The Bones In The Urn

The drama, the tragedy and the thrill of a good colorful story obviously attracts. Villainy can seem far more interesting than honest hard working decency. So can we ever be convinced to relinquish our attraction to myth and propaganda.

The recent discovery of King Richard III’s burial site has renewed so much public interest that many of the old controversies are once again being discussed. Some articles and FB posts are astonishingly antagonistic, even when the writer clearly has never researched the subject at all, let alone seriously studied the few known facts. So why do people still feel so strongly about a historical figure who died more than 500 years ago?

Of course the main accusation against Richard III has always been the assumption that he murdered his nephews, and the discovery of the skeletons of two children under a Tower staircase in the 17th century has often been quoted as virtual proof of this dastardly act.

I should like to try and put a few of these assumptions into perspective.

In 1674 at the Tower of London a group of workmen were employed to demolish a stone staircase attached to the White Tower, and over several days had dug a full ten feet down to the level of the Tower foundations, when they came upon two human skeletons. Seeing little of interest in this discovery, they threw the bones, along with the surrounding rubble, onto the rubbish dump.

When they related these facts afterwards, others realized that this find could be of some importance. Since the skeletons appeared to be of two young people, being neither of fully grown adults nor of small children, someone began to wonder if these could be the remains of the so-called ‘princes in the Tower’ – i.e. the two sons of the late King Edward IV who had seemingly disappeared during the subsequent reign of King Richard III. Sometime later the bones were therefore recovered from the dump. The reigning monarch at the time (Charles II) subsequently ordered the bones entombment in an urn, to be kept in Westminster Abbey. The assumption, given that forensic examination was unknown at that time, was to accept the bones as those of the allegedly murdered ‘princes’.

This was certainly not the first time that human bones had been discovered in and around the Tower. However, not only did these particular skeletons seemingly, judging by size alone, match the ages of the king’s lost boys, but they were discovered under a staircase, and this rang bells with the unfinished story written long before by Sir Thomas More and entitled “The History of King Richard III.”

So those are the simple facts. But a considerable number of myths, misinterpretations and assumptions have gathered around these facts ever since, and the principal one concerns that same unfinished story left by Sir Thomas More.

Neither at the time, nor during the Tudor age following, did anyone else conjecture as to such precise details concerning the boys’ fates – though assumption continued and increased as the blackening of Richard III’s reputation became a political tool of the Tudors. The only reliable account of when they were last sighted (at least by anyone who cared to write of it) appears in a monkish chronicle which indicates they were still resident in the Tower in late August or early September 1483. Yet surprisingly the actual contemporary evidence appears to indicate that little interest was aroused in the vicinity at the time of this disappearance, and Londoners went about their business as usual. Whether the sons of Edward IV then died, were murdered, or were simply smuggled safely away, was guessed at but never proved.

It was not until around 1515 (30 years after the death of Richard III) that Sir Thomas More started to write his ‘history’. Over the years he wrote several versions of this but neither finished nor published any of them. They have survived however, and many researchers have chosen to take them seriously in spite of the anomalies, excessive number of mistakes, and insistence on recording discussions word for word even when the possibility of knowing what had been said was completely non-existent.

Within his pages, More initially records that the fate of the boys remained in doubt. Then later and quite suddenly he offers a detailed scenario of their heinous slaughter. He gives no explanation of how he could possibly know the exact details which he relates, however the story appears to be partially inspired by Polydore Vergil, the man recently employed by Henry VII to write a history of England. More, however, elaborates hugely on Vergil’s account, adding no end of specific extra colour. How (more than 30 years after the fact) he suddenly came by this wealth of gossip is difficult to imagine. Did More chat afterwards with the murderers? Did he talk with the priest, yet decide to confide in no one else even though he then wrote it down for anyone to read? Did he receive information from some other nameless soul, who also chose to disclose these essential facts to no one else? More, however, now confidently tells us that after their violent deaths the two sons of Edward IV were secretly buried at the foot of a staircase in the Tower of London. He then goes on to explain that Richard III (who had ordered the murders) objected to such an improper burial and ordered a priest to dig up the corpses and rebury them in another more suitable (but unnamed) place, and that this was promptly done.


So the burial under a stairwell is certainly mentioned. Yet according to More, (the only one ever to mention burial under a staircase at all) that is NOT where the two bodies were finally left. He specifically says they were moved to a secret place more appropriate to their station. And here the secret supposedly remained – no longer under a staircase at all.

Yet the actual ‘bones in the urn’ were originally found under a stone stair attached to the exterior of the White Tower (known as the Keep). Apart from the contradiction within More’s story, such a rigorous endeavour is difficult to accept as this area was the access point to the only entrance, and would certainly have been one of the busiest parts of the Tower. Anyone digging there would have been clearly visible. So we are asked to accept that a couple of amazingly determined murderers managed between them to dig 10 foot under solid stone, avoiding all passing gentry including the guards, and to deposit there two suspicious bundles – all while the ‘princes’’ staff raised no alarm nor even blinked in curiosity. And the subsequent solitary priest somehow dug them up again? As the night quickly passed, was he, in absolute secrecy, able to dig 10 foot under stone to rebury the boys’ remains? And if so, in accordance with More’s little book – why were they still found under the staircase?

At that time hundreds of busy people, many with their entire families, lived and worked in the Tower. This was no dreadful place of isolated dungeons and cold haunted corners. It was a royal palace with grand apartments and a number of council chambers, beautiful gardens complete with gardeners, clerks and administrators, a menagerie and its keepers, the Royal Mint and all its wealth of workers, a whole garrison of guards, kitchens, cooks, scullions and cleaners. How a pair of strange and suspicious ruffians could have dug such a deep secret grave in one night completely unnoticed by anyone is frankly an impossible situation. Even at night the Tower really was a hive of industry and activity, and the ‘princes’ themselves had servants day and night. They were not under arrest and nor were they locked in the dungeons – they lived together in a comfortable apartment and more than 14 personal staff were paid to look after them. Yet we are asked to believe that their murder was magically accomplished without anyone at all knowing how, who, or even exactly when.

But let us leave that puzzle and return to the urn. It rested undisturbed in the Abbey for many years, but in 1933 it was decided to open it and discover just what was inside.

The complete description of the contents is on record of course, and the boy’s remains were immediately examined by experts of the time.

Apart from the human remains, there were a number of animal bones – clearly all collected together from the rubbish pit. There were, however, no textiles of any kind. So please – let’s forget that other silly myth of the scraps of expensive velvet. Yes – hundreds of years ago an anonymous scribble in a margin evidently mentioned velvet – but no such thing is mentioned elsewhere, no such thing has survived in any form, and the anonymous scribble has also disappeared – if it ever existed in the first place. So no velvet. Another red herring.

I have also read that a dark stain which ‘could’ be blood, was found on one skull. After 200 years underground we are asked to accept an anonymous stain as an indication of violent murder??? And when this same skull had been left for some time rolling around with fresh animal remains from the butchers? Indeed, those who mentioned the possibility of the stain being blood, later entirely retracted their statement, although this important development is often overlooked. So please! Another ludicrous exaggerated myth.

Now the more important evidence – the scientific examination. Oh – but, wait a moment. This was 1933 and science has moved a long, long way since then. No DNA examination was possible back then. Carbon dating was not employed – too suspect, especially with bones that had been so contaminated for so long. Their antiquity could not therefore be established, so simple assumptions were made – which have been seriously questioned since. The age of the children when they died is also extremely open to opinion. There is absolutely no possibility of sexing these bones. They could have been girls and this remains perfectly likely. At the time a conclusion was made that the two children had been related (this from an examination of the teeth and not from DNA) which has now been shown as probably erroneous. Historians and orthopaedic experts are divided. Some still maintain that these remains ‘could’ be the sons of Edward IV, while others point out the inconsistencies and inaccuracies. There really is no consensus of specialist opinion. The arguments have occasionally become quite heated and no confirmed or complete conclusion has been reached. And there are other anomalies.

For instance, it has been shown that the lower jaw bone of the elder child indicates the presence of a serious bone disease. This would have been both painful and visible. Yet the young Edward V is documented as having been fit, active, prepared for coronation, and described as 'good looking'. No record is shown of any such existing disease which would have seriously undermined his future life and reign.

There’s another red herring here. Doctor Argentine, the elder prince’s long-standing physician, related that, “the young king, like a victim prepared for sacrifice, sought remission of his sins by daily confession and penance, because he believed death was facing him.”

But Dr. Argentine did not visit his charge because of ailing health. All junior royalty were under the permanent care of doctors who were responsible for their day to day health. A doctor’s appearance here was a consistent matter of course, and would have been ever since birth. And the prince’s recorded statement, apart from being second-hand hearsay, is extremely ambiguous. I doubt he was cheerful at the time, poor boy – with his status in doubt, and his expected coronation suddenly delayed. He may well have expected (and been warned by his dour and pessimistic Lancastrian and Woodville guardians) a bitter end. This does not mean it actually occurred.

So these are the basic facts, and as anyone can see, they do not point specifically in any direction. They prove nothing, not even circumstantially, and any assumption that the bones in the urn are almost certainly those of the two lost boys of Edward IV is absolutely unjustified. Until permission is finally given (many have asked and always been denied) for the urn to be opened once more and the contents subjected to up-to-date forensic examination, we cannot know anything at all. So far the very sketchy facts seem to point towards the bones dating from Norman, or even from Roman times, and at least some experts strongly suggest that the elder is female.

Those interested authors of articles claiming these bones are definitely those of the lost boys, are either fooling themselves or attempting to fool their readers.

Should the bones eventually be examined and proved by DNA matching to be the ‘princes’ after all – we may with our present level of technology discover roughly when they died (to the nearest 50 years). We may perhaps also ascertain the causes of their deaths, but unless there are signs of injury it is unlikely we will learn whether they were killed – still less who killed them.

If, on the other hand, as seems most likely, they are proved NOT to be the ‘princes’ it will settle a long-standing controversy, and provide some very interesting material for archaeological study. In particular it will silence some of the more exaggerated and erroneous myths.

There remains the bigger question – WHAT exactly happened to Edward IV’s sons, and on whose orders? Well that is quite another problem – and there is as yet no answer to that either.

Editing, Polishing, and Sex

My new book, the historical adventure SUMERFORD’S AUTUMN is now finally with the publishers, and as finished as I can make it. It is just like kissing goodnight to a huge and important part of myself.

It is amazing how many stages a book can go through. Of course, different authors have different criteria, and some love rewriting whereas others avoid it. Many years ago I was amazed to hear from C.S. Lewis that he had never attempted any rewriting at all on his childrens Narnia saga. He had simply written each book and promptly sent it straight off to the publisher without even checking back over the manuscript first. Whether this is incredibly admirable, or frankly insane – I am not too sure.

However most authors, both the successful and the brand-new and vulnerable, do rewrite and often several times.  I actually have a passion for it. I re-write over and over, perfecting every detail and in particular the flow of the prose. In fact, I cannot bear to read my own work without the added treat of altering as I go along. Then, once it’s finally finished to my complete satisfaction, I put my book away (tucked into a nice folder on the computer) and start something new. I then return to my tucked away manuscript some months later – untuck it – and begin to rewrite yet again, hopefully with a newly more objective attitude.

But even for those keen to rewrite, the final editing process can seem tiresome and sometimes daunting. I have certain kind and patient friends who are experts on the historical period which serves as a background to almost all my books – and they have been kind enough to edit my manuscripts – showing me the occasional faults of typo or grammar – and in particular any inadvertent historical inaccuracies.  Being reasonably expert on the historical period myself, and being an avid researcher, the alterations are usually few, but I am tremendously grateful for this type of editing advice and I happily work though each of my books, altering anything which has been pointed out. I learn as I go and enjoy every minute. It is rather like brushing my children’s hair, or cutting their finger nails. In other words – a chore, but a loving one – and I am delighted to think that in this way I am improving my beloved child’s appearance. Then I can stand back with pride, hope and anticipation.

On the other hand, what I find far, far harder is the editing process when the advice comes from a total stranger, but is the final touch and tweak required by the publisher before the copy goes off to the printers. This is the process I have actually just finished and I was extremely grateful that very few changes had been asked for.

Being asked to make small alterations purely and solely in accordance with someone else’s taste is quite challenging. One can even be asked to cut something that seems entirely essential, or change something that originally seemed perfect the way it was. So you have to try and be objective and put yourself in the position of a reader – instead of a writer. There’s the big challenge.

The writer inevitably has a very different outlook to the reader, and to the professional reader in particular.  The writer is already inside the characters, living within the plot, and looking across the landscape while standing firmly upon it. This is a largely emotional and extremely subjective attitude.  We writers have given birth – and oh my, those labour pains and birth pangs are extremely painful. So the child that is eventually born becomes a precious and adored infant, and a stranger’s criticism or requests for change (what do you mean, my darling baby is too fat? Too thin? Too dark? Too blonde?) can seem both hurtful, and unacceptable. 

The reader, however, is a stranger looking on from a totally separate and objective position. His/her requirements are not the same. And of course, most writers do (whether they know it or admit it or otherwise) write for themselves. To make that essential step back and remove ourselves from the picture – to attempt an entirely objective view of our own work – well that’s much harder than you might suppose. We might want to make a little money, and so we might accept that there must be commercial considerations – but the love of our story comes first. To the publisher and his professional editor, the priority is simply commercial success.

The two views often coincide with a little tolerance and compromise on both sides. Luckily my editor asked for very few changes at all – and the content of my contract with the publisher made it clear that any changes I made were entirely up to me. The editor could only suggest, and never insist. My decision was final. I liked that. But I felt that a professional and objective view was to be taken seriously, so I tried to comply with whatever had been suggested. A few times I had to take a deep breath, but most of it was easy.

Many writers however, even those whose work has already achieved some success in the past, are sometimes faced with far greater editing challenges. The one I hear complained of most often concerns – quite simply – demands for sex. Now I have no objections whatsoever to sexual content in a book if it is well written – and most importantly – comes as a natural part of the story. Where explicit sexual passages are introduced unnecessarily and clearly only in order to titillate – then there you can invariably see the hand of the publisher. Publishers, eager to increase the commercial possibilities, do often demand their authors introduce large chunks of sex whether it fits or not. 

Although I am perfectly content both reading and writing of sex, and consider this a natural part of today’s romantic stories, I do also remember with joy the novels of the past where romance could scintillate, yet no actual sex was ever described even in passing. Pride and Prejudice – that perennial favourite – is the most obvious example. Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights were both broodingly sexual, and yet never contained anything even remotely explicit. Coming forward in time we discover the queen of romance Georgette Heyer, and the queen of historical fiction Dorothy Dunnett. No sex here, although Dunnett included just a little, yet never explicit. But the arousal quota was pretty high with both.

This is no contradiction since I have no objections to well written and relevant sex scenes in books (and films) – but I certainly would not ever criticise any beautifully written book entirely devoid of sexual content. Both depend on quality. After all, going back to the more distant past, fiction was often more overtly sexual (Chaucer amongst others, the highly amusing Boccaccio, and the flagrant innuendo of Shakespeare) since medieval standards, in spite of the disapproval of the church, were considerably more earthy than they became after the birth of the puritan age in the early 1600s. 

But must sex now always be included in order to be commercially acceptable? I would be saddened if a publisher ordered me to increase the sexual content of a book beyond the level of my own taste. I do not write exclusively romantic novels, so perhaps I am safe. Or perhaps not? Will the success of recently more sexually explicit novels now up the demand?

Of course it’s not just sex, and publishers can ask for other major alterations too. To increase the strength of the heroine’s character and attitude is a popular one nowadays. ‘Feisty’ is today’s trendy description. Publishers claim that female readers only want heroines who defend themselves with vigour and are never meek, mild or obedient. Yet a well written character can be full of courage and extremely interesting without coming over as a very modern young woman with very modern attitudes. After all, women of other eras were not brought up in the same manner as girls today – and some historical fiction which presents the heroine as independent, defensive, argumentative and insisting on equality, just makes no sense. Yes, the reader wants to like the heroine, but hopefully readers also want characters to be believable and varied. 

The author may know this. The publisher has different considerations – and historical accuracy is not often one of them. I have known authors to collapse in tears at the demands made of them. I am lucky. My publisher (Simon & Schuster) has behaved wonderfully and made no such demands. But what of those that do? Shall we comply – eager to do whatever will get us published? Do we accept that the publisher – with all their experience – must know best? Or do we stick to our instincts, have the pride of our own beliefs, and deny the requests made of us? And therefore, perhaps, risk isolated anonymity for ever and ever? I have no answer to any of these questions and I condemn neither attitude – but in an age where economic demands rule all company policy, it must be a terrible thing to decide. The world of publishing is also changing fast, and everything is getting harder. Perhaps we should simply be more sympathetic when reading a book where some particular aspect (especially sex) seems to arrive abruptly and without any integral need – it may not be the author’s fault at all.

BG Denvil

Time Travel - I Wish!

No – sorry – it hasn’t been invented yet. I only wish it had. For me, as a passionate researcher and writer of historical novels, I could imagine absolutely nothing more exciting. Time travel is my ultimate dream.

Of course, some element of control would be necessary. It would be all too frustrating to be yearning for medieval exploration, only to find oneself in the middle of the Australian outback facing gigantic monitor lizards with huge appetites. Whereas the eager palaeontologist dreaming of meeting the extinct creatures of forgotten worlds, could discover himself wandering my beautiful medieval cobbled streets, staring with melancholy at the surge of the Thames beneath London Bridge while wishing desperately to come face to face with some sweet placid Tyrannosaurus Rex instead.

And even supposing I could control the time itself, I would also need some element of control over place of arrival and my own appearance. There is, for instance, a good deal I long to know about Richard III. So I need to fiddle with the control buttons on my Tardis, manipulate the settings back to 1483, arranging to land in one of those apposite spots within London (The Tower, Baynards Castle, or beyond the London Wall in Westminster Palace) – but only perhaps to find myself thrown bodily from the premises because I’m dressed indecently in modern clothes (yes, that would give them all a shock, I would be considered either a hussy of the worst kind or a dangerous lunatic) – or I could be handed a mop and bucket and told to get scrubbing. So I must insist on the right clothes, the right bearing, and the right place.

I want to be dressed as a minor noblewoman – the sort of gown I personally would adore. I can just imagine those amazing medieval materials which I would just love to touch. No artificial silks, no nylon velvets, no plastic or polypropylene, but the real thing – hand woven and sumptuous with gold thread and damask shot with indigo. Woad and lapis, madder and kermes, cinnabar and azurite. Bliaut and baukerkin – fabrics so lustrous I would fear to touch them. 

Some clever and adventurous modern-day souls do make an eager hobby of sewing up very accurate copies of medieval clothes, and they research assiduously, getting every detail as perfect as possible. But we don’t know enough to be sure of everything, and some aspects of clothing are still entirely mysterious. Besides, the main difficulty is the fabric. Those sumptuous materials of the past do not and cannot possibly exist anymore.

Yet I cannot appear so richly dressed that I arouse curiosity or even suspicion.  A woman appearing as a lady so grand that everyone should immediately recognise her and know her name and title already (nobility was a small world and most were loosely related to each other)  – and yet be entirely unrecognisable – would be suspicious indeed. There were laws about dressing within one’s station, and false pretence would hardly be the best way to start up friendships.  But I cannot be a serving woman either, for I have no desire to be punished for not getting on with my work, and even a vague attempt to clean up somewhere would completely confuse me. I would not know where to collect the required soaps and cloths – nor even how to do such things in the proper medieval way. Besides, I desperately want to find out exactly what was going on with the high and mighty of the period – and I can’t do that if I’m locked out of state rooms and sent to the laundries. I might still get the local unsubstantiated gossip – but gracious – that’s exactly what we get already. Most of what we now call history is little more than old gossip!

So – we have that sorted. A minor noblewoman, please. But there’s a lot more I need to control. The principal aim of my first time travel is to have a good close look at Richard III, and if possible to get some detailed knowledge of exactly what he did, what he didn’t do, and how he was viewed by others. Of course like all passionate writers of historical fiction, and one who believes firmly in research and basing fiction on truth, I already have a firm idea of what England’s most controversial king was like and how he behaved. But I could be wrong. I accept that. And whether I am right or wrong, I want to understand what this fascinating man really accomplished, and why. But as a woman, can I do that? Women were not admitted into council chambers or meetings of parliament. I might sneak into some places, but I would need some sort of respectable companion, or preferably a full retinue.

So it’s getting more complicated. Perhaps I need to stop and think. And while I’m at it I need to beware of draughts, since women wore no knickers. Yet they had to keep their hair respectably covered. Frankly, I’m used to the other way around. 

Perhaps a different period of history would be easier. I’m eager to see every century, glimpse every fascinating character  and witness every intrigue. Not that I want to witness executions or battles, since I have a good enough imagination without being there on the vile and bloody scene. I’d probably be extremely sick, and that would certainly spoil my anonymity.

But to meet Shakespeare – oh, that would be utterly glorious – to speak to him, and to see what he was really like. Then, less glorious but almost as interesting, there’s Henry VIII,  and the chance to discover whether he really was entirely unpleasant, cruel and dangerous as I imagine he was. And what about Anne Boleyn, Elizabeth I, Cromwell, Cecil and Walsingham? Then I could go back further, for I am curious about King Richard II and those thoroughly rigid and unbending kings Henry IV and V who took his throne.

Charles II would probably be more approachable. Any young and attractive looking female (yes, I’d have to make sure the Tardis arranged that too since I’m afraid even Charlie the promiscuous wouldn’t  look twice at me as I am) seemed fairly able to get close to that particular monarch. Actually it’s one of his more glorious courtiers, the sublimely talented and fascinating Earl of Rochester, who interests me more. And I know full well that an attractive female could get close to him too, and without much difficulty at all. Now wouldn’t that be fun! I could become a time-travel groupie.

Then there’s the distant but exotic past of other countries. I would adore to get a look at the much maligned Emperor Nero, maybe Spartacus, and certainly Genghis Khan. The Medicis were such amazing characters, De Vinci, the illusive Caravaggio, certainly Machiavelli, and there were some very exotic and dubious popes too.

I have my historical favourites, though the list is so long it would take me a lifetime of time-travel to meet them all. I also have historical characters I dislike very much – but since I believe in keeping an open mind where possible, perhaps it would be more to the point to discover what I could about the so-called villains. And that, of course, would include most of the Tudors. They have a lot of fans, those mad, bad larger than life Tudor personalities – and I can understand why, even though I don’t share the admiration. After all, it was such a colourful period of time, and everything sounds so dramatic.

I have other pet-hates. William the Conqueror, for instance. Now that’s a man who makes Henry VIII sound like a congenial hampster. And there’s Napoleon, who sounds like megalomania on speed. I suppose I could even get very adventurous and attempt to meet up (carefully from the shadows, with both my camera and my pistol at the ready of course) with Jack the Ripper, and discover who he really was.

Time travel is the ultimate dream, because history is made up of riddles, mysteries and endless questions. The documentation remaining to us is often limited, sometimes non-existent, and at the best, is written with the bias of the existing political imperative. There is everything to discover, and nothing to take for granted.

But in the end it is often the tiny things that fascinate me the most. The smell of the cities, and the bustle of the markets, the taste of the food and the touch of the old stone and plaster, the language of the past, the howling of wolves and the tolling of the bells. That’s what I want time travel for. I want to genuinely experience the absolute inside truth of what I imagine and write about every day.

So is there anyone else out there who has time travel all worked out yet? Where would you go first?

BG Denvil 

Sex, Romance, and Medieval Misinformation Part 3: Sexuality

Naturally the probable majority of the priesthood were genuine in their beliefs, and amongst the general population there were of course the sincerely religious, the decent and respectable, the humble and morally inclined.  Church attendance was considered normal practice, fasts were properly kept (and were supposed to include sexual abstinence), bibles (strictly in Latin) were hugely expensive but still much sought after, deep religious belief was admired and regular prayer was part of any child’s upbringing. Atheism was considered far more shocking than murder, for this was heresy and punishable by burning. 

(That principally female business of witchcraft, by the way, was not considered heresy until many years later under Tudor rule in 1542, and – contrary to popular modern belief – not one person – male or female – accused of being a witch was ever burned alive in England. Heretics were. During the 1400s, witchcraft – unless it supposedly had led to other crimes – was largely overlooked.) 

But none of this made England’s citizens into a perfect society, and it certainly did not squash the public’s natural desires. 

Sermons on the subject do show how some sexual extremes (even a few which still seem quite shocking to us), were common enough then – including amongst others lesbianism, sodomy, bestiality, home-made dildos, pornography, incest and oral sex. Sexual desire was as varied then as ever, as much practised then as ever, and as imaginatively appreciated by both men and women. And the church, however much it complained, clearly did not diminish carnal appetites.

So many of our present misconceptions of the late medieval should be adjusted and changed. Women were not absolutely denigrated nor entirely subjugated. Nor were vast numbers of highborn ‘pawns’ brutally forced to marry against their will. On the other hand, nor were young women generally inclined towards modern concepts of rebellion and impudence. The church did not thoroughly control public behaviour, nor manage to stamp out the sexual passions of their congregations. Hypocrisy was rife, sin was common, and human nature was – well – thoroughly human.

Strangely enough, it sounds just like most countries today. The differences were often surface – for instance a woman’s arms were considered extremely erotic and in public she always wore sleeves to her wrists, often much embellished. Nudity, however, (in the right place of course) was not that shocking at all. Specialist nightclothes did not yet exist and both sexes usually went to bed naked (or wore their under-garments to keep warm). Since a married woman wore a headdress most of her life, it was not unknown for her to accept her husband’s embraces in bed wearing nothing but her hat! (A headdress, not a modern hat of course!). And a woman did not wear knickers. She wore a shift (or chemise) and gartered stockings – but no pants. Presumably menstrual ‘pads’ were homemade and reusable  once washed, and fashioned of rags looped around knotted waist-bands. This continued for centuries, and the bra and bloomers are comparatively recent inventions.  

So women had a considerably louder voice than some authors give them credit for, and independence, intelligence and admirable opinion was most certainly also the province of medieval womankind. Romance, in spite of the practicalities of arranged marriage, was certainly not unknown or unwanted, and the hatred, suspicion and fear of femininity sometimes expressed by the priesthood, was certainly not echoed by the general population. Puritanism had not yet been thought of, and the desire for power, pleasure and sexual lust was as human then as it is now.

One of the most pleasant and intriguing discoveries for me, was finding out that, unlike some other periods of British history, medieval women were expected to enjoy sexual union – though preferably only in the marital bed. The church insisted that conjugal rights existed only for the conception of children, but society said otherwise. Many (mostly quite ineffectual) recipes for contraception abounded, in theory helping a woman to participate in physical love without the constant fear of pregnancy.  And whereas men have always been expected to relish sexual dalliance, the medieval woman was understood to have the same bodily desires, and the same capacity to enjoy them. 

What is most obvious is that whatever the times, people have always been individual and humanity frequently refuses to conform.  Times change, but not everything does!

Sex, Romance, and Medieval Misinformation Part 2: The Role of Women

The English mid to late medieval was a period when romance was idealised with the advancement of chivalry (in theory anyway), and a somewhat more delicate manner in which most women were treated, especially in courtly circles. 

It has been suggested that the introduction of chivalry actually invented the whole concept of courtly love. Many suppose that the troubadours inspired a whole new attitude to desire which had not previously existed. I find this exceedingly unlikely. Humanity – even the dour English – surely did not need a sudden influx of poetry in order to discover what idealised romantic yearning felt like! Clearly the stories and songs of chivalry were largely a reaction to whatever already existed. However, the minstrels no doubt fired up some new romantic ideals and gave eloquence to what had earlier seemed more mundane. 

Chivalry – to some extent – stuck! Women (until Henry VIII, who was chivalry in reverse even though he seemingly loved the joust) were not usually executed, whatever they had done, and were generally treated more kindly than their masculine counterparts. This might also seem patronising – but beware imagining they were all automatically treated with contempt. 

The popular vision of any strong woman of the times being called a She-Wolf is somewhat misleading. A strong and capable women was usually admired, and meek little ‘pawns’ were not the ideal. Wifely obedience – well that was perhaps more common then than now, but don’t tell me every wife constantly obeyed her husband, and the insults of argumentative nag were just as common. True – married women of that period owned little or nothing since all their property legally belonged to their husbands – in fact I remember some aspects of this still being enforced in the 1950s when my husband seemed to think he owned my tax rebate. 

However, back in the 1400s women did have a voice. I have so frequently read books or articles that see the female of the past as being voiceless and utterly overlooked. It is true that we have little existing documentation regarding how they felt or reacted to the turmoil around them – but nor do we have much documentation of any other kind. Men’s opinions were rarely recorded and even kings’ private feelings were kept very much to themselves. The documentation which still exists is invariably ecclesiastical in origin since monks and priests were the scribes and the record keepers of the time. So a woman’s opinion was rarely passed down to us. That does not mean it was not made clear at the time.

Women joined the Guilds, created and carried on their own businesses, studied and read widely, and in their husband’s absence (and in his company) took over the defence of their homes under siege, arranged armaments, secured trade, and enlarged the family’s security, influence and interests. The abbess of a convent could be an extremely powerful woman, while a back-lane brewer, although not exactly powerful on a national scale, could earn an excellent wage, run her own business, and become a woman in demand, much respected and admired. 

Some strong women were certainly disliked for their actions and attitudes, but so were many strong men. It was legal for a man to beat his wife should he believe she deserved punishment, and naturally that is abhorrent to us. But it is quite clear that good men did no such thing, brutality was considered unacceptable, and few women obediently accepted marital attack. Besides, marital abuse is certainly not legal now – but it equally certainly exists.

 Male and female were not equal of course, but nor were the inequalities as huge as some would like to have us believe.

The medieval period in England (I am particularly interested in the late 1400s) was not a time of puritanism. Sexual pleasure was sometimes considered by doctors to be a cure for particular ailments, and this applied to women as well as men. Although the church tried its level best to set strict moral standards, and after all the church of the time was a good deal more powerful than it is today, the general public did not behave and obey as meekly as it might sometimes be presumed.  Sex was not generally thought shocking, kings and lords openly kept mistresses (and certainly ordinary folk as well) and illegitimate children, although they could not legally inherit, were treated with normal respect and courtesy while the word ‘bastard’ was no particular insult.  Brothels were legal as long as they conformed to certain standards. The illegal sort were pretty common too. 

It was the church, and the frustrations of a priesthood obliged to commit themselves to celibacy which has left us a record of indignation towards women in general. Their diatribes, sermons, legal strictures and basic beliefs  comprise the vast majority of surviving written documentation. A horror of womankind and the temptations of sexual attraction led many of the clergy to denigrate femininity. They blamed women for the temptations they felt themselves, and so have left us with a deluge of disgust regarding female anatomy and behaviour. But we should definitely not assume that men in general felt the same way.

Religious restrictions on sexual practise were rigorous, but how many people readily obeyed these demands can only be guessed at. The general public had a very clear example of clerical hypocrisy to follow.

Some brothels were accustomed to a clientele where up to a third of all their customers were priests, monks and bishops. The so-called Winchester geese, who were the prostitutes of Southwark (south of London) paid rent to the Bishop of Winchester, in an area where Molly Houses (brothels where the prostitutes were young boys) also abounded, and where the taverns, slums and thieves’ gatherings were amongst the worst in the land. So the idea that the church preached one thing and practised another was fairly widely accepted. A general condemnation of adultery, fornication and sexual deviations was certainly demanded by the clergy – but just as certainly not always heeded. The very fact that priests and friars complained so frequently about immorality does not show how placidly controlled the public was. It shows the exact opposite. 

The clergy bellowed about sin, then went off to sin privately themselves, bellowing again when they saw their neighbours doing the same thing. Errant priests were known to be put into the stocks and pelted with rotten eggs by their flock. Pregnant nuns were a great subject for gossip. 

Within this confusion, some strange advice was given by the church regarding sin and sex. A good deal of anatomical and medicinal ignorance was the main reason. One piece of moral advice offered by priests which I find particularly delicious, was that a woman could calm her blatant but improper sexual desires by drinking the man’s urine. I can well understand how this might put her off. But unless she had already crept into his bedchamber to discover his chamber-pot and directly quench her thirst that way, I just cannot imagine her approaching the man of her passionate dreams, and demanding a nice cup of his urine the next time he went to the privy. I would love to see his expression.

Part Three, the final part, to follow.

Sex, Romance, and Medieval Misinformation Part 1

Sex, romance, love and marriage – these are the themes we seem obsessed with. They dominate our popular music, most films, and the vast majority of our books. Yet we cannot always agree with each other even on such universal subjects, so it is normal to presume that in the past folk were as individual in their wishes and beliefs as we are now.

It is therefore a continuing problem for authors of historical fiction since there is considerable argument over how sex and romance were viewed in centuries past, in particular regarding the place of women.

Now the recent 50 Shades of Grey has been such a bestseller, the question of how much sexual content a book should (could) contain, and how graphic the text should (could) be, has become even more problematical. How do we approach the new standards? Yet are they so new? We appear to forget that several decades ago the sexual content in films and television in many European countries was often far more provocative than today. In other words, a so-called sexual revolution has occurred on many, many occasions over the years.  

Of course human desire has always been a part of human nature, but how we behave is invariably coloured more by the society in which we live. It is exceedingly difficult to judge the attitudes of our ancestors as regards culture and society unless clear contemporary documentation still exists. Luckily some does. 

For instance, artists of the Renaissance brought a new perspective, and the previous religious monopoly was no longer the master of the arts. Nudity was unashamedly depicted. At the same time in England, however, massive new Tudor taxes began to undermine the tentative prosperity of the increasing middle and working classes, and women in particular began to lose much of their previous independence.  

Moving onwards through history, Restoration theater and literature was, for instance, clearly unabashed. Women could appear publicly as actresses on the stage for the first time, but most were also prostitutes on the side. Has anyone read the beautiful but frequently pornographic poetry of John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, who wrote during the late 1600s? Obviously sexual liberty, in particular at court, was fully accepted even though rigid standards applied elsewhere. It appears that for many the Puritan attitudes immediately preceding this period had a thoroughly contradictory affect. Rather like the American Prohibition, it served to increase the public taste for whatever had been banned. I believe this is precisely how human nature so often works, and has worked constantly over the centuries.

Following the horrors of WW1, the flappers of England in the 1920s startled conventional society, and another sexual revolution was born. It happened again in the 1960s following the deprivations of post-war rationing, when it was humorously suggested that sexual intercourse was virtually invented. Free love was the motto, public nudity was promoted by some and accepted by many, and an abhorrence of prim conservatism seemed normal especially amongst the carefully non-conformist youth.

Certainly we accept more now than we imagine was normal in the Victorian era – but are we even sure about that? We are told that Queen Victoria was not amused (although this is entirely apocryphal) and pianos had to wear skirts to hide their legs, while certainly my respectable grandmother would never have mentioned anything more shocking than a vague reference to birth pangs. But the slums of London were rife with drunkenness and prostitution, and the literary giants of the times were indulging – and writing about – practises which the good secluded ladies of the era would not even have understood. The birth of the Gothic novel may not have contained explicit sexual language, but a brooding undercurrent of lust was certainly guiding the plot. 

With regard to the late medieval period which serves as the background to most of my novels, there seems to be some considerable modern misunderstand concerning that period’s attitudes to sex and romance. Our historical fiction tends to swing between extremes – either the heroine is presented as a feisty modern miss who rebels against her father’s insistence on an arranged marriage – or she is a ‘pawn’, reluctantly forced into dreadful situations by an ambitious father, leaving her powerless even to complain.

Frankly I am quite sure both these extremes are exceedingly misleading. Women, especially those of aristocratic families, were often strong-minded, determined and ambitious. And not all marriages were loveless by any means, whether arranged or otherwise many developed into deep love and friendship, and both men and women (of various classes) were frequently married to the partner of their choice. Depending on class and financial status, parental pressure was not normally tyrannical and most young women were at least consulted on their choice of bridegroom. In particular, widows and widowers usually had free choice. But yes, marriage was a practical business and arrangements were generally accepted and also welcomed. 

These invariably benefited both parties and the poor little pawn in the hands of the cruel and ambitious father was far more likely to be a well satisfied miss, extremely pleased to find herself betrothed to a man of influence and wealth. The woman came with a dowry, but that did not make her a chattel, and the extent of her dowry could also be considered her power. Even the poorer classes frequently made such arrangements, and so a woman brought her share to enhance the marital prosperity. It was not considered humiliating – it was good business. And after all, the young man was equally expected to conform to his parents’ plans – but no one seems to call him a pawn. 

However as usual society covered all shades and some prospective brides did complain – and were forced. Some unwelcome male suitors could also be chastised. There were famous instances of just those situations (Abelard and Eloise, for example). Even those who did not outwardly object did still dream of some more romantic situation in private. We know this from the extreme contemporary popularity of romantic books and stories. There is nothing unexpected in this. Happily married women who love their husbands still read romantic novels and secretly fall for fictional heroes and celebrities, while India, a culture of arranged marriage, proudly presents us with the ultra-romance of Bollywood.

But sex is a rather complicated subject – and the woman’s place is just as varied. So – PART TWO to follow!

The Next Big Thing

The next big thing is a new idea which links readers to the blogs of different authors  - a sort of ‘blog hop’, or chain letter – where one blog will link to the next as one author tags another.

I am delighted to have been introduced by a writer I much admire –  Brian Wainwright http://brianwainwright.blogspot.com.au/  whose two historical novels, THE ADVENTURES OF ALIANORE AUDLEY, (a deliciously funny yet absolutely historically accurate spoof of life in the English 15^th century) – and WITHIN THE FETTERLOCK, (a large and beautifully written leap into the life and times of Constance of York, starting in 1390), – are amongst my absolute favourites and which I would thoroughly recommend. Brain might be described as a man with multiple personality disorder since one book is pure hilarity, and the other is divinely serious – but both lead you by the hand into the rich atmosphere of England’s vivid and dangerous past.

As for my own work, I have just finished my new novel – BLESSOP’S WIFE – and have been asked the following questions 
regarding this:

What is the working title of your next book? 
BLESSOP’S WIFE. That’s not going to be changed now.

Where did the idea come from for this book?  
My love of the era – late 15^th century England – and the intriguing rumour that King Edward IV might have been poisoned.  His sudden death changed history in extraordinary ways, and I wanted a hero who could investigate the situation. Spying has gone on for centuries, 
but demands, I think, a certain sort of personality. I wanted to spy out the spies.

What genre does your book fall under?
 Historical fiction – bald and simple. There’s espionage and mystery, adventure and romance – all the stuff of the era. I adore the details of life at that time so although my book does cover the intrigues of the  nobility and introduces the character of Richard III, principally it follows the lives of ordinary folk and the criminal element in particular.

What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?

That’s terribly hard. My hero is a complicated, confident, strong and devious man with deep rooted suspicions – but he is comparatively young. Actors who could play such a part convincingly are usually too old. Perhaps Viggo Mortensen, or  Ewen McGregor, but both are much older than my Andrew. The heroine is young and comparatively naïve – so would be easier to cast. Mia Wasikowska perhaps? I’m really not too sure, although the idea of someone making a film of my book is pure 
delight.

What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?

Adventure, espionage and romance during the turgid political turmoil of the late 15^th century.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

It will eventually follow the traditional publication by Simon & Schuster next year (mid 2013) of my 
novel SUMERFORD’S AUTUMN. However, in the meantime I have two self-published historical adventures for sale on 
Amazon – SATIN CINNABAR and FAIR WEATHER.

How long did it take you to finish the first draft of your manuscript?

About 6 months and then 2 months more for rewriting – and finally after a large gap another 2 months 
for the final draft. I considered it completely finished about 4 months ago. I’m a fairly diligent and disciplined writer, but the research 
often takes longer than the writing. I believe in absolute historical accuracy and I do love the research.

What other books would you compare this to within your genre?

I honestly don’t know.  – that’s up to others. I must say I was totally thrilled to read that Brian Wainwright compares my writing to Juliet Merkle Riley (and even to the sublime Dorothy Dunnett). I am extremely flattered.

Who or what inspired you to write this book?

My own over-active imagination more than anything else. At night while asleep and dreaming, I walk 
these cobbled lanes, smell the sour stench of the river, hear the small cosy gossip in the market places, 
and watch as the amazing colour of this era passes by. This time I was also partially inspired by the work 
and exemplary researches of Annette Carson (Richard III:The Maligned King ) who drew my attention 
to the possibility that Edward IV had been murdered, and re-aroused my curiosity as to how this might 
have happened.

What else about the book might pique the reader’s interest?

I hope anyone who loves adventure and has some interest in this period. Most historical novels do tend 
to follow the lives of the nobility – choosing sides as to political affiliation, and then concentrating on existing historical figures. 
I prefer to invent my own characters and although I am fanatical about correct historical fact whenever real people are introduced, I delve more readily into the lives of the ordinary folk, the poor, the lost minorities, and the backstreet criminals. I think my books are fun, and I hope others will agree.

The following authors have kindly agreed to participate in The Next Big Thing. They are all authors of historical fiction. I have the 
pleasure to introduce –

ANNA BELFRAGE will post on 22^nd December -  www.annabelfrage.com/Home/  A RIP IN THE 
VEIL is the first book of THE GRAHAM SAGA, a time switch mystery/romance taking us back to 17^th century Scotland. Anna has other ideas bubbling in the background, but for the moment it is Scottish 
history which sets the scene for her developing series.

JULIET WALDRON will also post on 22^nd December -  http://www.julietwaldron.com/
Amongst her many published novels, her latest ROAN ROSE is a vivid tale of a Yorkshire girl taken into the Earl of Warwick’s household during the latter years of the Wars of the Roses.  Here Richard III and his wife Anne Neville 
are introduced and a story woven around the chaotic events of those late medieval years.

GREGORY HOUSE will also post on 22^nd December – http://rednedtudormysteries.blogspot.com.au/ 
His latest novel THE LORD OF MISRULE and the previous  A COMFIT OF ROGUES are both 
Red Ned Tudor mysteries – all highly original adventures. These clever novels are entertaining jaunts combining fiction and history in the Tudor era. Gregory takes the research very seriously and has a great interest in Tudor times.

DARLENE ELIZABETH WILLIAMS will post on 23^rd December -http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fdarleneelizabethwilliamsauthor.com%2F&h=XAQFdVL0L  An avid reader 
of historical fiction, Darlene’s blog concentrates on reviews, but she is already busily writing her first 
novel with plenty of inspiration for two more to follow.