Research is fascinating, isn't it? I've been reading about the Tudor period in history since I was in my teens and yet, in writing the Luke Ballard stories, I am learning new things every day. The Sweating Sickness is a case in point. A writing friend asked exactly what it was and, despite me thinking I did know, when it came down to it, I had no idea.
It seems to have been a Tudor phenomenon, arriving for the first time in England in 1485 - the year of the Battle of Bosworth and the beginning of the Tudor dynasty. Its last recorded occurrence was in 1551, the year in which 'Treasons' is set.
For many years, I thought it synonymous with the plague, but it had symptoms all its own and was, in reality, much more rapid than the plague. People would die within three hours of its onset and if they lasted for 24 hours, they were considered past the danger point. One other interesting thing about the sickness was that it seemed to attack those who were gluttonous or drunks - those who enjoyed the pleasures of the table. There have been many theories as to what is actually was, one being hantovirus, but whilst the two diseases share some symptoms, the evidence is circumstantial.
The only treatment for it was to abstain from food, apply moderate heat, only drink a small quantity of "mild drink" and wait out the 24 hours. Those who were attacked in the daytime would immediately go to bed in their day clothes to avoid a chill. Those attacked at night stayed in bed. All were completely covered, not even exposing a hand or foot to the air.
The bodily matters that were expelled along with profuse perspiration gave rise to a horrible stench around those who were sick. From descriptions, it appears that these odours could have had an ammonia base, but they certainly caught in the throats of all who were near the stricken person. It is also fairly certain that it was not manual contact that spread the contagion, but breathing in these pestilential atmospheres that either surrounded the beds of the sick or were apparent in the tainted air of unventilated spaces.
Luke Ballard, Detective, Apothecary and Elemancer keeping the Tudors safe at Hampton Court Palace
Friday, 12 November 2010
Saturday, 16 October 2010
Birthing customs in Tudor England
In ‘Treasons’, Queen Madeleine is pregnant with Henry IX’s first child and the much-needed heir. It was the common belief that women were responsible for the sex of the unborn child. Men, of course, could not be seen to be anything other than the superior gender and the King, being the centre of the universe of the court, was the supreme symbol of manhood.
For many years, I have wanted to go back in time and tell Henry VIII the good news that the man’s chromosomes dictate the sex of the child and the mother has nothing to do with it. It would have been an interesting conversation.
In researching for the customs attendant on births in the Tudor era, I am indebted to David Cressy and his book “Birth, Marriage & Death: ritual religion and the life-cycle in Tudor and Stuart England”.
Royal and aristocratic birthrooms had to be snug, darkened and kept warm for the period of labour. One guide stated that the childbed woman “must be kept from the cold air because if is an enemy of the spermatical parts…and therefore the doors and windows of her chamber in any wise are to be kept close shut”.
The room would be hung with arras, tapestry hangings. In Hamlet, Polonius is stabbed whilst hiding behind an arras curtain. The doors would be guarded and the windows covered. It was believed that the woman’s mind would be distracted by light, so the room was designed to echo the womb by being warm, dark and comfortable, thus keeping evil spirits at bay.
The soon-to-be mother would be surrounded by female friends, called gossips – from the term god-sip, a sister in the Lord. In middle class houses, there was frequent complaint at the amount of money it took to feed and house all these women, but in royal circles, the gossips would be lodged nearby to the birthing chamber. Many priests, suspicious of this overwhelming femininity, would call for the pregnant woman to spend more time thinking about spiritual matters than being distracted by her friends. Not such a bad thing when many births ended with the death of the mother and the child.
When the time came for the Queen to retire to the chamber, she would be accompanied by all her ladies and gentlewomen, no man being permitted access. She would, in effect, be in purdah, until she had given birth and the father was presented with his newborn child.
Popular belief has maligned midwives as being drunken witches with few hygiene rules or otherwise painted them as having mystical ancient wisdom, countering patriarchal tyranny. Most midwives were respectable married women or widows who regularly attended church. They held a very important place in the household, being the only people who could touch the pregnant woman intimately. They would, in extremis, give the newborn baptism. It was also common for midwives to carry the baby to the font at its christening and attend the new mother at her churching – the purification and thanksgiving service for the new mother, celebrating her return to everyday life about six weeks after giving birth.
For many years, I have wanted to go back in time and tell Henry VIII the good news that the man’s chromosomes dictate the sex of the child and the mother has nothing to do with it. It would have been an interesting conversation.
In researching for the customs attendant on births in the Tudor era, I am indebted to David Cressy and his book “Birth, Marriage & Death: ritual religion and the life-cycle in Tudor and Stuart England”.
Royal and aristocratic birthrooms had to be snug, darkened and kept warm for the period of labour. One guide stated that the childbed woman “must be kept from the cold air because if is an enemy of the spermatical parts…and therefore the doors and windows of her chamber in any wise are to be kept close shut”.
The room would be hung with arras, tapestry hangings. In Hamlet, Polonius is stabbed whilst hiding behind an arras curtain. The doors would be guarded and the windows covered. It was believed that the woman’s mind would be distracted by light, so the room was designed to echo the womb by being warm, dark and comfortable, thus keeping evil spirits at bay.
The soon-to-be mother would be surrounded by female friends, called gossips – from the term god-sip, a sister in the Lord. In middle class houses, there was frequent complaint at the amount of money it took to feed and house all these women, but in royal circles, the gossips would be lodged nearby to the birthing chamber. Many priests, suspicious of this overwhelming femininity, would call for the pregnant woman to spend more time thinking about spiritual matters than being distracted by her friends. Not such a bad thing when many births ended with the death of the mother and the child.
When the time came for the Queen to retire to the chamber, she would be accompanied by all her ladies and gentlewomen, no man being permitted access. She would, in effect, be in purdah, until she had given birth and the father was presented with his newborn child.
Popular belief has maligned midwives as being drunken witches with few hygiene rules or otherwise painted them as having mystical ancient wisdom, countering patriarchal tyranny. Most midwives were respectable married women or widows who regularly attended church. They held a very important place in the household, being the only people who could touch the pregnant woman intimately. They would, in extremis, give the newborn baptism. It was also common for midwives to carry the baby to the font at its christening and attend the new mother at her churching – the purification and thanksgiving service for the new mother, celebrating her return to everyday life about six weeks after giving birth.
Tuesday, 5 October 2010
Royal Servants in Tudor times
The archetypical modern view of servants is that they are downtrodden, exploited souls who have no option but to run around after someone else. Even as recently as the First World War, though, the attitude to being 'in service' was very different. Yes, you may be on call from 6am - 11pm, but you had a safe home, all the food you needed and, in the main, employers appreciated you because they knew they could not function without you.
In Tudor times, servants had immense influence and, therefore, power. Although Henry VII, a very private man, learned the hard way that the fewer people he trusted the safer he was, his successor was a very different man. Whereas Henry VII surrounded himself with people of lower status to ensure that they would not get ideas above their stations, Henry VIII had a wide circle of friends, men of standing, who came from noble families. There were always Howards, Greys and Talbots at court, in capacities as gentlemen of the bedchamber and the various posts around the King's 'bathroom' activities. In Great Harry's court, they had to be linguists with exquisite social graces, as well as having military training.
The King was the centre of everything at court - the primate, in the same way as the Elizabethans regarded the sun as the primate of the heavens because it was the brightest star. So there would be plenty of scrabbling on and over rivals to obtain the choice places, even if that meant wiping the royal bottom and bathing the mountain of flesh that Henry became in his later years. Why? A perfect opportunity to ask for favours either for themselves or their families. The young Henry was known to be indulgent and, on more than one occasion, when he had agreed a course of action with a minister, would then be persuaded to change his mind by one of his close servants. This frequently enraged Cardinal Wolsey, but constant attendance upon the monarch bred a closeness that made saying no difficult at times.
So next time you wrinkle your nose at the thought of some unfortunate courtier having to carry out Henry's bodily waste, think on. The courtier in question might just have been promised a nice rich widow or an estate stripped from a traitor. Then again, your sympathy might well be justified, because, when it came to his sense of self, Henry was just as likely to execute men he had counted as friends from childhood, if he thought they had crossed the line.
In Tudor times, servants had immense influence and, therefore, power. Although Henry VII, a very private man, learned the hard way that the fewer people he trusted the safer he was, his successor was a very different man. Whereas Henry VII surrounded himself with people of lower status to ensure that they would not get ideas above their stations, Henry VIII had a wide circle of friends, men of standing, who came from noble families. There were always Howards, Greys and Talbots at court, in capacities as gentlemen of the bedchamber and the various posts around the King's 'bathroom' activities. In Great Harry's court, they had to be linguists with exquisite social graces, as well as having military training.
The King was the centre of everything at court - the primate, in the same way as the Elizabethans regarded the sun as the primate of the heavens because it was the brightest star. So there would be plenty of scrabbling on and over rivals to obtain the choice places, even if that meant wiping the royal bottom and bathing the mountain of flesh that Henry became in his later years. Why? A perfect opportunity to ask for favours either for themselves or their families. The young Henry was known to be indulgent and, on more than one occasion, when he had agreed a course of action with a minister, would then be persuaded to change his mind by one of his close servants. This frequently enraged Cardinal Wolsey, but constant attendance upon the monarch bred a closeness that made saying no difficult at times.
So next time you wrinkle your nose at the thought of some unfortunate courtier having to carry out Henry's bodily waste, think on. The courtier in question might just have been promised a nice rich widow or an estate stripped from a traitor. Then again, your sympathy might well be justified, because, when it came to his sense of self, Henry was just as likely to execute men he had counted as friends from childhood, if he thought they had crossed the line.
Friday, 1 October 2010
Historical notes behind the Luke Ballard books
It's all very well writing an alternate history, but, unlike novels set in an unknown future, it still has to have a sound historic base. I am pedantic enough - and passionate enough about history to require as many historical facts that fit my premise to be as accurate as I can make them. Not always easy given a 500 year time lapse and the known inaccuracies of some "historians".
In reality, Anne Boleyn miscarried the boy child who would have been born around July 1534. Most historians have agreed that Henry VIII tired of Anne's imperious ways and quick temper. He was heard after her execution to say he was tired of women trained in the French court, which, of course, Anne had been. He sought refuge with Jane Seymour - who, incidentally, as David Starkey points out, managed to obtain in 6 weeks what it took Anne to achieve in 6 years, namely the crown.
However, Dr Suzannah Lipscombe has published "1536: The year that changed Henry VIII" in which she puts forward a compelling argument that Henry did not tire of Anne at all and a contemporary poem supports her point of view. In a nutshell, Dr Lipscombe quotes sources saying that in the autumn and winter of 1535, Henry and Anne were "merry together"and that as late as April 1536, Henry manoeuvred Chapuys, the Spanish ambassador to bow to Anne, therefore recognising her as Queen. It appears that rumour of Anne's behaviour reached a high official - probably Thomas Cromwell - who took the matter to Henry. Henry was so stunned by the accusations that he would not at first believe them, but then ordered an investigation warning that if the accusers were wrong, they would suffer death. To fully appreciate Henry's shock, we must remember that a 16th century cuckold was thought to lack sexual dominance and, of course, this would be unthinkable for Henry. So we are left with the intriguing question in our minds. Was Anne thrown to the wolves because the investigators preferred that she should die rather than they be proved wrong? There is no doubt that Henry VIII felt desperately betrayed and that this set the seed for the bloody tyrant who developed in his last ten years.
In the Luke Ballard books, Anne safely delivered her son in July 1534 and he is now Henry IX. I have a passing reference to Cromwell attempting to catch Henry VIII's eye with Jane Seymour, but the plan miscarrying and Anne biding her time before turning the tables on Cromwell and having him executed. In reality, he was executed for being unable to release Henry VIII from the marriage with Anne of Cleves. Anne Boleyn in my world is an elemancer, an extension of the commonly held belief that she was a witch. I like to think that Dr Lipscombe is correct and that, until very shortly before her unjust execution, Henry and Anne were happy together. Since the age of 14, I have believed her completely innocent of the accusations made against her.
In reality, Anne Boleyn miscarried the boy child who would have been born around July 1534. Most historians have agreed that Henry VIII tired of Anne's imperious ways and quick temper. He was heard after her execution to say he was tired of women trained in the French court, which, of course, Anne had been. He sought refuge with Jane Seymour - who, incidentally, as David Starkey points out, managed to obtain in 6 weeks what it took Anne to achieve in 6 years, namely the crown.
However, Dr Suzannah Lipscombe has published "1536: The year that changed Henry VIII" in which she puts forward a compelling argument that Henry did not tire of Anne at all and a contemporary poem supports her point of view. In a nutshell, Dr Lipscombe quotes sources saying that in the autumn and winter of 1535, Henry and Anne were "merry together"and that as late as April 1536, Henry manoeuvred Chapuys, the Spanish ambassador to bow to Anne, therefore recognising her as Queen. It appears that rumour of Anne's behaviour reached a high official - probably Thomas Cromwell - who took the matter to Henry. Henry was so stunned by the accusations that he would not at first believe them, but then ordered an investigation warning that if the accusers were wrong, they would suffer death. To fully appreciate Henry's shock, we must remember that a 16th century cuckold was thought to lack sexual dominance and, of course, this would be unthinkable for Henry. So we are left with the intriguing question in our minds. Was Anne thrown to the wolves because the investigators preferred that she should die rather than they be proved wrong? There is no doubt that Henry VIII felt desperately betrayed and that this set the seed for the bloody tyrant who developed in his last ten years.
In the Luke Ballard books, Anne safely delivered her son in July 1534 and he is now Henry IX. I have a passing reference to Cromwell attempting to catch Henry VIII's eye with Jane Seymour, but the plan miscarrying and Anne biding her time before turning the tables on Cromwell and having him executed. In reality, he was executed for being unable to release Henry VIII from the marriage with Anne of Cleves. Anne Boleyn in my world is an elemancer, an extension of the commonly held belief that she was a witch. I like to think that Dr Lipscombe is correct and that, until very shortly before her unjust execution, Henry and Anne were happy together. Since the age of 14, I have believed her completely innocent of the accusations made against her.
Wednesday, 22 September 2010
Elemancers, Sunderers and Order
Just because my hero, Luke Ballard, is an elemancer - a magician who performs his magic using the elements - does not mean that he is all powerful. What a boring story it would be if he was! No, Luke must work within set parameters, precisely in the way that sunderers, mortal enemies of elemancers, do not.
All magic must be grounded in logic. Empedocles, born in 490BC, was a Greek philosopher who, some claimed could control the weather, destroy evil and cure old age. He established the four ultimate elements, fire, water, earth and air. Each elemancer in my books has a special affinity with one of these elements and it affects the way he/she is able to perform their magic. The elements are eternally united in love (elemancy) and perpetually torn apart by strife (asunder).
Mix this with the basic tenets of Elizabethan World Order and Chain of Being - the hierarchy of the universe ordained by God and the fundamentals of elemancy are born. Elemancers work for the good of mankind through the grace of God, to maintain the balance necessary for the world to function properly and for man to function within the world. Sunderers on the other hand work solely for personal power and to cause chaos and disorder.
The order of the universe was a recurring theme in Renaissance literature and many of Shakespeare's plays deal with the results of men's activities creating imbalance. Thus when Northumberland says in Henry IV Pt 2 'Let Order Die', the 16th century audience would have at once understood the depth of his grief for his dead son and heir and the strength of his desire for revenge.
The magic that Luke uses to maintain the cosmic balance is of the cause and effect variety. His spells gather data, information that will help his investigations, but which will not provide the answers as to whodunnit. As a balance to this way of magic, sunderers coerce their victims through threats and dark magic to obey.
This continual fight for balance is only part of the conflict that Luke must work with and through. He is part of a society where heedless gossip can easily lead to a spell in the Tower or worse. One of his main attributes is an unfailing sense of justice, especially for the poor and oppressed who, frequently innocent, are used as handy scapegoats for the crimes of the nobility. Will Luke ever come to terms with his loyalty to the King and his determination that the guilty, be they never so high, must and will be made to answer for their crimes?
All magic must be grounded in logic. Empedocles, born in 490BC, was a Greek philosopher who, some claimed could control the weather, destroy evil and cure old age. He established the four ultimate elements, fire, water, earth and air. Each elemancer in my books has a special affinity with one of these elements and it affects the way he/she is able to perform their magic. The elements are eternally united in love (elemancy) and perpetually torn apart by strife (asunder).
Mix this with the basic tenets of Elizabethan World Order and Chain of Being - the hierarchy of the universe ordained by God and the fundamentals of elemancy are born. Elemancers work for the good of mankind through the grace of God, to maintain the balance necessary for the world to function properly and for man to function within the world. Sunderers on the other hand work solely for personal power and to cause chaos and disorder.
The order of the universe was a recurring theme in Renaissance literature and many of Shakespeare's plays deal with the results of men's activities creating imbalance. Thus when Northumberland says in Henry IV Pt 2 'Let Order Die', the 16th century audience would have at once understood the depth of his grief for his dead son and heir and the strength of his desire for revenge.
The magic that Luke uses to maintain the cosmic balance is of the cause and effect variety. His spells gather data, information that will help his investigations, but which will not provide the answers as to whodunnit. As a balance to this way of magic, sunderers coerce their victims through threats and dark magic to obey.
This continual fight for balance is only part of the conflict that Luke must work with and through. He is part of a society where heedless gossip can easily lead to a spell in the Tower or worse. One of his main attributes is an unfailing sense of justice, especially for the poor and oppressed who, frequently innocent, are used as handy scapegoats for the crimes of the nobility. Will Luke ever come to terms with his loyalty to the King and his determination that the guilty, be they never so high, must and will be made to answer for their crimes?
Monday, 20 September 2010
When reality pokes its head above the parapet
Wasn’t it George Orwell who said in that brilliant but depressing book “Coming Up For Air” something like ‘you remember it all so perfectly and you remember it all wrong’?
Well that’s me at the moment. Having a complete scene in my head of Luke and Grace creeping from Henry IX’s apartments round the corner to Queen Madeleine’s rooms to examine the scene of the first murder, I realise after a few hundred words that I’ve got the geography the wrong way round. It doesn’t help, of course, that the Tudor royal apartments are no longer there – curse you, William III. In a way, though, it shouldn’t matter that much. But in my head, it does.
I’m going through one of those horrible phases when I am desperate to get on with the book and my head is teeming with characters, only to go blank, fingers poised over keyboard when I get there. I’ve always maintained that the only way to get through something like this is to keep the fingers tapping on the keyboard until you find the rhythm again. Having mapped out the general plot, I now need to just let my imagination and the characters take me where they want to go, but my brain is so stuffed full of unimportant stuff like what I’m cooking for dinner tonight and why my golden retriever has suddenly become very disobedient, that my usually disciplined writer’s head has been replaced by Mrs Thinkaboutanythingbutthebook Head. It doesn’t help when I meet the almost embarrassed old chap on the dog walk who can never think of anything to say but ‘written any more books lately?’
I have discovered one fabulous thing, though. Whoever wrote the words ‘if music be the food of love, play on’ was dead right. I can write moving dialogues of heart-rending prose to Craig Armstrong’s film music, especially the balcony scene of Romeo and Juliet. So, whenever I need my character to emote, it’s just a matter of flicking a switch and letting the music send my pen scribbling. Eric Whitacre’s music is brilliant for this, too, except that I sometimes find myself actively listening as well, which, whilst brilliant for the soul, is death to word counts.
So, I’ve figured that what I need to do is find the right music and Luke will stir from his enforced halt on the walk to the Queen’s apartments and begin moving his investigation forward.
Well that’s me at the moment. Having a complete scene in my head of Luke and Grace creeping from Henry IX’s apartments round the corner to Queen Madeleine’s rooms to examine the scene of the first murder, I realise after a few hundred words that I’ve got the geography the wrong way round. It doesn’t help, of course, that the Tudor royal apartments are no longer there – curse you, William III. In a way, though, it shouldn’t matter that much. But in my head, it does.
I’m going through one of those horrible phases when I am desperate to get on with the book and my head is teeming with characters, only to go blank, fingers poised over keyboard when I get there. I’ve always maintained that the only way to get through something like this is to keep the fingers tapping on the keyboard until you find the rhythm again. Having mapped out the general plot, I now need to just let my imagination and the characters take me where they want to go, but my brain is so stuffed full of unimportant stuff like what I’m cooking for dinner tonight and why my golden retriever has suddenly become very disobedient, that my usually disciplined writer’s head has been replaced by Mrs Thinkaboutanythingbutthebook Head. It doesn’t help when I meet the almost embarrassed old chap on the dog walk who can never think of anything to say but ‘written any more books lately?’
I have discovered one fabulous thing, though. Whoever wrote the words ‘if music be the food of love, play on’ was dead right. I can write moving dialogues of heart-rending prose to Craig Armstrong’s film music, especially the balcony scene of Romeo and Juliet. So, whenever I need my character to emote, it’s just a matter of flicking a switch and letting the music send my pen scribbling. Eric Whitacre’s music is brilliant for this, too, except that I sometimes find myself actively listening as well, which, whilst brilliant for the soul, is death to word counts.
So, I’ve figured that what I need to do is find the right music and Luke will stir from his enforced halt on the walk to the Queen’s apartments and begin moving his investigation forward.
Wednesday, 15 September 2010
What is a holiday?
Most people view a holiday as a time to get away from the domestic chores and routine. So did I until last week when we took a bus trip to Germany. I was away from the computer, away from the distractions of the Internet and e-mail and spending quite a lot of the time sitting on a bus.
It turned out to be a fantastic opportunity to just let my imagination play with the possibilities of 'Treasons'. The rest of the bus soon grew used to me scrabbling in my bag for the Moleskine notebook - thank you Writers' Forum - grabbing a pen and scribbling furiously. Quite often ideas came at mealtimes. The short-sighted obese man squinting at his food would make a wonderful self-important court official. The bent elderly eccentric, cutting up his food into tiny bites, the self-important woman preening as she looked around to see if anyone had more diamonds on than her. Once my bus companions found out I write, they did the usual 'don't put me in it' and 'there are plenty of people here for you to pick on'. I did listen with interest to one lady, whose grandparents had fled from Russia about how the Russians broke the spirits of the troublemakers in their prisons. That, too, will appear in some form in 'Treasons'.
The best bit about the whole experience - apart from the hotel pool and seeing the Mohne Dam - was the fact that I had ample opportunity to sit with Paul, drinking Stella and finally putting the bones of the plot together. Now I've done that, I need to concentrate on my 'family' of characters. So, here I sit in the Word Shed, the usual gales of the third week of September howling outside, Rufus asleep on the floor and I travel back to 1551, Hampton Court and Luke's apothecary shop....
It turned out to be a fantastic opportunity to just let my imagination play with the possibilities of 'Treasons'. The rest of the bus soon grew used to me scrabbling in my bag for the Moleskine notebook - thank you Writers' Forum - grabbing a pen and scribbling furiously. Quite often ideas came at mealtimes. The short-sighted obese man squinting at his food would make a wonderful self-important court official. The bent elderly eccentric, cutting up his food into tiny bites, the self-important woman preening as she looked around to see if anyone had more diamonds on than her. Once my bus companions found out I write, they did the usual 'don't put me in it' and 'there are plenty of people here for you to pick on'. I did listen with interest to one lady, whose grandparents had fled from Russia about how the Russians broke the spirits of the troublemakers in their prisons. That, too, will appear in some form in 'Treasons'.
The best bit about the whole experience - apart from the hotel pool and seeing the Mohne Dam - was the fact that I had ample opportunity to sit with Paul, drinking Stella and finally putting the bones of the plot together. Now I've done that, I need to concentrate on my 'family' of characters. So, here I sit in the Word Shed, the usual gales of the third week of September howling outside, Rufus asleep on the floor and I travel back to 1551, Hampton Court and Luke's apothecary shop....
Tuesday, 31 August 2010
Tudor nobility - the Dudley family
When we think of rebellions and the like, most people will be aware of the Babington plot to put Mary, Queen of Scots on the throne, during the reign of Elizabeth. However, when you look at the whole Tudor dynasty, they all had their scary moments. And, in times of instability, there are always those who can make hay and a lot of money. The Dudleys were such a family.
Henry VII, victor at Bosworth Field and the first Tudor monarch, was plagued by 'pretenders', notably Lambert Simnel and Perkin Warbeck. Simnel was put to work in the kitchens, but Warbeck, a much more serious threat, was executed. By the time Henry VII died in 1509, although he had provided an heir (Arthur, who died) and the spare (Henry, who lived), the dynasty was no more secure than it had been in 1485, when he grabbed his crown, allegedly, from a thorn bush after Richard III had been killed.
A completely different man to his father, Henry VIII began his reign by executing two of his father's most rapacious money gatherers, Empson and Dudley. Ah, yes, Dudley. That name is writ large in Tudor history. Henry VII used Edmund Dudley to increase the royal coffers. Henry VIII used Edmund's son, John as a victorious soldier and Admiral. As Viscount Lisle, Dudley took part in the victory over the French at the Battle of the Solent, even though the Mary Rose was lost. He was also part of the victorious forces at the Battle of Solway Moss in 1542 and became one of Henry VIII's closest friends through the final years of the king's life.
John Dudley was made Duke of Northumberland by Henry's son Edward VI and the dissent in this boy-king's reign was mainly from the factions at court wanting power. The struggle see-sawed between Dudley and Somerset, Edward's uncle and brother to Queen Jane Seymour. In this battle nothing was sacred. To save his own skin, Somerset abetted the execution of his own brother, Thomas. Robert Ket led a rebellion against the new prayer book, so dissent was not limited to the court.
When Edward died, it was Northumberland who tried to force acceptance of Jane Grey as Queen, even marrying her to his son, Guildford. Alas, this time, Dudley had chosen the losing side. When he realised he had miscalculated and that the people wanted Mary as Queen, Dudley changed sides - and religion, admitted his errors and swore allegiance to Mary. She, however, responded by having him imprisoned in the Tower.
Mary was not as bloodthirsty as she has been painted. However, as soon as she saw a portrait of Philip II of Spain, she fell deeply in love. Philip's price for coming to England was that all traitors should be executed. Wyatt, who had rebelled against the Queen was executed and, to prevent a new opposing faction having a figurehead, Jane Grey and her husband were also killed, as was Northumberland. For a time, the Dudley family went into decline. Elizabeth, childhood friend of Robert Dudley, one of Northumberland's other sons, was persona non grata at court. Mary wished to execute her, but |Philip II, with one eye on the future, forbade this and, in effect, saved the life of the one person who would cause him more problems than any other in the next 30 years.
When Mary died in November 1558, Elizabeth was proclaimed Queen and Robert Dudley became her Master of Horse. She created him Earl of Leicester. They appear from all contemporary accounts to have been emotionally close to each other throughout their entire lives, although Robert could be and frequently was, bad tempered and high-handed. He was devoted to her service and one of the most vociferous voices to call for the execution of Mary, Queen of Scots. These calls were finally heeded after the third plot against Elizabeth's life, the one that was possibly the most threatening, that of Babington. Mary was duly executed at Fotheringhay Castle and this led directly to the invasion in 1588 by the Spanish Armada.
News of Robert Dudley's death reached Elizabeth just as she was celebrating her victory over Spain. She was devastated and labelled his final letter to her "His last letter", keeping it with her jewels. Elizabeth was the last Tudor monarch and Robert the last Dudley courtier.
Henry VII, victor at Bosworth Field and the first Tudor monarch, was plagued by 'pretenders', notably Lambert Simnel and Perkin Warbeck. Simnel was put to work in the kitchens, but Warbeck, a much more serious threat, was executed. By the time Henry VII died in 1509, although he had provided an heir (Arthur, who died) and the spare (Henry, who lived), the dynasty was no more secure than it had been in 1485, when he grabbed his crown, allegedly, from a thorn bush after Richard III had been killed.
A completely different man to his father, Henry VIII began his reign by executing two of his father's most rapacious money gatherers, Empson and Dudley. Ah, yes, Dudley. That name is writ large in Tudor history. Henry VII used Edmund Dudley to increase the royal coffers. Henry VIII used Edmund's son, John as a victorious soldier and Admiral. As Viscount Lisle, Dudley took part in the victory over the French at the Battle of the Solent, even though the Mary Rose was lost. He was also part of the victorious forces at the Battle of Solway Moss in 1542 and became one of Henry VIII's closest friends through the final years of the king's life.
John Dudley was made Duke of Northumberland by Henry's son Edward VI and the dissent in this boy-king's reign was mainly from the factions at court wanting power. The struggle see-sawed between Dudley and Somerset, Edward's uncle and brother to Queen Jane Seymour. In this battle nothing was sacred. To save his own skin, Somerset abetted the execution of his own brother, Thomas. Robert Ket led a rebellion against the new prayer book, so dissent was not limited to the court.
When Edward died, it was Northumberland who tried to force acceptance of Jane Grey as Queen, even marrying her to his son, Guildford. Alas, this time, Dudley had chosen the losing side. When he realised he had miscalculated and that the people wanted Mary as Queen, Dudley changed sides - and religion, admitted his errors and swore allegiance to Mary. She, however, responded by having him imprisoned in the Tower.
Mary was not as bloodthirsty as she has been painted. However, as soon as she saw a portrait of Philip II of Spain, she fell deeply in love. Philip's price for coming to England was that all traitors should be executed. Wyatt, who had rebelled against the Queen was executed and, to prevent a new opposing faction having a figurehead, Jane Grey and her husband were also killed, as was Northumberland. For a time, the Dudley family went into decline. Elizabeth, childhood friend of Robert Dudley, one of Northumberland's other sons, was persona non grata at court. Mary wished to execute her, but |Philip II, with one eye on the future, forbade this and, in effect, saved the life of the one person who would cause him more problems than any other in the next 30 years.
When Mary died in November 1558, Elizabeth was proclaimed Queen and Robert Dudley became her Master of Horse. She created him Earl of Leicester. They appear from all contemporary accounts to have been emotionally close to each other throughout their entire lives, although Robert could be and frequently was, bad tempered and high-handed. He was devoted to her service and one of the most vociferous voices to call for the execution of Mary, Queen of Scots. These calls were finally heeded after the third plot against Elizabeth's life, the one that was possibly the most threatening, that of Babington. Mary was duly executed at Fotheringhay Castle and this led directly to the invasion in 1588 by the Spanish Armada.
News of Robert Dudley's death reached Elizabeth just as she was celebrating her victory over Spain. She was devastated and labelled his final letter to her "His last letter", keeping it with her jewels. Elizabeth was the last Tudor monarch and Robert the last Dudley courtier.
Wednesday, 25 August 2010
Wading through sand
Sometimes, despite the excitement and the thoughts whirling in your mind, it's impossible to get it straight enough to write down. Today has been a case in point. Although the Word Shed, my new writing cabin, is not officially open, I tried writing in it yesterday on the new - to me - Macbook Pro. Sadly, because of the torrential rain, I couldn't find an internet connection and the noise of the water pounding on the roof was not exactly soothing. And it was a bit chilly, so I moved back indoors.
Enter Sir Galahad aka Paul, who moved the router in the house so that, hopefully, the signal will be easier to pick up in the cabin. I've been in here all morning. It is now mid afternoon and everything to do with the internet has gone swimmingly. Wish I could say the same for the writing.
I've always been one of those who ploughs straight through from beginning to end, not bothering to go back and edit, just with my eye on the last sentence. Because this book is still so young, I haven't swung into a proper rhythm with the plot yet. This is the wading through sand bit, because until this fluidity takes over, my brain can't play with bits of plot as I am writing and neither does the plot bypass my brain and go straight to the fingers - 'What on earth made me write that? Hang on, though, if...' and off we go.
For some writers, their fingers would slow and then stop. I won't do that. The only way to progress the plot is to keep my bum in the seat and my fingers dancing on the keys. Never mind if what I've written today is rubbish. It's 2000 words more than I wrote yesterday and somewhere in this morass, I'll find the strand of the story and begin to tease it out.
For the moment, having struggled to 2000 words, I am going to treat myself to a long hot shower and then go to my writers' group. We spend a lot of time laughing, but always manage to get in constructive criticism. There will be the usual mix of encouragement, cajoling and solid tips on how to progress. I always come away loving what I do and anxious to get back to the keyboard.
Let's hope that all produces another 2000 words tomorrow.
Enter Sir Galahad aka Paul, who moved the router in the house so that, hopefully, the signal will be easier to pick up in the cabin. I've been in here all morning. It is now mid afternoon and everything to do with the internet has gone swimmingly. Wish I could say the same for the writing.
I've always been one of those who ploughs straight through from beginning to end, not bothering to go back and edit, just with my eye on the last sentence. Because this book is still so young, I haven't swung into a proper rhythm with the plot yet. This is the wading through sand bit, because until this fluidity takes over, my brain can't play with bits of plot as I am writing and neither does the plot bypass my brain and go straight to the fingers - 'What on earth made me write that? Hang on, though, if...' and off we go.
For some writers, their fingers would slow and then stop. I won't do that. The only way to progress the plot is to keep my bum in the seat and my fingers dancing on the keys. Never mind if what I've written today is rubbish. It's 2000 words more than I wrote yesterday and somewhere in this morass, I'll find the strand of the story and begin to tease it out.
For the moment, having struggled to 2000 words, I am going to treat myself to a long hot shower and then go to my writers' group. We spend a lot of time laughing, but always manage to get in constructive criticism. There will be the usual mix of encouragement, cajoling and solid tips on how to progress. I always come away loving what I do and anxious to get back to the keyboard.
Let's hope that all produces another 2000 words tomorrow.
Monday, 23 August 2010
Luke Ballard's Hampton Court Palace
My protagonist, apothecary and elemancer Luke Ballard, would have only been familiar with about half the building we know today as Hampton Court Palace. We can thank William III for two things, one is pulling down the south side of the Tudor palace containing amongst other things the royal apartments of Henry VIII and his descendants, for which I hope his knickers rot in hell, but then he redeemed himself by dying before he could demolish the rest. A good reason to thank the “gentleman in black velvet”, the name given to the mole whose molehill caused William’s horse to stumble and him to fall, resulting in his death some days later. All work on Hampton Court was stopped, which gives us half a Tudor palace, thankfully left intact by the Georgians. William’s initial demolition cut a straight swathe through the building and the new southern palace was built facing the river.
There are few leftovers from the Tudors within the Georgian palace, including the wooden base of the stairs up which the pages brought Henry’s clean clothes each morning. The only remaining glimpse of the royal apartments is the door leading to them from the Great Watching Chamber. Through this, Henry and his close courtiers would sweep out of public gaze. Sweep through those doors today and you would plunge down several metres onto the stairs of the Georgian palace because that is William’s dividing line.
Henry VIII would still recognise his Great Hall, although the Victorians altered the window adornments. When Anne Boleyn was executed, he gave orders for all entwined HA initials to be removed, but one was forgotten and you can still see it today. The Great Watching Chamber was the first of the public rooms and when Henry came to services in the Chapel Royal, he would have come through it.
The Chapel Royal itself is still used today and some of Henry’s marriages were celebrated in the Queen’s Holy Day Closet on the upper floor, shut off from the prying eyes of the people in the body of the chapel. Outside the King’s and Queen’s Holy Day Closets is the “Haunted Gallery”. Legend has it that Catherine Howard, wife No 5, when her “indiscretions” were reported to Henry in his Holy Day closet, escaped the vigilance of her jailers and flew down the gallery towards the King who was in his pew in the chapel. She was captured, but her screams to her husband were heard by everyone as she was dragged back to her apartments. Her ghost reputedly dashes down the gallery in that last desperate bid for freedom. In truth, it is highly unlikely that this happened at all. The modern accepted version is that Henry was out hunting when he was given a letter detailing his wife’s infidelities and not even in the palace, but it makes a romantic story. A far more likely ghostly appearance is in the rooms once belonging to Cardinal Wolsey. Not spoken of openly amongst the current-day warders, there have been known disturbances and sightings in that area.
Go into the ladies’ loos – sorry chaps - in the Base Court and you can see the excavation to a huge conduit, now glassed over. You can see another part of it from the shop under what used to be Anne Boleyn’s rooms. This conduit is large enough to take a man on horseback and I have used it in the Luke stories.
In my world of 1550, of course, Anne Boleyn is still alive and it is her son, Henry who sits on the throne. I have sited Luke’s house and apothecary shop in the Outer Green between the west front of the palace and the Trophy Gate. In Tudor times, the Outer Green contained a Great Bakehouse, a Privy Bakehouse, a Poultry Office with a Scalding House for the poultry, a Knife House and a woodyard which stored wood for fires. I am confident that Luke’s shop would have blended in quite happily.
In the 1550s, Hampton Court Bridge did not exist, but the Royal Mews is still in evidence a few hundred yards down Hampton Court Road. Immediately outside the Trophy Gate was a timber yard, saw pits and a wharf.
Posting a plan of the Tudor palace has copyright problems, but I will try to overcome this in a future post.
There are few leftovers from the Tudors within the Georgian palace, including the wooden base of the stairs up which the pages brought Henry’s clean clothes each morning. The only remaining glimpse of the royal apartments is the door leading to them from the Great Watching Chamber. Through this, Henry and his close courtiers would sweep out of public gaze. Sweep through those doors today and you would plunge down several metres onto the stairs of the Georgian palace because that is William’s dividing line.
Henry VIII would still recognise his Great Hall, although the Victorians altered the window adornments. When Anne Boleyn was executed, he gave orders for all entwined HA initials to be removed, but one was forgotten and you can still see it today. The Great Watching Chamber was the first of the public rooms and when Henry came to services in the Chapel Royal, he would have come through it.
The Chapel Royal itself is still used today and some of Henry’s marriages were celebrated in the Queen’s Holy Day Closet on the upper floor, shut off from the prying eyes of the people in the body of the chapel. Outside the King’s and Queen’s Holy Day Closets is the “Haunted Gallery”. Legend has it that Catherine Howard, wife No 5, when her “indiscretions” were reported to Henry in his Holy Day closet, escaped the vigilance of her jailers and flew down the gallery towards the King who was in his pew in the chapel. She was captured, but her screams to her husband were heard by everyone as she was dragged back to her apartments. Her ghost reputedly dashes down the gallery in that last desperate bid for freedom. In truth, it is highly unlikely that this happened at all. The modern accepted version is that Henry was out hunting when he was given a letter detailing his wife’s infidelities and not even in the palace, but it makes a romantic story. A far more likely ghostly appearance is in the rooms once belonging to Cardinal Wolsey. Not spoken of openly amongst the current-day warders, there have been known disturbances and sightings in that area.
Go into the ladies’ loos – sorry chaps - in the Base Court and you can see the excavation to a huge conduit, now glassed over. You can see another part of it from the shop under what used to be Anne Boleyn’s rooms. This conduit is large enough to take a man on horseback and I have used it in the Luke stories.
In my world of 1550, of course, Anne Boleyn is still alive and it is her son, Henry who sits on the throne. I have sited Luke’s house and apothecary shop in the Outer Green between the west front of the palace and the Trophy Gate. In Tudor times, the Outer Green contained a Great Bakehouse, a Privy Bakehouse, a Poultry Office with a Scalding House for the poultry, a Knife House and a woodyard which stored wood for fires. I am confident that Luke’s shop would have blended in quite happily.
In the 1550s, Hampton Court Bridge did not exist, but the Royal Mews is still in evidence a few hundred yards down Hampton Court Road. Immediately outside the Trophy Gate was a timber yard, saw pits and a wharf.
Posting a plan of the Tudor palace has copyright problems, but I will try to overcome this in a future post.
Sunday, 22 August 2010
The wonderful world of research
Being a chartered librarian, who specialised initially in Local History, research is a passion and joy. For years, if asked, I would have told you that my ideal job would have been Local Studies librarian in Shrewsbury, not just for the Cadfael era history, but that area of the Midlands has a history that any interested researcher finds mouth-watering.
So, what is it about the history that is so beguiling for a writer of mysteries? Let me give you an example. At the moment, I am considering the lives of two powerful women, both Queens of England and both, not that well known. The first is Elizabeth Woodville, Queen to King Edward IV, the second Anne Neville, Queen to Edward's brother, Richard III, or, as Eric Morecambe used to call him Richard the hundredth and eleventh. The two women had a lot in common. They were married to brothers, both were second wives, both were quite strong characters who influenced their husbands. Anne was daughter to Richard, Duke of Warwick, known as Warwick the Kingmaker. Her sister was married to another brother, George, Duke of Clarence - still with me??
When Anne's first husband died, George took her into 'protective custody', which is another way of saying he wanted his hands on the entire Neville fortune and with one sister as his wife and the other as his ward, this was the easiest way to get it. Now enter Richard of York, later Richard III. Anne escaped from George and, legend has it, sought refuge in a cookshop disguised as a servant. Richard tracked her down and escorted her to sanctuary, so that George could not get his hands on her. A year later, Anne and Richard were married. He was said to be distraught when she died 15 years later. A few months after her death, Henry Tudor defeated Richard at the battle of Bosworth Field, declared himself Henry VII and promptly married Edward IV's daughter by Elizabeth Woodville. They were the parents of Henry VIII.
Elizabeth herself had no easy ride. She was said to be the most beautiful woman in England with heavy-lidded eyes 'like a dragon' - which just shows how standards of beauty have changed. She was the mother of ten, including the Princes in the Tower. Rapaciously ambitious for her family, she garnered a nice little fortune before Edward IV's sudden death in 1483. A few weeks later, her marriage to Edward was declared bigamous, due to a previously unknown contract between Edward and Lady Eleanor Butler. All her children, including the boy-king, Edward V and his brother Richard, Duke of York, were declared illegitimate. Richard III seized the throne.
I hope you followed all that. It can appear a bit complicated. Now look at it with a writer's eye and there are plot conflicts aplenty. I especially like the legend about Anne escaping to the cookhouse. In reality, the confusion about the fate of the two young princes in the Tower, provided Henry VII with numerous headaches when Lambert Simnel and Perkin Warbeck turned up proclaiming themselves to be Richard, the young Duke of York. At one point, the threat from Warbeck was so serious that Henry VII sent his Queen and the young Henry VIII into sanctuary at Westminster, part of the reason I believe Henry was so determined to have an undisputed male heir. And what makes this history chime so stridently today, and I mean today, Sunday August 22nd? Because the Battle of Bosworth Field and the day the Tudor era began with Henry VII winning the crown was exactly 525 years ago.
Think what mayhem I can bring to Henry VIII's fictional son by Anne Boleyn, simply by visiting history and playing 'what-if'.
So, what is it about the history that is so beguiling for a writer of mysteries? Let me give you an example. At the moment, I am considering the lives of two powerful women, both Queens of England and both, not that well known. The first is Elizabeth Woodville, Queen to King Edward IV, the second Anne Neville, Queen to Edward's brother, Richard III, or, as Eric Morecambe used to call him Richard the hundredth and eleventh. The two women had a lot in common. They were married to brothers, both were second wives, both were quite strong characters who influenced their husbands. Anne was daughter to Richard, Duke of Warwick, known as Warwick the Kingmaker. Her sister was married to another brother, George, Duke of Clarence - still with me??
When Anne's first husband died, George took her into 'protective custody', which is another way of saying he wanted his hands on the entire Neville fortune and with one sister as his wife and the other as his ward, this was the easiest way to get it. Now enter Richard of York, later Richard III. Anne escaped from George and, legend has it, sought refuge in a cookshop disguised as a servant. Richard tracked her down and escorted her to sanctuary, so that George could not get his hands on her. A year later, Anne and Richard were married. He was said to be distraught when she died 15 years later. A few months after her death, Henry Tudor defeated Richard at the battle of Bosworth Field, declared himself Henry VII and promptly married Edward IV's daughter by Elizabeth Woodville. They were the parents of Henry VIII.
Elizabeth herself had no easy ride. She was said to be the most beautiful woman in England with heavy-lidded eyes 'like a dragon' - which just shows how standards of beauty have changed. She was the mother of ten, including the Princes in the Tower. Rapaciously ambitious for her family, she garnered a nice little fortune before Edward IV's sudden death in 1483. A few weeks later, her marriage to Edward was declared bigamous, due to a previously unknown contract between Edward and Lady Eleanor Butler. All her children, including the boy-king, Edward V and his brother Richard, Duke of York, were declared illegitimate. Richard III seized the throne.
I hope you followed all that. It can appear a bit complicated. Now look at it with a writer's eye and there are plot conflicts aplenty. I especially like the legend about Anne escaping to the cookhouse. In reality, the confusion about the fate of the two young princes in the Tower, provided Henry VII with numerous headaches when Lambert Simnel and Perkin Warbeck turned up proclaiming themselves to be Richard, the young Duke of York. At one point, the threat from Warbeck was so serious that Henry VII sent his Queen and the young Henry VIII into sanctuary at Westminster, part of the reason I believe Henry was so determined to have an undisputed male heir. And what makes this history chime so stridently today, and I mean today, Sunday August 22nd? Because the Battle of Bosworth Field and the day the Tudor era began with Henry VII winning the crown was exactly 525 years ago.
Think what mayhem I can bring to Henry VIII's fictional son by Anne Boleyn, simply by visiting history and playing 'what-if'.
Friday, 20 August 2010
How to change the past
When you are writing a book set in an alternate history, changing the past is simply a matter of your imagination. Being a bit of a perfectionist, I like to keep the history behind the new series of Luke Ballard novels, as much as possible true. It isn't just that it's easier to do that, but more because in some ways, you can pass off explanations of true events as things pertinent to your story. Having an enormous love of history, especially the Tudors, it also has a lot to do with respect.
Although in my books Anne Boleyn is still alive in 1550/51, the way she became Henry VIII's second wife is as it actually happened. Queen Katherine of Aragon's marriage to Henry was declared invalid and he married Anne, who gave him Elizabeth in September 1533 and, in my world, Henry in July 1534. I dispose of Jane Seymour in a few sentences by suggesting that Thomas Cromwell tried to dangle her in front of the King and failed. Anne bides her time before ensuring his downfall. Thus far, I have not included Archbishop Thomas Cranmer, but he is lurking and will, I think, make his appearance in the current book. So, as far as I can, all historical details before 1547 when Henry VIII dies are as accurate as my world can make them.
What is really interesting for the writer of such a world, though, is that, as my thinking progresses on the second book, I see the need to change a few things in the first book, so as to make the transition between Duty of Evil and Treasons, Stratagems & Spoils smoother. So, this weekend, I shall be making those small changes and getting my new writing cabin, The Word Shed, up and running. With the first chapter now safely under my belt, I can relax into the story, see the characters in the setting of Hampton Court, play with ideas and let my fingers rattle over the keys. 3000 words down. Only another 87,000 to go. Bring it on.
Although in my books Anne Boleyn is still alive in 1550/51, the way she became Henry VIII's second wife is as it actually happened. Queen Katherine of Aragon's marriage to Henry was declared invalid and he married Anne, who gave him Elizabeth in September 1533 and, in my world, Henry in July 1534. I dispose of Jane Seymour in a few sentences by suggesting that Thomas Cromwell tried to dangle her in front of the King and failed. Anne bides her time before ensuring his downfall. Thus far, I have not included Archbishop Thomas Cranmer, but he is lurking and will, I think, make his appearance in the current book. So, as far as I can, all historical details before 1547 when Henry VIII dies are as accurate as my world can make them.
What is really interesting for the writer of such a world, though, is that, as my thinking progresses on the second book, I see the need to change a few things in the first book, so as to make the transition between Duty of Evil and Treasons, Stratagems & Spoils smoother. So, this weekend, I shall be making those small changes and getting my new writing cabin, The Word Shed, up and running. With the first chapter now safely under my belt, I can relax into the story, see the characters in the setting of Hampton Court, play with ideas and let my fingers rattle over the keys. 3000 words down. Only another 87,000 to go. Bring it on.
Thursday, 19 August 2010
In the beginning...
I've always loved the fantasy crime stories of Randall Garrett, sadly only published in the US. I managed to get all the Lord Darcy novels about 12 years ago from a second hand bookshop in Tucson. However, whilst I loved the setting and the characters, the writing sometimes annoyed me as did the fact that I could spot the perpetrator 8 times out of 10. With a love of English history, especially the Tudor era and an addiction to crime novels, it seemed natural that I would want to match the one with the other. Then Lord Darcy tapped me on the shoulder and I just had to add an element of magic.
I say an element of magic, because my protagonist is Luke Ballard,apothecary and elemancer, working in the Outer Green of Hampton Court Palace - for those of you who know it, Luke's house and shop are roughly where the ticket office is today. Elemancers perform magic using the power of the elements. To aid them, each elemancer has a greyspring - a greyhound crossed with a springer spaniel. Greysprings are the only breed sensitive enough to know when their elemancer is going into a trance and they provide protection until the trance is over. The arch enemies of elemancers are sunderers, usually elemancers turned bad. They feed off chaos and strife and do their utmost to upset the balance of the universe.
The history is a little skewed, too. In my Tudor world, Queen Anne Boleyn did not miscarry her boy child in 1534 and he is now Henry IX. I have taken the witchcraft accusations thrown at Anne and made her an elemancer, too.
'Duty of Evil', the first book in the series, is almost ready for sending out into the cold world of agents and publishers. England is the prize and the life of the new young King is the price. Luke must use all his medical and magic skills to find the traitors and bring them to justice and he must do it in secret.
Treasons, Stratagems & Spoils is the second book in the Luke Ballard series. I have plenty of ideas, lots of scribbled notes and quite a bit of research, but this blog is to share the trials and tribulations of writing what I know will turn out to be a complicated and twisting plot. Come on the journey with me. Keep me company and keep my nose to the grindstone. Please.
I say an element of magic, because my protagonist is Luke Ballard,apothecary and elemancer, working in the Outer Green of Hampton Court Palace - for those of you who know it, Luke's house and shop are roughly where the ticket office is today. Elemancers perform magic using the power of the elements. To aid them, each elemancer has a greyspring - a greyhound crossed with a springer spaniel. Greysprings are the only breed sensitive enough to know when their elemancer is going into a trance and they provide protection until the trance is over. The arch enemies of elemancers are sunderers, usually elemancers turned bad. They feed off chaos and strife and do their utmost to upset the balance of the universe.
The history is a little skewed, too. In my Tudor world, Queen Anne Boleyn did not miscarry her boy child in 1534 and he is now Henry IX. I have taken the witchcraft accusations thrown at Anne and made her an elemancer, too.
'Duty of Evil', the first book in the series, is almost ready for sending out into the cold world of agents and publishers. England is the prize and the life of the new young King is the price. Luke must use all his medical and magic skills to find the traitors and bring them to justice and he must do it in secret.
Treasons, Stratagems & Spoils is the second book in the Luke Ballard series. I have plenty of ideas, lots of scribbled notes and quite a bit of research, but this blog is to share the trials and tribulations of writing what I know will turn out to be a complicated and twisting plot. Come on the journey with me. Keep me company and keep my nose to the grindstone. Please.
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