Running a Tudor household

Have you ever made butter with your hands? Or cheese? How about bread and beer? I expect there will be a few more takers for the last two.

The other day I visited an open air museum near Chichester. Buildings from all centuries have been moved and rebuilt as they were originally. As research for the Luke Ballard books, it was invaluable. I stood inside the type of house Luke would have lived in. The hall and kitchen were one room and the other side of the downstairs was the 'living room'. In the Luke books, that area is Luke's apothecary shop. What made it all so real was that this particular house had a herbal/physick garden attached. By royal permission, Luke uses the gardens at Hampton Court Palace for his herbs etc., although he does like to collect other plants in the early dawn on a summer's day with his faithful greyspring, Joss, at his side. Now I am determined that Luke shall have his own herbal garden and that idea is spawning some interesting plot points.

The other very interesting attraction at the museum was a working Tudor kitchen. And now I do know how to make butter and cheese. I also know the Tudor housewife had a strict rotation of tasks to ensure that nothing at all was wasted, even the ashes from the bread oven fire. The housewife in a big house or on a farm would probably have to feed 30+ people every day, day in day out. And the work the men did was extremely physical, so a diet of around 6000 calories a day would be needed to keep their energy levels up.

Of course, some foods had to be preserved and salt was used for this. The 'cook' on duty showed us a pot of cheese that had been covered with a salt crust and although it was a bit high, she assured us that one year on from being made, the cheese was still edible. The family pig would be killed and every part of it would be consumed. It, too, was preserved in salt, usually in a brine that was 5oz salt to every pint of water - the usual test was that if an egg floated on the surface, the salt concentration was right. The salt used would be Bay Salt, evaporated from seawater and full of impurities, but preferred by housewives to white salt because it was a better for preserving - and cost a lot less. Pity the poor housewife whose task it was to rub great quantities of salt into meat.

When we read the word 'dairymaid', most people have an image of a sweet-faced ladylike maiden, but in truth, proper dairying was extremely hard work. Even in Tudor times, the necessity for the dairy and all the items used in it to be scrupulously clean was recognised. Many hours would be spent scrubbing walls, scalding vessels etc, because the risk of any dirt tainting the dairy produce not only rendered it a waste of resources, but dirt would stop some of the processes from working.

Fish was plentiful and did not need to be preserved. Indeed in the middle-ages a law was passed prohibiting masters from feeding their apprentices more than three times a week with salmon. How times change!

Having learned all this, I can see why Luke needs a housekeeper.

The lessons of history?

In the Luke Ballard series, I’m always torn between the real and the imagined. The real history of the mid 16th century has enough drama, conflict and excitement to rival anything I can conjure up. And, because Luke is an elemancer, who performs good magic using the power of the elements, I use the word ‘conjure’ on purpose.

I cannot agree with those who maintain that history is useless. If we don’t know where we have been, how can we know where we are headed? A study of history should, in theory, prevent mistakes being repeated. I’ve never forgotten a scene in David Niven’s “The Moon’s a Balloon”, where during a walk with Winston Churchill in November 1941, he asked what the great man thought would happen next.
“Whatever it is,’ Churchill replied, ‘it will be momentous.”
‘How do you know?’
‘Because, young man, I study history.’

Two weeks later, the Japanese invaded Pearl Harbour and America entered the war.

When you look back over the centuries of British history, one of the things that always amazes me is the blindness of power. The other day, I went to hear the historian, Alison Weir, talking about two English queens who have moved her to write. Eleanor of Aquitaine, wife of Henry II and Isabella of France, wife of Edward II.

Edward’s sexuality was questionable, to say the least. His first favourite, Piers Gaveston was so rapacious in gathering money and lands and so arrogant that he was eventually toppled by the nobles and executed. Fast forward a few years and Hugh le Despenser did exactly the same thing. He was hanged, drawn and quartered and castrated. Then Isabella began her notorious affair with Mortimer, fled to France with the future Edward III and the two lovers invaded England. Result, Edward II was deposed and Edward III who was about 13 at the time, was crowned king.

But in reality, Mortimer ruled England through Isabella and the boy king was merely a cipher. The lovers went on a vicious spree, accumulating lands and money by whatever means worked. How surprising then, that Edward III waited until he attained his majority and overthrew them. And yes, Mortimer was hanged. So why did none of them learn from the mistakes made by Gaveston? Would it have been perceived as a sign of weakness? Surely, getting all the nobles on their side would have strengthened their power, so why go down any other route?

Fast forward to 1989. Revolution is rife in Eastern Europe. Dictators are being challenged. Why could none of them see that their days were numbered and act accordingly? Why did they think they were invincible? Ceausescu could not believe that he no longer controlled the mob and when he did realize, it was too late.

A few months ago, Mubarak in Egypt thought exactly the same and Gaddafi is currently certain he will maintain his position in Libya. None of them can believe that their power days are over.

Perhaps they should have studied history.

The Lincolnshire Uprising

The rebellion that later became known as the Pilgrimage of Grace began in Lincolnshire in October 1536. Although the Lincolnshire bit fizzled out within a matter of days, the 'rebels' were in touch with Robert Aske north of the River Humber and their actions lit the blue touchpaper. Yorkshire rose and Henry VIII found he had a serious problem on his hands, one which he solved by lying, cheating and generally going back on his promises. No change there, then. Robert Aske, who was sure he had an understanding with the King ended his days hanging in chains from St Clifford's Tower in York and Henry's generals led by the Dukes of Suffolk and Norfolk then filled the gibbets from Hull to Cumberland. Henry wanted blood - especially monastic blood because it had more importance in the ritual sacrifice he demanded of his revolting peasants. In a way, you can understand him. Henry has been described as the "great European maverick". His forces were way outnumbered by the rebels, not to mention under-provisioned - where have I heard that recently??? He would probably not have won an outright battle and if he had cut and run, there were two huge problems. First, his overweening pride could not have endured the humiliation and second, nobody in Europe would touch him with a ten foot barge pole, so, nowhere to run to. It is a wonderful 'what-if' moment to think what might have happened had the rebels won. Henry would most likely have been deposed and Mary put on the throne. No Edward VI, no common prayer book and no authorised Bible.

But, it all began in Lincolnshire. Henry regarded the county as "one of the most brute and beastly (shires) in the whole realm". Obviously a bit peeved with us. Us? Yes. I was born in Lincolshire right in the middle of where the whole thing began. It began in Louth church. Rumour had it that the subsidy commissioners were coming to confiscate all the church treasures of silver. In fact, the uprising had two distinct grievances. The first was the threat of the removal of church treasures in the general dissolution of the monasteries and the second was the overtaxing of ordinary people who simply didn't have the money to pay more taxes. The rebels even dragged the Bishop of Lincoln's chancellor off his horse and "did him to death with staves". They imprisoned any 'Gentlemen" they met and made them swear a sacred oath to support the commons. Sir Thomas Heneage, who owned the estate in a small village called Hainton was sent by the rebels back to the King with a letter and he thus escaped their wrath. The Heneage family still lives in Hainton Hall. My father began his working life on the estate and I was born about 100 metres from its front gate.

The rebels were certain about one thing. They were not rebelling against their King. They believed that he was being misled by greedy ministers and heretical bishops. They wanted the government of the realm back in the hands of the King, not "evil" ministers like Thomas Cromwell and Archbishop Cranmer, who, they believed, were hell-bent on despoiling all the churches and monasteries in the land for their own use. Sadly the rebels completely misjudged their monarch. Cromwell and Cranmer did nothing without his authorisation and he was more than incandescent that "the commons", i.e. the common people, should presume to tell him what he could and couldn't do.

A mixture of threats and promises had the Lincolnshire men agreeing to disperse, in effect leaving the Yorkshire rebels on the other side of the Humber, without any policy and believing that the Lincolnshire men had been pardoned. Then someone on the Yorkshire bank revived the Mouldwarp legend and twisted it to make the ordinary people believe that Henry was the Mouldwarp, a tyrant foretold by Merlin. In Lincoln, Louth and Horncastle, 46 rebels were hanged and later rebellions in the West Country and East Anglia seem to suggest that, had the rebels not believed their perfidious King and stuck to their guns, then there would have been a nationwide groundswell of support for the Pilgrimage of Grace and our history might have been very different.