Thursday, 31 March 2022

A stirring world (3)

 

Norham castle, near Berwick-upon-Tweed

In autumn 1593 Robert Carey, cousin to Elizabeth I and deputy warden of the English West March, found himself in a tight spot. He had pursued two Scottish murderers to a certain tower near Carlisle, only to find himself confronted by a small army of four hundred Scottish cavalry. These men were riders or 'Reivers', who had galloped over the border to rescue their kin from Carey's justice.

Carey described this episode in his memoir, written many years later. The English borderers, gathered under his banner, pleaded with him to let them attack the Scots. He quotes their speech:

'Sir, give us leave to set upon them, for these are they that have killed our fathers, our brothers, our uncles and our cousins, and they are come thinking to surprise you, upon weak grass nags, such as they could get on a sudden, and God hath put them into your hands, that we may take revenge upon them for much blood that they have spilt of ours'.

Carey had no desire to trigger a bloodbath. He asked his men to be patient awhile, while he thought of some alternative. In the end, in his own words, he decided 'to give them [the English] a fair answer, but not their desire'.

Thus, he told the English borderers that if he was not there himself, they would be free to spill as much blood as they pleased. However, since he was there, acting as the Queen's representative, it would lie heavy on his conscience to permit so much killing. Therefore he begged them to have a little forbearance. If, in good time, the Scots still refused to withdraw, then they could have their battle.

The borderers were displeased with this answer, but reluctantly obeyed. Carey then sent a messenger to the Scots, who advised them to 'back away with all the speed they could, for if they stayed the messenger's return, they should few of them return to their own home'.

No doubt much to Carey's relief, the Scots turned about and rode back to their own country. This was only sensible: the English borderers, reinforced by Carlisle militia, outnumbered them at least two to one. Carey was not slow in congratulating himself for this piece of work:

'Thus by God's mercy I escaped a great danger, and by my means there was a great many men's lives saved that day'.

Carey's next adventure on the Border occured on the opposite side, the East March, where he was made Deputy Warden after the death of the previous incumbent, Sir John Selby. Lord Hunsdon, Carey's father, secured the post for his son on condition that Carey also took possession of Norham castle. This was held by his brother, whom Carey was obliged to pay a hundred pounds per annum for the captaincy. As he notes sourly in his memoir, Carey was also obliged to pay his greedy sibling the interest on a separate lease worth six hundred pounds a year. 

Once the money matters were settled, Carey took up his new position. His first action was to contact Sir Robert Kerr, the Scottish Warden of the opposite March, and ask to meet at some quiet spot where they could discuss the affairs of the border. Kerr replied that he would be delighted.

So far, so good. Little did Carey know what Kerr had in mind.



Prince Dafydd on pre-order

The Rise & Fall of Dafydd ap Gruffudd, Prince of Wales, is now available on eBook pre-order, release date 1 June. Amazon do not allow pre-orders for hard copy, but the paperback will be available on the same date.


This is a relatively short non-academic biography of Dafydd: as such there are no footnotes/endnotes. It will include maps and a bibliography. Link to pre-order below on Amazon US and UK below.

“Upon my life, I was never able to lose a tear for that worthless man.”

Dafydd ap Gruffudd, Prince of Wales in the late 13th century, is one of the most controversial figures in Welsh history. A younger brother of Prince Llywelyn, remembered in Wales as Ein Llyw Olaf – our last prince – Dafydd has traditionally been viewed as a treacherous, shifty character, who betrayed his country for the sake of personal gain. His actions helped to bring about the final conquest of Wales, when King Edward I of England destroyed the ruling house of Aberffraw and 'threw all Wales to the ground'.

The real Dafydd was a complex personality, and to date there has been little attempt to tell his side of the story. As a young man he was sidelined by his brothers, Llywelyn and Owain Goch, expected to play only a minor role in Welsh affairs. Dafydd, however, was unwilling to be their subordinate. Deprived of his inheritance, he did whatever it took to recover his rights. To that end, like many Welsh princes before him, Dafydd forged an alliance with the English crown.

After nineteen years in English service, he performed an astonishing about-face and threw in his lot with Llywelyn. United at last, the brothers staged a last desperate attempt to throw off Edward's power. The effort failed, crushed by the superior resources of England, and Dafydd was left to face the wrath of his former paymaster. Captured by men of his own tongue, he was subjected to an especially gruesome execution at Shrewsbury. Afterwards his limbs were put on display in English towns, and his children incarcerated for life.

Future generations of Welsh historians had little good to say of Dafydd. Condemned as 'worthless', 'the last and weakest of his line', 'Llywelyn's evil genius' and a 'restless, discontented, shiftless schemer', he deserves reappraisal. This short overview of his career casts fresh light on a difficult, perhaps unknowable man who did his best to endure and prosper in an exceptionally turbulent era.

The Rise & Fall of Dafydd ap Gruffudd, Prince of Wales is by David Pilling, author of Edward I and Wales and Rebellion Against Henry III: The Disinherited Montfortians 1265-1274. Pilling is also the author of Leader of Battles, Caesar's Sword, The Champion, Longsword, Reiver and many other works of historical and fantasy fiction.


Amazon US 

Amazon UK




Tuesday, 29 March 2022

The whole land was waste

 

Brut y Tywysogion (Chronicle of the Princes) contains a lengthy account of a battle fought near Aberystwyth in March 1116. It was triggered by Gruffydd ap Rhys (c.1093-1137), father of the Lord Rhys of Deheubarth, and seems to have been an attempt to expand into Norman-held territory. Or, depending on one's perspective, to reclaim territory snatched by the Normans.

The account is detailed, perhaps written by an eyewitness. It commences with Gruffydd and his uncle, Rhydderch, attacking Blaenporth and its castle in southern Ceredigion. Gruffydd then marched north with his followers into Penweddig, where they burned Ystrad Peithyll castle. After this they camped at Glasgrug and plundered the religious house at Llanbadarn Fawr.

Gruffydd's chief target was the castle of Aberystwyth. This was held by Ralf, a Norman constable who had also held the castle at Ystrad Peithyll. Or he did, until Gruffydd burnt it. Ralf, 'in wrath at his loss', sent gallopers under cover of night to ask for help from the Norman garrison at Ystrad Meurig. They obligingly sent reinforcements.

The next day Gruffydd launched his assault. What followed is a convincingly messy, almost farcical encounter in which neither side really knew what they were doing. To quote the Brut:

'On the following day Gruffydd ap Rhys and Rhydderch, his uncle, along with him and his sons, Maredudd and Owain, arose and did not draw up or arrange their force aright save for placing the standards in the van; and like a furious rabble without a ruler over them they made their way towards the castle of Aberystwyth'.

The annalist was clearly unimpressed with the deployment and leadership of the Welsh army. Meanwhile Ralf had posted archers on the opposite bank of the River Ystwyth, to take pot-shots at the Welsh as they milled about on the other side. When they saw the bowmen, some of Gruffydd's men broke ranks and charged.

If the Welsh were showing lamentable discipline, the Normans weren't much better. One of Ralf's knights disobeyed orders and galloped down to attack the Welsh pouring over the bridge. They killed his horse and dragged down the rider, but were unable to pierce his mail before another Norman managed to pull him to safety. This triggered panic among the rest of the Normans, who turned their backs and fled.

The Welsh gave chase, only to blunder into the Norman rearguard, stationed on the brow of a hill. These men apparently swooped down to attack their own comrades – presumably to punish them for running away – as well as Gruffydd's men. The end result was utter chaos, as the scattered survivors of both armies took to wasting the countryside:

'And then all the inhabitants of the land were dispersed throughout the lands nearest them, some with their animals with them, others having left all their chattels without care for aught save they should find protection for their lives, so that the whole land was waste'.


Eventually Gruffydd ap Rhys found himself wandering about on his lonesome, so decided to call it a day. The Brut account ends on a pithy note:

'And Gruffudd ap Rhys fled to Ystrad Tywi, for that was a wild place'.


Special guest post by Judith Arnopp, author of A Matter of Conscience: Henry VII - The Aragon Years

 


Tell us about your latest book 

I’ve had some hiccups with the current wip. Usually, I manage to get a book out a year but what with Covid etc. this one is running late. It is the second of my Henrician Trilogy. Written in the voice of Henry VIII, the story we all know and love emerges quite differently. It isn’t always comfortable living with Henry in your head but I will miss him when he leaves. Book one: A Matter of Conscience: Henry VIII, the Aragon Years has been well received and readers are drumming their fingers waiting for book two, but I am working hard now, making up for lost time.



What is your preferred writing routine? 


My main priority is finding time to sit down and write without interruption. Once I have typed a few words I am away, the hard thing is beginning. It doesn’t always happen these days but I like to work in the mornings when I am most alert, then in the afternoon I garden, or sew, or go to the beach depending on the weather. I live on the Welsh coast, so I like to take my research books onto the cliff and give everyone the impression I am working – lol.


What advice do you have for aspiring writers? 


You must be 100% certain that you are beginning the book you want to finish. Before you are done there will be times when you wish you hadn’t started.


Research everything your character would have heard, smelled, touched, and then start to think of them as people – warts an’ all. Try not to make them too nice, or too nasty, it is better to have a mix of both, that way they will seem real.


Don’t expect your first book to be a bestseller – or your sixth for that matter. When we write our first novel, we are totally in love with it and excited to be authors. It can be hard to realise that other people aren’t particularly bothered. My first novel remains unpublished. I keep it to remind myself how terrible it is and how much my writing has improved. I am proud of it but it has many errors.


Do not skimp on editing. Find a way to afford a decent editor, but don’t be ripped off either. Get recommendations from other authors, there are reasonably priced, very competent editors out there. You can learn to do everything else yourself but an author is blind to errors in their own writing. There is nothing worse than buying a novel with a lovely professional cover and then finding multitudinous errors in the text.


Always strive to be better than your last book.



What have you found to be the best way to raise awareness of your books? 


Oh, this is hard, especially is you are self-published. People seem to assume that self-published authors are sub-standard in some way but this is not true. I find just as many typos and bad grammar in traditionally published books.


Marketing is a minefield for new authors, especially as they are usually in a hurry to be ‘seen.’ I find the best response come via Twitter, the writing community is supportive and generous. If you tweet their post, they will return the compliment.


Good promotional images are important, you can do these yourself for free on sites like Book Brush and I set up tweets in advance, using Hootsuite. I very rarely pay for promotion, it eats into your profit and, in my experience, has negligible effect. I promote a lot of authors on my blog and via twitter and my Facebook page – word of mouth is the best way but it is slow and can be frustrating.


We all suffer from imposter syndrome and sometimes feel like giving up but if you are a dyed in the wool author, you will carry on regardless. If, like me, you are shy to the point that even interaction on social media is difficult it is just a case of gritting your teeth and pretending to be an extravert.


My readers are invaluable, they support me by telling their friends about my books, going into shops and asking if they have my books on the shelf and if not, why not. Every day, I have emails from readers saying how much they like my work, how it has helped them during tough times. This encourages me to keep going. I can never repay them for that or thank them enough.


Tell us something unexpected you discovered during your research 


When I was at university my studies included monastic history. Until then I’d only ever seen nuns represented as living an impoverished yet gentle lifestyle. My studies however revealed that not all nuns lived in fabulous religious houses, most were small, and some were positively primitive. Years later when I came to write Sisters of Arden – set during the Pilgrimage of Grace – I remembered the nuns of Arden I had read about and focused the novel lightly on them.

The nuns at Arden were a group of half-starved women living on the edge of civilisation, closed off from the world, from family and friends and all comforts. Assisted by just a few servants, the women undertook all manual work themselves, caring for livestock, cooking, cleaning, nursing … everything. Even today, with the luxuries of glazing and heating, life in rural North Yorkshire can be hard; in 1536 it was extreme.

At the time of dissolution there were just six sisters at Arden, three of whom received pensions of twenty shillings each, two of ten shillings and one six shillings and eightpence. Sister Elizabeth Johnson, who was an octogenarian with limited hearing was granted forty shillings ‘toward her sustenance.’

The church ‘treasure’ that the king’s men seized when the house was dissolved consisted of a gilt chalice weighing 14.5 oz and a flat piece of white silver weighing 8oz, and two bells valued at ten shillings. According to the ‘Valor Ecclesiasticus’ the value of Arden in 1536 was £12. 0s and 6d. It is noted that the nuns also had an image of St Brigid to whom they made offerings for cows that were ill or had strayed.

This points to a reality vastly different to the reports circulated in 1536, tales of corruption and ungodliness. Motivated by his favour of the new learning, Cromwell and his men put forward stories of nuns indulging in sexual misconduct with monks, murdering their own infants, enjoying lewd and promiscuous lives. Even if they had the inclination, I would be surprised if the nuns of Arden found either the time or the energy for such practices.


What was the hardest scene you remember writing? 


Considering my choice of era, you might think I’d be accustomed to writing about death by now. My characters are always popping their clogs, either in battle, childbirth, or execution. The death of Elizabeth of York and its impact on the young Henry (later VIII) was particularly difficult to write in A Song of Sixpence but I think the most gut wrenching was in one of my earlier books, The Song of Heledd. I can’t go into too much detail without revealing a huge spoiler. Needless to say, I struggled with the first draft, deleted it, and rewrote it again, this time imaging it was one of my own sisters suffering and I was Heledd offering the only help I could, which in the end didn’t prove much help at all. I don’t cry very often, I am not an over-emotional type but boy, did I cry when I wrote that scene. I wanted to hug all my sister afterwards, but they live too far away.


What are you planning to write next?


I’ve just submitted a top secret, non-fiction manuscript to the publisher which I hope won’t be sent back with red pen all through it. While I wait for it to be returned, I am busily catching up with A Matter of Faith, book two of The Henrician Chronicle. It has been going rather well for the last month or so and if I keep it up, I will soon be back on track with it. It is just a case of gluing my bum to the chair.



Mybook.to/amoc


A lifelong history enthusiast and avid reader, Judith holds a BA in English/Creative writing and an MA in Medieval Studies.

She lives on the coast of West Wales where she writes both fiction and non-fiction based in the Medieval and Tudor period. Her main focus is on the perspective of historical women but more recently is writing from the perspective of Henry VIII himself.

Her novels include:

A Matter of Conscience: Henry VIII: the Aragon Years

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

Sisters of Arden: on the Pilgrimage of Grace

The Beaufort Bride: Book one of The Beaufort Chronicle

The Beaufort Woman: Book two of The Beaufort Chronicle

The King’s Mother: Book three of The Beaufort Chronicle

The Winchester Goose: at the Court of Henry VIII

A Song of Sixpence: the story of Elizabeth of York

Intractable Heart: the story of Katheryn Parr

The Kiss of the Concubine: a story of Anne Boleyn

The Song of Heledd

The Forest Dwellers

Peaceweaver


Judith is also a founder member of a re-enactment group called The Fyne Companye of Cambria and makes historical garments both for the group and others. She is not professionally trained but through trial, error and determination has learned how to make authentic looking, if not strictly HA, clothing. You can find her group Tudor Handmaid on Facebook. You can also find her on Twitter and Instagram.

Webpage: www.judithmarnopp.com

Author page: author.to/juditharnoppbooks

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



Monday, 28 March 2022

A stirring world (2)


Smailholm, a classic Border 'pele tower'

 In 1593, after 'two winters and a summer at court', Elizabeth I's cousin went north to the turbulent Scots border. He had been invited by his brother-in-law, Lord Scrope, to act as deputy Warden of the West March.

To a soldier-adventurer such as Carey, this was an ideal opportunity. Bored to blazes at court, he seized upon the chance to play lawman on the wild and wooly frontier, where the (in)famous Border Reivers reigned supreme. These closely related gangs, the Charltons and Scotts and Robsons and Armstrongs and so forth, ran a vast criminal network of bribery, violence and exortion that ran from end of the border to the other. They were ennobled in 'Border ballads' such as Kinmont Willie and the Guid Graham, a corpus of folk songs later compiled by Sir Walter Scott, himself a descendent of a notorious Reiver family.

In reality, the Reivers were a public menace, bloodthirsty gangsters who imposed a reign of terror on the borderlands. The term 'blackmail' - money with menaces - originates from them. These not-so-romantic heroes also tended to pick on soft targets, isolated farms and the like, to rob and murder people who couldn't fight back.

The wardens of the Marches had the thankless task of hunting down these rogues and bringing them to justice - or 'Jedburgh justice', meaning to punish first and ask questions later. Carey's memoir contains several dramatic anecdotes of his adventures in the West March. One especially 'memorable thing of God's memory', as he called it, was triggered by a murder in Scotland. To quote the man himself:

'I had private intelligence given me that there were two Scottish men that had killed a churchman in Scotland, and were by one of the Greenes relieved. This Greene dwelt within five miles of Carlisle: he had a pretty house, and close by it a strong tower for his own defence in time of need'.

In other words, two Scotsmen had committed a murder in their own country, then fled over the border to take refuge with the Greenes, probably their kin. Carey got wind of this and decided to tackle the murderers in their lair:

'I thought to surprise the Scots on a sudden, and about two o'clock in the morning I took horse in Carlisle, and not above twenty-five in my company, thinking to surprise the house of a sudden'.

Before he could surround the house, the two Scots were bundled into the strong tower. Carey then spotted a boy riding away from the house at the gallop, but little suspected what it meant. Thomas Carleton, one of the English Borderers in his company, warned him that if Carey did not take action, they would soon all be killed or taken prisoner:

"Do you see that boy that rideth away so fast?" said Carleton. "He will be in Scotland within this half hour, and he is gone to let them know you are here, and to what end you are come, and the small number you have with you, and that if they will make haste, on a sudden they may surprise us, and do with us what they please."

Carey was being given a sharp lesson in Border gangland warfare. He was wise enough to take advice, and sent off gallopers to raise the militia of Carlisle. They responded quickly, and after 'some hours' Carey's little band had been swelled by over eight hundred town and country men. A few of these brave souls offered to clamber to the top of the tower, break open the roof and drop inside to drive out the Scots. This, apparently, was the approved method of storming a 'pele tower' on the Border.

At that moment, however, riders were spotted on the horizon. A band of Scottish horse had come to rescue their friends trapped in the tower:

'...we might see four hundred horse within a quarter of a mile coming to their rescue, and to surprise me and my small company.'

Carey, it is fair to say, was in a tight spot.


Sunday, 27 March 2022

A stirring world (1)

Robert Carey (1560-1639) was the youngest son of Henry Carey, Lord Hunsdon, Lord Chamberlain to Elizabeth I. Hunsdon was a possible bastard son of Henry VIII by Mary Boleyn, sister to the famous Anne. Thus, Robert was cousin to Queen Bess.

He was also the living embodiment of the Elizabethan gentleman-adventurer, dashing Boy's Own heroes who might have leaped from the pages of some unlikely romance. An active soldier and diplomat, Robert took part in the attempt to relieve Sluys in 1587, and in the following years served as a volunteer against the Spanish Armada. In 1591 he commanded a regiment in the Earl of Essex's expedition to Normandy in support of the Protestant Henry IV of France. He was knighted by Essex in the same year. 

The queen was fond of her dashing cousin, but disapproved of his marriage to Elizabeth Trevannion. This, as Robert admitted in his memoir, was probably due to his spouse's lack of wealth: 

'Not long after this I married a gentlewoman more for her worth than her wealth, for her estate was but five hundred pounds a year jointure, and she had between five and six hundred pounds in her purse.” 

Robert himself was not exactly flush with cash: 

'Neither did she marry me for any great wealth, for I had in all the world, but one hundred pounds a year pension out of the exchequer, and that was but during pleasure, and I was near a thousand pounds in debt; besides the Queen was mightily offended with me for marrying...' 

In short, he had made a bad match. Yet the marriage was a long and happy one, and the couple prospered. Robert's wife later became a lady in waiting to Anne of Denmark, wife of James VI and I. She was also put in charge of the early training of the future Charles I, whom she taught to walk and talk. 

Aside from domestic bliss, Robert's life at the Elizabethan court was one of action and public service; of embassies abroad, military service against the Dutch or French, or against the Armada, and an endless riot of masques and balls and jousts. Despite his chronic lack of funds, Robert was in his element: 

'I lived in court, had small means of my friends, yet God so blessed me that I was ever able to keep company with the best; in all triumphs I was one; either at tilt, tourney or barriers; in mask or balls; I kept men and horses far above my rank, and so continued a long time'. 

The queen, being a practical sort, wanted to make use of her dazzling cousin, before he drank and danced and gambled himself to death. In 1591 Carey was sent up to the turbulent Scots border, where he served as deputy Warden of the West March to his brother-in-law, Lord Scrope. 

This was the era of the famous Border Reivers, criminal gangs that plagued the marches of England and Scotland. To play lawman in this hellish region – a sort of proto-Wild West – required nerves of steel and a devil-may-care attitude towards life. As such it was perfect for Carey, who had grown very bored at court. He wrote in his memoir: 

'Thus, after I had passed my best time in court, and got little, I betook myself to the country, after I was past one and thirty years old, where I lived with great content; for we had a stirring world, and few days passed over my head but I was on horseback, either to prevent mischief, or to take malefactors, and bring the border in better quiet than it had been in times past'.

Robert's first act on the border, which he described with typical eloquence as 'one memorable thing of God's mercy', was to investigate a murder.


Saturday, 26 March 2022

Drink thy blood, Beaumanoir


"Drink thy blood, Beaumanoir, thy thirst will pass."

This is a quote from the Combat of the Thirty, a famous chivalric bloodbath that took place on this day in 1351. When one of the combatants, Jean de Beaumanoir, called for water to ease his perishing thirst, he was told by one of his men to sup on his own blood. There was plenty of the stuff, after all, flowing from his many wounds.

The reasons for the Combat are somewhat obscure. It was a staged battle between thirty picked knights on either side, fought in Brittany during the War of the Breton Succession. The challenge was formally issued by Beaumonoir, a captain of Charles of Blois supported by Philip VI of France, to Robert Bembrough, a captain of Jean de Montfort supported by Edward III of England.

Everything was properly arranged. There were stands for spectators, food and drinks laid on, along with (presumably) rolls of bandages and a handy priest to shrive the dead. Such formally organised combats were not uncommon, but for some reason this one caught the imagination of poets and chroniclers. The main source is Jean de Froissart, that lover of chivalric deeds of arms; the more brutal and bloody and essentially pointless, the better.

Froissart described the combat as an English vs French affair; in reality, the lists of names of the combatants reveal a mixture of Franco-Bretons and Anglo-Bretons, with a German or two. The fight itself was a brutal hacking and slashing melee, with two teams of men in full armour having at it with war hammers, swords, pole axes, daggers, maces and all the other butcher's tools that always make me shiver to look at. Froissart makes it sound rather like a medieval rugby match:

"Then one of them gave the signal and immediately they ran over and fought fiercely all in a pile."

Sophisticated stuff. At first Team England had the better of it, and managed to knock over four French for two English. After a short break for wine and plasters, and some encouraging words from their coaches, the slaughter resumed. A member of Team France then committed a foul, which somehow escaped the referre: he snuck round the back, got on a horse and galloped straight through Team England. In the ensuing chaos, Bembrough and eight of his men were butchered. No VAR in those days.

So the day ended with victory for Team France. One shouldn't sneer too much at these men - they were brave, if nothing else, and certainly had more guts than me (until they got ripped out). For better or worse, this is the sort of thing warriors have always done, from the days of Homer up until the present. And it was a great day out for the spectators. 



Friday, 25 March 2022

Broken on the wheel


The chronicles of Sweden record the hideous death of Alv Erlingsson in 1290: 

 '1290: Alff Aellingessun rotatus est in Helsinburg...' '

[…] Aluerus pyrata captus est et rota fractus apud Helsingæburgh…' 

The unfortunate victim was broken on the wheel – 'rotatus' – an especially nasty form of execution. This was the same Alv who had gone to England in 1286 to raise money and men for a campaign in Denmark. After Norway and Denmark made peace, he fought and lost a private war against Haakon, heir to the Norwegian throne. Alv escaped the slaughter and went to Sweden. When the Swedish king denied him refuge, Alv turned pirate and set about attacking merchant vessels in the Baltic sea. 

His brother, Theodore, had also begged Edward I of England to grant Alv refuge. This was evidently denied, and for good reason: Alv had stolen two thousand marks of English silver. The vengeful English king was probably just as eager as anyone to get his hands on the fugitive.

Alv established his pirate's nest on Riga. We know this due to a letter from the Grand Master of the Teutonic Knights in Livonia, who wrote to the German towns complaining that it was becoming more difficult to convert the locals to Christianity. This was due to the depredations of certain pirates, 'money-sick wolves', who were burning and slaughtering up and down the coast. They were led, said the Grand Master, by that man Alv Erlingsson, former jarl of Norway. 

Once a great lord, Alv was now a hunted outlaw, without friends. Finally he was captured by one David Thorstenson, lord of Dacia, who clearly had little time for pirates. The prisoner was taken up to a headland overlooking the sea, and there subjected to the barbaric form of execution. Alv's broken body was left dangling on the spot for two years, until his brother came to collect the remains. 

The story has a curious postscript. Alv had borrowed money from Edward so Norway could pay off war damages to the merchant towns of the Hanseatic League. After his execution, that money was never recovered. Perhaps he had spent it, or buried it somewhere. This meant Norway still owed the debt. In 1295, Norwegian envoys entered into an alliance with France and Scotland against England and Germany. 

This was the treaty known as the famous 'Auld Alliance'. As part of the terms, Norway offered to send the impossible number of 50,000 warriors and 200 longships to invade England. In return they asked for a down-payment of 6000 livres tournoise. Incredibly, the French paid over the money. The Norwegians then broke the treaty and used the cash to pay off the outstanding debt to the Hanseatic league. 

Thus, in one of the strange ironies of history, a key term of the Auld Alliance stemmed from a broken promise to Edward I.

Thursday, 24 March 2022

Case unresolved? Gwenllian and the battle of Cedweli


The battle of Cedweli in 1136 is the first conflict that appears in no contemporary Welsh source. The single account for the battle appears in the writings of Gerald of Wales (1146-1223), who was not even born at the time. His account reads:

'In these parts [of Cedweli], after King Henry the first had been removed from human affairs, whilst Gruffudd ap Rhys, then prince of South Wales, had gone to North Wales to gather help, his wife Gwendolen, like an Amazonian queen and a second Penthesilea, led an army into these parts; but by Maurice London, then the lord of this place, and that excellent man, Geoffrey the bishop's constable, warlikely prepared for battle, killed in that place her son Morgan, and captured another called Maelgwn, which boys she had arrogantly brought with her in expedition, with many others she herself was finally run through by a sword and decapitated'.


- Giraldus Cambrensis, Opera VI, pp78-79

What to make of this? Firstly, Gerald was writing of his own relatives: Gruffudd ap Rhys was his grand-uncle. While Gruffudd was away, his wife 'Gwendolen' or Gwenllian apparently led an army into the commote of Cedweli, where she was met and defeated by the Normans. She and her two sons were killed.

One might argue that Gerald would have known the history of his own family. However, it seems odd the battle is not mentioned in any of the existing Welsh chronicles. Even stranger, the demise of a Welsh queen and her sons are nowhere else described. A major defeat, resulting in the loss of three members of the royal house of Deheubarth, ought to have at least rated a mention in the Bruts or Annales Cambriae.

We do at least know that Gwenllian existed. She is briefly mentioned in the Life of her father, Gruffydd ap Cynan:

'Ae verchet oed Guenlliant, a maryet, a rainillt, a sussana ac annest'

[His daughters were Gwenllian, and Margaret, and Rhainillt, and Susanna and Annest]

The site of the battle is currently remembered in the field named Maes Gwenllian, less than two miles north-east of Kidwelly castle. This may be a relatively modern designation, intended to lend weight to Gerald's story. Nearby there is a 'battle cairn' or crescent-shaped earthwork, traditionally said to mark the burial place of Gwenllian and her sons. Again, when and how this tradition arose is unknown.

In summary, was there a battle or no? Without further evidence either way, it can only be: case unresolved.







Wednesday, 23 March 2022

Special guest post by Tony Riches, author of Essex: Tudor Rebel

 



ESSEX - Tudor Rebel (Book 2 of the Elizabethan Series)
🇺🇸 Amazon US: https://amazon.com/dp/B09246T7ZT
🇬🇧 Amazon UK: https://amazon.co.uk/dp/B09246T7ZT

Tell us about your latest book

Essex - Tudor Rebel is the second book of my Elizabethan series, and follows the story of Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex. A favourite of the queen, he was impetuous, irreverent, ambitious and charming. Some people suggest they were lovers, yet in truth he was more like the son Elizabeth never had. Elizabeth offered power, wealth, influence and status, while Robert’s attention made her feel young and attractive. The events leading up to his surprising ‘rebellion’ took a lot of research, but I believe my account is as factual as possible.

What is your preferred writing routine?

I’m an early riser and sometimes wake with entire passages of dialogue in my head which have to be written down. I write biographical fiction about the Tudors and Elizabethans, and over the years I’ve developed a system of writing one book a year. I research the person chosen for my next book during the summer, visiting actual locations and tracking down primary sources. I write throughout the autumn and winter, then send my book to my editor in the spring, for publication before the summer.


What advice do you have for aspiring writers?

If you can write just one page a day, that’s a book a year. It’s important to read the work of writers you admire, and learn from them.

What have you found to be the best way to raise awareness of your books?

Keep trying different things to reach new audiences. For example, I started a podcast, ‘Stories of the Tudors’ (https://tonyriches.podbean.com/) to talk about the research behind my books, and include excerpts from my audiobooks. (I’ve had over 156,000 downloads, which is encouraging.)

Tell us something unexpected you discovered during your research

When I was researching the early life of Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, I was amazed to find he lived for some years at Lamphey Palace, twenty minutes from my home in Pembrokeshire.

What was the hardest scene you remember writing?

I was saddened to write about the execution of Owen Tudor, after spending so long studying every detail of his life. When Owen was led out into the market place at Hereford, he hoped to be pardoned, until he saw the executioner, waiting with an axe.

What are you planning to write next?

The manuscript of my new book, Raleigh – Tudor Adventurer, the third book of my Elizabethan series, is with my editor and will be published before the summer. I am now researching three books about Queen Elizabeth’s Ladies-in-waiting. The three I’ve chosen are rarely mentioned, yet were present at many of the key events of the Elizabethan era, and their stories deserve to be told.


Tony Riches


About the Author


Tony Riches is a full-time UK author of best-selling historical fiction. He lives in Pembrokeshire, West Wales and is a specialist in the lives of the Tudors. He also runs the popular ‘Stories of the Tudors’ podcast, and posts book reviews, author interviews and guest posts at his blog, The Writing Desk. For more information about Tony’s books please visit his website tonyriches.com and find him on Facebook and Twitter @tonyriches


Links:


Blog: https://tonyriches.blogspot.com/


Website: https://www.tonyriches.com/


Podcast: https://tonyriches.podbean.com/


Twitter: https://twitter.com/tonyriches


Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tonyriches.author


Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tonyriches.author/


Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/tonyriches