The Liebster Blog Award Challenge

I've been nominated by the very lovely, Karen Aminadra, author and very good friend. You can view her post here.

I always enjoy Karen's blog, she comes up with something new and interesting every time. It isn't always easy to drum up a large following and this is a great idea to help bloggers get a foot on the ladder.

The purpose of the Liebster Blog Award is to recognize blogs with fewer than 200 followers that deserve a look. My job is to list 11 random facts about me, answer the 11 set questions and then nominate 11 new bloggers, who I think deserve more notice.

If you are nominated below, post on your own blog linking back here, with 11 random facts about yourself, answer my 11 questions and nominate 11 new bloggers (and think of 11 questions to ask them - can be anything!).

Right then...  If you prefer you can just do the 11 random facts about yourself, and answer my questions but it would be good to keep the ball rolling, so find 11 other bloggers if you can.

Eleven random facts about me.

The view from my desk

1. I live in the middle of the Welsh countryside and I don't drive. So, apart from my  husband and two grown up sons and the members of my writing group, Cwrtnewydd Scribblers, 
sometimes the only other human being I see for weeks on end is the postman. This would drive most people crazy but at least there are no distractions from writing and researching. As mad as it seems, it is Facebook that keeps me sane.

2. I am afraid of nothing ...except spiders - regardless of size, they freak me out.

3. When I was at school (long, long ago) and studying Romeo and Juliet for my 'O' levels and for the school play, I became so engrossed in it that I handed in a history homework paper largely written in Shakespeare style language.

My Irish Wolfhound substitutes

4. I absolutely love Irish Wolfhounds but my husband is not mad keen on dogs so, as a sort of compromise, I have two Jack Russells.  The bitch is called Hero and is the biggest coward you ever saw in your life, the dog is called Bryn, which is Welsh for Hill because he loves to run all over them.

5. I was a secret writer for years, only letting a few people know. It wasn't until I went to university and my lecturers encouraged me that I began to let my work be read outside the family. At first I wrote short stories and poetry because I didn't believe I had the capacity for a full-length piece. I was very happy to be proved wrong.

6. I am chronically shy and have to really force myself to promote my own work. I hate public speaking and readings and try to avoid them whenever possible. I really need to improve my confidence.

7. I love fish. Not for dinner but in the water. One of the things I hate to watch on television are fishing programmes showing the poor creature dragged from his natural element for our enjoyment. I hate all blood sports.

8. I am the youngest of five siblings and was an aunt by the age of three, growing up as more of a sibling to my nieces and nephews than an aunt. I am also a great-great aunt - but no crocheted shawl about my shoulders as yet.

9. I have been a history nut since I was a child. A portrait of Richard III has hung in my room since I was a teenager, when he shared a wall with Freddie Mercury.

10. I love any chocolate. My preference is Greens and Browns but I will happily scoff any brand within reach.

Some of the gang

11. I am mother/stepmother to seven, four boys, three girls (happily grown up now) and we also foster.

The Questions set for me  by  Karen Aminadra.

1 - Do you speak another language?

Not really. I have a little bit of Welsh, a smattering of French words and a few sentences of Japanese that I use to impress people - although the only Japanese words I know are from the Queen song Teo Torriatte:

Teo torriatte konomama iko

Aisuruhito yo

Shizukana yoi ni

Hikario tomoshi

Itoshiki oshieo idaki

2 - Is there a place in the world that you've always wanted to visit?

There are plenty of places I'd like to visit but I really hate travelling so I tend to keep to the UK. For a number of years I've been trying to get to St Iltydd's church near Brecon which isn't far from me at all but things keep getting in my way and its not very far from here at all.

3 - If you could go back in time, when would you go to and why?

1483 to hang out with the princes in the tower and find out what really happened to them.

4 - If you could go back in time within your own lifetime, what would you do?  Would you change anything?

DAD

 I don't think I'd change anything apart from maybe go to university as a young person instead of waiting until I was 40. If I could go back, I'd like to walk with my Dad again in the New Forest, hold onto his hand really tight and try to keep him young. He is 93 now and his walking days are over - they were my happiest times. I have the best parents in the  universe.

5 - Which of the characters that you've written is your favourite and why?

I think King Harold in my first novel, Peaceweaver, is my favourite. It's hard not to fall in love with your characters sometimes. As the plot drew closer to the Battle of Hastings I grew sadder and sadder. It almost felt as if I'd slaughtered him myself - which I did in a way, I suppose.

6 - Is there someone whom you'd love to put into one of your novels and kill off? (I won't ask who, but can you tell us why?)

There are usually elements of people who have offended me in my nastier characters. it can be quite refreshing. I don't think I've killed any off though, I usually reform them. It's a control thing, in fiction I can turn someone around and make them how I wish they really were.

7 - Are you nostalgic?  What or when for?

Mum

My childhood. It seemed to be always summer then. Long summers of picnics, camping with my family - winters infront of a roaring fire with a pile of books and mum bringing in a tray of lunch. As I said before I had a lovely childhood and I've tried to give my own children a similar one. I think its harder today though, my parents didn't have to compete with tv and computer games.

8 - What was your favourite band/group/singer when you were growing up?

Queen. I loved (still love) Freddie Mercury. My claim to fame is that he smiled at me once. I was at the free concert in Hyde Park, was it in 1974? I forget. anyway, my friend and were hanging over the front barrier and during a lull I yelled out his name and he looked right at me and smiled. I have lived on that smile ever since.

9 - Who was your first kiss with?

First proper kiss? My first snog was with a boy called Liam who lived a few doors down from me. I wrote a poem about the first time a boy gave me a peck.

FIRST KISS

Our tent a splash
of urban orange in his meadow
where he was part of the landscape.
His eyes the green-brown shade of
cowpats in the splattered byre.
His rough-knit jumper smelled of hay.  
His wellies were mired to the knee while
mine, newly released from umbilical string, 

gleamed like Whitby jet.
He showed me a broody hen on her secret clutch,
a nest of pink-mouthed kittens
that snagged my cardigan with tiny hooked claws.
In the hay barn, where sunlight striped
the dusty dark, the bales were piled to the roof.
There, he became the king of my castle.
He held me, I closed my eyes.
A trail of spittle on my lips and

a taste of humbug.
Afterwards I was allowed only a glimpse
of his dirty neck, the crown of his windblown head.
When his mother’s brood of straw-haired children
surged from the kitchen to hug and kiss
with dirty hands and sticky faces,
I looked for his goodbye but … he was not there.
I felt his lack as, camping gear jolting,
the car nosed along the rutted track.

The farmhouse dwindled and
from the back seat window, I saw him
climbing the meadow gate, his hair a clump of windblown grass.

He stopped to look and raised his hand.

10 - Have you ever thought about writing in a different genre?  Which genre and why?

I have tried contemporary but I am really not at home there. I have no idea what it's like to work in a modern office or even how a mobile phone works. It might seem strange that I can write about Tudor times but not about the here and now but I am so out of touch with modernity I dont think I could pull it off. I could probably do the 1970 -80s with more success but I think I will stick to historical.

11 - What is the one thing in the world that you cannot live without?

John. He is my husband, partner, lover, best friend and I cannot imagine being without him and my kids. After them comes my computer and my books. I also have a flourishing relationship with my kindle.

My questions for the people I have nominated.

1. When you aren't blogging or writing what do you like to do best?

2. How did you become a writer?

3. Which 11 people from history would you invite to dinner and why?

4. Tell us about your favourite place and what makes it so special.

5. If  you were Prime Minister what would you change?

6. What did  you do before you had the internet? - if you were born then of course :)

7. What people have influenced you in your life?

8. Can you remember what you wanted to be when you were five years old?

9. If you were a character in a fictional classic, which would you choose to be?

10. Do you prefer wine or spirits, chocolate or cheese?

11. Of all the blog posts you have ever written which is your favourite and why. Put a link to it here.


 I nominate these people for The Liebster Award:

Sheila Dalton, Rachael Thomas, Judith Barrow, David Pilling, Helen Spring,  Lisa Yarde, Cas Peace,   Avis Lexley,
Jean Mead, Anna Belfrage

The Furore Surrounding The King in the Car park

You may notice it has taken me a few days to analyse my feelings about the recent dig at Leicester. Those of you who read my last post know that it was, and is, a hugely significant day for me. It has taken me this long to be able to don my objective historian head and present my feelings with some degree of detachment. 

In my pre-dig blog I shared how exciting it was to be able at last to sift some of the truth from rumour in Richard III’s story, how awesome I felt at being able to look on his face for the first time.

As always at such times I still feel very uneasy about his bones being disturbed but, since the deed is done, as a historian I could not but be interested in the outcome and, in the morning I watched the university announcement confirming that the bones were indeed Richard’s. It was a very well presented, interesting broadcast and hinted that the programme following in the evening would be in the same vein.

If there was one part of Richard’s story that I wanted to be false, it was the reported posthumous indignities heaped upon his corpse after the battle. I cannot really analyse why this was so important to me – probably simply because I don’t believe any man's corpse should be treated in such a way, let alone that of an anointed king. It was the unusual nature of such an attack that led it to be recorded in the first place. I hoped it was another fable.

When they examined the bones, pointing out the severity of the injuries, it was hard to look at the cleaved skull marking the death wound, the posthumous wounds that can only be described as spiteful. So, once I had come to terms with that, I thought I was prepared and began to look forward to what promised to be Channel four’s objective study of the exhumation and investigation into the bones.

I was sincerely disappointed.

It seems that an intelligent, detached examination of the events surrounding Richard’s reign will never happen. The presenter was Simon Farnaby, a buffoon, better placed in children’s television was not the proper person to conduct what, for many people, was a serious and rather sombre investigation. His self-indulgent aping of Shakespeare’s character of Richard was both inappropriate and poorly done. Without his input a lot more time could have been devoted to providing more balanced and scholarly views from the vast spectrum of historians available. 

It would be refreshing to watch a programme or read an article on the subject that doesn’t include Shakespeare but, since I am discussing him too, perhaps that isn’t possible. Perhaps Shakespeare can no longer be detached from Richard’s historiography. But, please, Shakespeare was a playwright, he did a fantastic job of presenting a study of a twisted, evil king but he wasn’t representing the real Richard. He was writing to entertain - both the public and his Tudor queen. 

A look at Shakespeare’s sources shows that he based his play on the findings of Thomas More – ‘a contemporary of Richard’s’ some say, ‘He should know.’  

But Thomas More was around the age of seven at the time of Bosworth, he was writing under the reign of Richard’s greatest enemy, Henry Tudor. And then, if you look at the life of Thomas More himself, you find a man whose crimes against humanity vastly outweigh anything that he accuses Richard of. You find a religious bigot who flailed, tortured and burned men alive – and was given a sainthood for it, whereas Richard received only notoriety.

Back to the programme. The King in the Car park. The historian they interviewed supported the view that Richard did have his nephews murdered. He made some fair points and is, as are we all, entitled to his opinions. But his opinion should have been balanced with one who rejected the idea. That is the way to good, educational television, balance and objectivity – television shouldn’t lead the public to a conclusion but, rather like a court of law, should present ALL the facts and let the viewer come to their own decision.

I found no problem with the scientific parts of the broadcast but, where I respect Philippa Langley for her tireless energy in putting the dig together and, badgering people to listen to the theory that Richard would be located at Grey Friars, she should never have appeared on the programme. I don’t think her emotional approach has done the Richard III society any favours. 

The society is often derided as over-emotional, over the top lovers of a child killing king and, although I have been a member of the society for many years, I have to admit that there are those who lack of detachment does damage the society’s reputation. Too many novels, either written by or to appease members, feature a Richard whose saintliness is almost as off-putting as Shakespeare’s villain.

As to the facial reconstruction, well, maybe I expected too much but I have seen some excellent work carried out in this area. While his muscle structure and the shape of his features may be precise, the cosmetic ‘top dressing’ (for want of a better phrase) is dreadful. I heard one detractor comment that the head resembles the diminutive Lord Farquard from Shrek and, reluctantly, I have to agree. Where I was expecting a revelation, I found Disney.

Richard was a hardened warrior, he would have been scarred, battle worn, lined. A thirty two year old in 1483-5 would not look like a man of the same age today. He would have appeared older, sterner and, I am sure, that during his years as king he never smiled in that odd whimsical manner. Remember he was dealing with the loss of his son and queen in quick succession, as well as the enormous pressures of kingship.

However, I am slipping into subjectivity myself.  

The main point I wanted to make is that since the dig, since the TV programme, the subject of Richard III has become a three ring circus. Everyone who has read a couple of books or seen a few videos or, worst of all, read a bit of Shakespeare, now think they are experts. I’ve been studying the man since 1973 and I’m not anywhere near becoming an expert. 

Why does the subject evoke so much passion, be it for or against? And it isn’t just the amateurs throwing objectivity out of the window; the big shots are at it too. 

The first thing I was taught as a historian was the importance of detachment, you should never allow your personal feelings or ‘hunches’ to impinge on your findings, yet, we have David Starkey, with his I LOVE HENRY slogan emblazoned on his chest, presenting mere supposition as facts. And he is not alone.

There is no proof that Richard murdered his nephews. There is no proof that Henry did either. There is only speculation. There is, as yet, no concrete evidence that the princes died in the tower at all. It doesn’t matter what side you fall on, all I ask is that people remember that.

Below, I have compiled a list of what we definitely know about Richard and what we suspect. The things we know are the ONLY things that can be presented as historical fact. I have compiled a similar list for Henry.

What we KNOW and SUSPECT about Richard III.

We know that until 1483 he was loyal, courageous in battle, pious, with strong family values.

We suspect that, on the orders of his brother the king, he may have been implicit in the death of Henry VI.

We know that, for whatever reason, he manoeuvred to become first protector and then king.

We know that his claim to the throne was solid.

We know that he intercepted the boy Edward on his way to London and took control from the Woodvilles.

We know that he ordered the beheading of William Hastings without trial.

We know that he showed unwise leniency toward other of his enemies, giving them the opportunity to turn against him later.

We know that he showed promise of being a good and just ruler.

We know that the princes were interred in the tower prior to the coronation (as was tradition)

We know that he was betrayed on the battle field.

We know that he died bravely.

We know that he was loved, particularly by the north. See the response of the residents of York at news of his death.

We suspect he had the princes put to death.

We suspect that he hastened his wife’s death with a view to marrying his niece, Elizabeth of York, to put her out of Henry’s reach and weaken his claim.

What we KNOW and SUSPECT about Henry Tudor.

We know that he lived his life in exile, putting in place a network of intrigue and espionage to undermine Richard’s rule.

We know that he challenged an anointed King.

We know that he subjected the corpse of that anointed king to unprecedented indignities.

We know that he dated his reign from the day before the battle so that Richard’s followers could be attainted for treason, executed and their lands forfeit to the crown.

We know that he ordered all copies of the Titulus Regius to be destroyed (the document that explained why the offspring of Edward IV's claim to the throne was invalid, and made Richard king).

We know that to strengthen his weak claim to the throne he married Elizabeth of York. In order to marry her he needed to legitimise her and in doing so also legitimised her brothers the princes (dead already or not).

We know that Henry and his successors carried out a campaign against remaining Plantagenets.

We know that he imposed crippling taxes.

The King and I

I was about thirteen years old when I fell in love with Richard III. In the early seventies the BBC showed a programme trying to solve historical  mysteries. I can't for the life of me remember the name of the series but it was a spin off from a detective show called Softly Softly and the episode I remember (the only one I remember) featured the mystery of the princes in the tower. 

I was immediately hooked and afterwards haunted the library, ordered books from remote libraries - we had no internet in those days - and read every scrap of material I could get my hands on. Richard was the subject of the project I wrote for my A level history exam. I also joined the Richard III society and read an awful lot of Ricardian fiction. My interest in history, my chosen career as a historical novelist all spring from that early interest in Richard. Although I haven't written much in that era myself, it remains a favourite period and I still read anything concerning him, fiction or non-fiction. As a girl, it was the fiction that helped me fall deeper in love with him. He was my hero and I couldn't get enough of it, as long as it was pro-Richard. A Daughter of Time (of course) Some Touch of Pity, Requiem for Richard, The Sunne In Splendour, We Speak No Treason - I read them all, more than once.

These days, forty years later, I am less romantically attached and slightly more academic in my approach. I can now accept that, just possibly, he may have been very different to the romantic, gentle knight of popular fiction. He was a man of his times, violent, ruthless even, but a child-killer? I still can't believe that. It would have  made no sense for him to do so. There is still enough romantic teenager left in me to make him seem like a real person, someone who died before I had the chance to really know him, like a great grandfather perhaps. So during the recent excavations at Leicester I have been in two minds. torn between wanting to know and preserving my childhood illusions.

When the day comes when I finally kick off my clogs and they inter me in deep, dark silence, I want to stay there, undisturbed ...forever. Please, don't dig me up - I'm happy here! Although I am not a religious person I am always uncomfortable with exhumation. If I were Richard I'd want to be left beneath the car park, ignominious burial ground or not, but now, in the great name of science, they have dug him up and subjected every remaining part of him to great scrutiny, I am involved whether I want to be or not.  I will be among those glued to the television on Tuesday, awaiting the results.

How will it feel when they reveal the reconstruction? To come face to face with the man I've worshipped, defended and dreamed about?  Spooky, that's what. Awesome. I will be as overwhelmed as a Christian standing before God. (Please don't take offence at that, it isn't intended to offend.)

If the reality of his face doesn't fit the one I have envisioned all these years, will it matter? I don't think so,  I have never been overly fussy about looks, it is the man beneath that matters. On the other hand, if the reconstruction turns out to be the living spit of the warrior king of my imaginings ...I will be shaken to the very core.

The Death of Henry VIII and something to mark it.

Today, January 28th, marks the anniversary of the death of our most unforgettable monarch. Henry VIII, love him or loathe him, changed England and the way we live forever. In life he was a king to be feared, a ruler never to be crossed, a man not to be questioned.  But, in 1547,  the inexorable hand of Death, changed all that. King Henry became mortal and his mind and actions, from that day to this, has been open to interpretation. Strip away the sumptuous trappings of kingship and we are left with a psyche that even today, evades conclusive analysis.

My next novel, The Kiss of the Concubine, opens at Henry's deathbed and to commemorate his passing I am treating you to a snippet.

The Kiss of the Concubine

January 28th 1547

It is almost midnight and January has Whitehall Palace clenched in its wintery fist. The gardens are rimed with frost, the casements glazed with ice. Like a shadow, I wait alone by the window in the silver-blue moonlight, my eye fixed on the bed. The room is crowded, yet nobody speaks. 

I tread softly among them.  The flickering torch-light illuminates a sheen of anticipation on their faces, the rank odour of their uncertainty rising in a suffocating fug. Few can remember the time that went before, and both friend and foe balance upon the cusp of change and tremble at the terror of the unknown. 

I move through heavily perfumed air, brush aside jewelled velvet sleeves. At the high-canopied bed I sink to my knees and observe his face for a long moment. He is changed. This is not the man I used to know. 

They have propped him on pillows, the vast belly mountainous beneath the counterpane. The yellow skin of mortality’s mask is drawn tightly across his cheeks. There is not much time and before death can wipe his memory clean, I speak suddenly into his ear, a whisper meant only for him. 

“Henry!”

The king’s eyes fly open and his eyeballs swivel from side to side, his disintegrating ego peering as if through the slits in a mummer’s mask. He knows me, and understands why I have come.

His whimper is that of a child left alone in the dark. Anthony Denny steps forward and leans over the bed. ‘Your Majesty, Archbishop Cranmer has been summoned; he cannot be long now.’

Henry’s fat fingers tremble as he grips the coverlet, his pale lips coated with spittle as he tries to speak. I move closer, my face almost touching his, and the last rancid dregs of his breath engulf me. “They think that you fear death, Henry. But it is me you fear me more, isn’t it, my lord?”

“Anne?”

The sound is unintelligible, both a denial and a greeting but it tells me what I need to know. He recognises and fears my presence. Those assembled begin to mutter that the king is raving, talking with shadows.

I sink into the mattress beside him and curl my body around his bulk and run my fingers across the coverlet. “How many times did we share this bed, Henry?” His breathing is laboured now and sweat drips from his brow, the stench of his fear exceeded only by that of his festering thigh. I tighten my grip upon him. 

“Did you ever love me, Henry? Oh, I know that you lusted but that isn’t the same. Do you remember how you burned for me?”

I reach out to trace my fingertip along his cheek and he leaps in fright, like a great fish floundering on a line, caught in a net of his own devising. One brave attendant steps forward to mop the King’s brow and pull up the covers as I continue to tease.

“Poor Henry. Are you afraid even now of what you did? To win me you broke from Rome, although in your heart you never wanted to. Even the destruction of a thousand years of worship was a small price to pay to have me in your bed, wasn’t it?”

Henry sucks in air and forgets to breathe again. A physician hurries forward, pushes the attendant aside and with great daring, lifts the king’s right eyelid. Henry jerks his head away and the doctor snatches back his hand as if it has been scalded. 

Even now they are fearful of him. Although the king can no longer so much as raise his head from his pillow, they still cower. How long will it take for them to forget their fear?

Deeply apologetic, the physician bows and backs away to take his place with the others. As they watch and wait a little longer the sound of mumbled prayer increases. “Not long now, Henry.” I whisper like a lover. “It is almost over.”

A door opens and Archbishop Cranmer enters, stamping his feet to dislodge the snow from his boots. He hands his outer clothes to a servant before pushing through the crowd to approach the bed, his bible tucked beneath his arm. 

Playfully, I poke the end of Henry’s nose. “Time to confess your sins, my husband.” Cranmer takes the king’s hand, his long slim fingers contrasting with the short swollen digits of his monarch. As he begins to mutter the last rites I put my mouth close to Henry’s ear to taunt him.  “Tell the truth, Hal. Own up to all the lies you told of me; how you murdered and how you cheated. Go on…”

But King Henry has lost the power of speech, and cannot make a full confession. Gasping for one more breath he clings tightly to Cranmer’s hand and I know there is not long to wait before he is mine again. A single tear trickles from the corner of his eye to be lost upon his pillow.

“It’s time, Henry.” I whisper. “And I am here, waiting. For a few short years I was your Heaven upon Earth and now, perhaps I can be so again. Unless, of course, I should choose to become your Hell.”

***

The Kiss of the Concubine is a work in progress and, all being well, should be available by the beginning of 2014. In the meantime you might like my other books.

The Winchester Goose: at the court of Henry VIII:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Winchester-Goose-Court-ebook/dp/B00AD2DM4G/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1359368336&sr=1-1

http://www.amazon.com/The-Winchester-Goose-Court-ebook/dp/B00AD2DM4G/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1359368392&sr=8-1&keywords=the+winchester+goose

Peaceweaver: 

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Peaceweaver-ebook/dp/B005HXNDCC/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1359368452&sr=1-1

http://www.amazon.com/Peaceweaver-ebook/dp/B005HXNDCC/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1359368483&sr=1-1&keywords=peaceweaver

The Song of Heledd: http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Song-of-Heledd-ebook/dp/B007HZZ1HI/ref=pd_sim_kinc_2

http://www.amazon.com/The-Song-of-Heledd-ebook/dp/B007HZZ1HI/ref=pd_sim_kstore_4

The Forest Dwellers: http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Forest-Dwellers-ebook/dp/B006G2XI32/ref=pd_sim_kinc_2

http://www.amazon.com/The-Forest-Dwellers-ebook/dp/B006G2XI32/ref=pd_sim_kstore_4