxley? Apparently, a stray horse brought it to the abbey though how the horse crossed the Channel nobody said – it was just an extra piece of the miracle.

And that wasn’t all. The pilgrims were also given the opportunity to demonstrate their personal piety by lifting the little swaddled figure of the infant St Rumbold from his plinth – only the truly pious would succeed.

Later, during the Reformation of the sixteenth century, Protestants denounced the Rood as fraudulent Roman Catholic superstitious nonsense. And it was a fraud as Geoffrey Chamber, Thomas Cromwell’s commissioner, who oversaw the dissolution of Boxley Abbey in 1538, discovered. When the Rood was taken down, its mechanism of levers, rods and wires was revealed: a marvel cleverly constructed by man but not a miracle of God. But when Geoffrey asked the abbot, John Dobbes, and the monks about it, they claimed ignorance, saying they knew nothing of these workings.

Photo Credit: Toni Mount

Ruins of Boxley Abbey’s gateway The Rood was exhibited in Maidstone’s market place the same day, so everyone could know it was a fake, before being taken to London. There, outside St Paul’s Cathedral, the Bishop of Rochester – in whose diocese Boxley Abbey stood – publicly denounced the Rood as a piece of Roman Catholic fakery, designed to deceive the people and persuade them to give money to the monastery and, by extension, to the pope. The Rood was then chopped to pieces before being thrown on a bonfire along with other saintly and so-called ‘miraculous’ relics.

As for little St Rumbold, that was also a scam. Before attempting to lift the statue, a pilgrim had to make a donation. Only if the pilgrim was deemed to have been as generous as his purse allowed did the supervising monk release the bolt holding the statue in place. So the lifting of the saint wasn’t proof of righteousness, only of the monk’s decision that you’d given as much money as you could afford and no less.

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The Colour of Sin by Toni Mount

In today's article, Toni Mount continues her online book tour with an article about Boxley Abbey in Kent. 

In Toni Mount's latest Sebastian Foxley medieval murder mystery, The Colour of Sin, her hero goes on a pilgrimage to Canterbury. The pilgrim band spend a night at the Cistercian monastery at Boxley, just north of Maidstone in Kent, where a few ruins can still be seen today. 

Toni Mount is the author of the award winning "Sebastian Foxley Medieval Murder Mystery Series". You can find out more about Toni on her website http://tonimount.co.uk

The Oaks Mine Christmas Disaster

by David A. Jacinto

December 12th, 1866,  began not unlike most winter days in the village of Hoyle Mill. Two weeks before Christmas, a foggy mist drifted through the valley and gripped the bitterly cold and wet morning. Enthusiasm for Christmas  was running high.  Most men and boys in the village had been putting in overtime at the Oaks Coal Mine south of Barnsley to make a little extra Christmas money. 

That morning, well before dawn,  the coal miners shared a final word over tea and crumpets, bangers and mash, or blood sausage, kissed their wives and mothers goodbye, gave each of the little ones a warm hug, and began the short walk from Hoyle Mill to the Oaks Colliery.

 On the darkened path, they were joined by the other collies, chatting, laughing, and sharing jokes in casual conversation. Passing through the gates and into the Oaks yard, they headed toward the cage to go down the shaft into the mine, just as they did every morning.

One by one, each cage lowered down the telescoping shaft, stopping periodically to deposit miners at various levels. Each disembarking level led into a vast web of interconnecting tunnels, smaller shafts and mining chambers. The last of the miners reached the bottom at a thousand feet below ground, where the cage door was pulled open for the final time. They stepped onto the rough-hewn floor of the landing in the faint light. This brotherhood of miners shared their final morning pleasantries, smiling, laughing, and even singing Christmas songs as they each lit their oil lamps and headed off into the various corners of the mine to dig their own graves where they would spend eternity.        

***

The first trembling upheaval arrived late that clear blue morning. The cruel whip of nature bringing a sudden crack of doom to the quiet tenor of innocence as the blast  fought its way to the surface. 

In his office, Thomas Diamond, the mine superintendent, jerked to attention with the thunderous roar of the explosion. He ran to the window to see a monstrous skyrocket of flames and smoke shoot up in every direction from the main entrance to the mine. Bricks disintegrated into powder. Great ascending clouds of chalk, coal, rock, earth, and debris spouted up into the sky and began to fall back in a “black bloody snow”. The hundred-year-old cage support beams went up like matchsticks in the blaze. It seemed the entire surface of the earth had been torn off, burying four hundred miners in the pit.

The massive tree in the yard had been uprooted, fat tendrils of roots rose up from the ground looking like an upside down tree. The fires pooled and strutted, flowing from structure to tree as smoke chased ash into the sky. The appetite for oxygen was such that leaves and branches were sucked into the flames and flashed their disappearance in an instant.

Mr. Diamond rushed out of his office into the wings of the hot breeze cutting through the cold morning. There was the sound of pandemonium. The smell of smoke and burning flesh. The taste of coal dust. Men yelling. The crackle of burning timbers. Moans of pain and screams of agony. Adrenaline pumping, Diamond leaped into the chaos, ignoring the smoke and flames, seemingly contemptuous of the danger. The main entrance to the mine that was supposed to lay before him was no more. The entire yard was unrecognizable. He had been through mining explosions before, but nothing like this. It looked like a war zone after a daylong cannon raid. 

Driven to a rush of heightened awareness, Diamond seemed to have a clear vision of just what needed to be done. He knew it was important not to lose his head—to take immediate but thoughtful, deliberate action, carefully planning the dangerous rescue of the men still down in the pit. 

With his right hand cupped over his eyes to see through the heavy smoke and debris drifting back to earth, he held a kerchief to his nose. He searched through the smoky haze to commandeer rescuers from the miners who were scurrying in all directions in terror. He called out and the men jumped at his orders, seemingly thankful to have someone take charge and tell them where to go and what to do.

Miners boiled up from the bowels of the mine and toward him, away from the blazing fires of burning colliery timbers. They reeled in shock and confusion, some calling out in agony, some held up by other men, some saying nothing at all. Wherever Diamond looked, torn and broken bodies and injured animals were shaking in the grip of death, while the uninjured tried in vain to comfort the dying. One miner walked toward Diamond, staring dull-eyed at him without a word. It took a moment to register, the man was near naked, his skin burnt grey.

     Over two days the rescue would continue in an attempt to save as many as possible from the firedamp explosions, and following afterdamp asphyxiation. Almost every man and boy from the surrounding villages over the age of ten had been down in that mine. There was not a single family in Hoyle Mill who had not lost someone. Three-hundred and eighty-four men and boys would die, including twenty-six rescuers in a blast on the second day of the rescue attempt. That blast would close down the mine forever, leaving most of the dead buried for eternity. For these miners' families, there would be no more caresses from a husband, kisses from a father, no more “I love you, Mam” from a son, no more childhood memories of a brother.  

The Oak's irresponsible operators and massively wealthy landowners who had not provided proper ventilation or other safety measures recommended by inspectors would not be held liable in any way. They would not even provide enough money to bury the dead, let alone provide for food, rent, or even survival of these destitute families. Thousands of  family members would  be left with no way to even keep warm during their cold winter nights of despair after the disaster.

The 1866 Oaks Mine Christmas disaster that killed 384 men and boys was not the first on this seam of coal. In the previous twenty years there had been over five-hundred other minors who had lost their lives. In 1845, six men and boys lost their lives from a firedamp explosion and afterdamp asphyxiation at the Oaks; in 1847, seventy-three men and boys were killed, again firedamp and afterdamp at the Oaks; in 1849 seventy-five at Darley Main on the same seam; in 1851, twelve more were killed at the Oaks, again for the same reason; in 1851, fifty-two were killed at Warnervale. In 1852, twelve more were killed at the Elsecar colliery, firedamp and afterdamp. In 1857, firedamp and afterdamp killed 189 men and boys on the adjacent Lundhill Colliery, and fifty-nine at Edmonds in 1862. 

These avoidable disasters all along this same seam of coal occurred mostly because of poor ventilation and deplorable safety deficiencies. And yet the operators and fabulously wealthy Landlord were not held liable in any way for these deaths, inciting the miners' families to demand an inquest into the Oaks Christmas disaster. That inquest was held in 1867 and would stir interest all across the United Kingdom, rousing Queen Victoria to push for change in  laws governing coal mining and other industrial revolution operations. The Oaks Christmas Disaster and the fascinating historical events that followed are all covered in a well documented, historical fiction recently released by Simon & Schuster. “Out of the Darkness”, is based on the true story of a nineteenth century child coal miner rising out of the ashes of poverty and tragedy to change the world. It’s a story of poverty, sacrifice, greed, love, faith and the courage to push aside fear and jump into the refiner’s fire where the finest qualities of character are forged. It’s a story of the great sweep of human desire for freedom, liberty, and the pursuit of justice.

 

David A. Jacinto

Author of: Out of The Darkness

The British Women who Flew in World War Two

 The Second World War was the first in which women played a role in aviation. Russian women flew combat missions as bomber and fighter pilots, but in Great Britain and the United States the role of women pilots was supportive rather than direct. Below is a short description of the important role of British women pilots in WWII.

 

In the U.K. women flew with the Air Transport Auxiliary (ATA), which was founded almost immediately after the start of WWII by senior executives of British Overseas Airways Corporation (BOAC) to employ pilots not fit for military service in supporting roles for the RAF and Fleet Air Arm (FAA). Although it became the sole ferrying organization of the British armed forces, it responded flexibly to other requests and also provided air ambulance, VIP transport and cargo service on an ad hoc basis.

From the start, the ATA was an organization dedicated to providing services, not proving a point, and it was open to both men and women. Indeed, throughout its existence, men pilots out-numbered women pilots by a significant margin. For example, the first pilots of the organization were 30 men and 8 women. At its peak in 1944, the ATA employed nearly 700 pilots of which only a little over 100 were women. (Source: The Forgotten Pilots. Lettice Curtis (who was herself an ATA pilot). Appendix 1.) Below the founder Gerard d'Erlanger.

The ATA was established by aviation professionals, and initially only accepted pilots with 500 hours of solo time. By the end of 1940, the needs of the organization were so great that the recruiting requirements were reduced to just 50 hours solo, and by 1942 the first candidates without any flying experience were accepted into the organization’s training program. The latter had started in 1941, when the reduction in flying hours required for application had been instituted. Pilots with just 50 hours solo needed additional training to fulfill the tasks assigned.

Rather than duplicating RAF or airline training, however, the ATA inventively developed a pilot training program designed to train pilots precisely for the tasks required by the ATA in a minimum amount of time. Pilots were first trained only on light, training aircraft and then put to work ferrying these aircraft to RAF training establishments. In doing the work, the pilots were already earning their keep, contributing directly to the war effort (relieving RAF pilots from ferrying), and also gaining flying time, experience and confidence.

                           An ATA pilot in a training aircraft. (Photo courtesy of Michael Fahie)

Once they had fully mastered these aircraft, the ATA pilots (whether men or women) advanced to more powerful single-engine aircraft including fighters, and step-by-step at their own pace to twin-engine aircraft and eventually heavy bombers. At no time were ATA pilots trained on aerobatics, air gunnery, formation flying or other military training irrelevant to ferrying and transport service. Indeed, they were given only minimal training on instrument flying, as ATA pilots were expected to fly “visual.” By keeping the topics of training to the minimum, training time was significantly reduced.

Furthermore, by allowing the pilots to progress at their own pace, no pilots were forced beyond their capabilities. There was no need for all pilots to qualify on all classes of aircraft, a policy that ensured all pilots contributed according to their abilities, reducing accidents and losses. Notably this training scheme was evolved and initially managed by some of the world's finest flying instructors -- instructors that had previously been with the British Overseas Airways Corporation (BOAC).

An British woman pilot in cockpit of a Sterling four-engine bomber (Photo courtesy of Maidenhead Heritage Centre)

In the course of the war, the women with the ATA steadily won the same privileges and status as their male counterparts. They wore the same uniforms, underwent the same training at the same centralized flying school, and performed the same duties as their male colleagues as they qualified successively on the classes of aircraft from training bi-planes to four-engine bombers. From 1943 onwards, they broke ground by being awarded equal pay for equal work at a time when other women's auxiliaries (such as the Women's Auxiliary Air Force (WAAF)) were not. Last but not least, women in the ATA were promoted on merit and could exercise command authority over male colleagues.

Pauline Gower, the Commander of Women in ATA, whose gentle persistence and diplomatic handling of politicians and generals brought about these successes.

Furthermore, throughout the war, the women in the ATA were recognized and praised both officially and publicly for their contribution to the war effort. Five women and 31 male ATA pilots won the MBE. Four women ATA pilots and two male colleagues earned the BEM. One woman Flight Captain received a Commendation alongside five male ATA officers, and two women ATA pilots along with 16 male ATA pilots received the King’s Commendation for Valuable Service in the Air.

Dr. Helena P. Schader is the author of a comparative study of women pilots in the US and UK published by Pen & Sword, Sisters in Arms: The Women who Flew in WWII.  A former ATA pilot is the leading female protagonist in her series of novels on the Berlin Airlift, Bridge to Tomorrow. Find out more about Book I in the series, Cold Peace, here.