|December 2nd, 2010|
A PLAY OF PIETY - CHAPTER 2
From somewhere along the line of stalls someone croaked loudly, “’Ware sister!”
if guilty of something, Joliffe stood sharply up. Basset laughed
at him. From the far end of the line of stalls a woman said,
friendliwise and for everyone to hear, “You mind your tongue, Deke, or
there’ll be gravel in your pottage next thing you know.”
brought a scattering of laughter and croaking chuckles along the hall,
and the old man beyond the curtain beside Basset’s bed called, “That’ll
clear your bowels for you, Deke.”
Whoever was in the bed across from Basset’s moaned and began to mumble, sounding confused, his voice rising.
now,” the woman said in warning to everyone, yet kindly enough.
Quiet-footed, she came hurriedly, with a soft rush of skirts, between
the stalls to the moaning man’s bedside. She set the basket she
had been carrying on the small table there and was taking something
from it even while she bent over the man, saying something to him in a
low, questioning voice. His head thrashed weakly side to side on
his pillow, not so much in answer, Joliffe thought, as keeping time
with his moaning. Despite the day’s warmth, he was covered to his
naked upper chest by sheet and blanket. A white cloth wrapped
around the crown of his head hid his hair. The woman laid a hand
on his forehead, then along the side of his face, still talking to him,
and he quieted a little. She took that for chance to unstopper
the small vial she had taken from the basket. Using one hand
under his chin to tilt his head a little back and then to draw his
mouth open, she put the vial to his lips with her other hand and
quickly tipped into him whatever it held, closed his mouth with her
other hand still under his chin and kept it closed, gentle but firm, to
be sure of his swallowing whatever she had given him.
her from across the way, seeing her from the back, Joliffe could nearly
have thought her a well-grown girl, small-built as she was in height
and all; but the deft, sure way she moved made him think she was a
grown woman, and when she had settled the man against his pillows and
smoothed the sheet and blanket over him, picked up her basket, and
turned from the bed, Joliffe saw he was right. She wore a gray
gown, plainly cut, with no excess of cloth, the sleeves straight, and
the skirt somewhat short, leaving her plain-shoed feet clear. A
white apron covered it from throat to below her knees, but she had
neither wimple nor veil covering her neck and hair, only -- like a
servant -- a long headkerchief over a close-fitted coif to hide her
hair. But she was no servant, any more than she was a girl.
She was a woman somewhere in her vigorous middle years, probably closer
to Basset’s age than Joliffe’s, with brown, bright eyes sharp with
confident intelligence as she took in Joliffe’s presence, assessed him,
and said even as he started a bow to her, “You’re Thomas’ friend.
The one he said might come.”
|December 7th, 2010|
PLAY OF PIETY - CHAPTER 3
Start with Chapter 1
he would sleep proved to be a small room off the short passageway
between the kitchen and the roofed walk -- and small was the only word
for it, with just distance enough to fully open the door between the
doorway and the narrow bed along the far wall and no space for anything
else except a little wooden chest against the wall beside the bedfoot,
with a wall-pole above it for hanging clothing. Joliffe slid
bag from his shoulder yet again, this time to the wooden floor beside
the little chest, and said, “I hope Ivo wasn’t a large man.”
nodded toward the wall beyond the bed and asked, “What’s there?”
stairway to the storeroom that’s above here,” Rose said from outside
the doorway, there being hardly space for them both at once in the
room. “Beyond the stairs is the scullery. You’ll be
enough of that soon.”
“Will I?” he asked, suddenly wary.
“Washing dishes was part of this Ivo’s duties?”
was part of his duties,” Rose said with a serenity suspiciously
underlain with laughter. She looked at the bare mattress on
roped bedstead. “I’ll bring you sheets, a blanket and
pillow.” She stepped backward from the doorway, inviting him
come out, adding, “We stripped and scrubbed the room and aired the
mattress after he went. That only leaves doing the same to
“Pardon?” he said, following her back toward the
of body and soul. Those are the lights that lead us
She sounded as if she were quoting – and maybe a little mocking –
“I note that cleanliness of body coming first,”
said dryly. “I suppose because it’s easier to be sure a body
clean than a soul.”
“Only too true,” Rose agreed, crossing the
kitchen toward a far doorway. “So, as with anyone newly come
here, we’ll begin with your body.”
Still following her but his voice rising more
strongly, Joliffe repeated, “Pardon?”
|December 9th, 2010|
TE HABERE... - KINDLE EDITION
"Volo te Habere...", a short story starring my old friend Bishop Beaufort, has been released for the Kindle. It can also be read on any iPad, Android, Windows PC, Mac, or Blackberry device by using some of the free Kindle
It had seemed so simple. Were
Stephen and Catheryn married? They said yes. Their parents said no. But
if they'd said their vows, then the vows were binding and there was
nothing to be done. If they hadn't, then their parents could take
matters into their own hands. Of course, people often failed to think
through what they did or said. Words fell out of their mouths and they
went happily along their way, supposing the words meant whatever they'd
wanted to say (or to hear).
So once he knew the words, it would all be so simple to resolve.
But some things are never easy.
from the pages of the Edgar-nominated Sister Frevisse and Player
Joliffe series, Margaret Frazer's Bishop Beaufort sees his holy court
drenched with the tears and blood of a tale told in passion, sealed
with murder, and spiced with the deadliest sin of all: Greed.
Bishop Beaufort, of course, also appears in The Bishop's Tale and A Play of Lords.
Although fictionally related to Dame Frevisse, he is, as it happens,
quite historical. Complex and highly intelligent, he was one of four
illegitimate children born to Katherine Swynford and John of Gaunt,
royal duke of Lancaster. In the fullness of time he was legitimated and
was half-brother, uncle, and great-uncle to three kings of England; a
cardinal in the Catholic church; several times chancellor of England;
and a very wealthy and powerful man.
He is not the young gentleman depicted on the cover illustration. (Although I'd probably sell a million copies if it were.)
|December 11th, 2010|
BOOK SIGNING TODAY!
Now that A Play of Piety is officially out, I have two appearances this month at my local independent mystery bookstores.
first, with apology for the short notice (my fault; not theirs), is
today, December 11th, from 1pm to 2pm at Uncle Edgar's Mystery
Bookstore on Chicago Avenue, Minneapolis, MN (with hopes the massive
snowstorm predicted for that day doesn't blot out everything).
Because of the Minneapolis Blizzard (10 inches of snow as of 2 PM and
forecasts are predicting an inch per hour for the next 8 hours) the
signing at Uncle Edgar's has been cancelled. However, Don -- who has
been running Uncle Edgar's for 37 years -- ran a crate of books over to
me yesterday and I signed them all. So if you're looking for a signed
copy this week, they have them in stock. And if you want to meet me in
person, I will be appearing at Uncle Edgar's from 11 AM to Noon next Saturday (the 18th).
The second, is December 18th from 1pm to 3pm at Once Upon A Crime Mystery Bookstore on 26th Street, just off Lyndale, Minneapolis, MN.
Come to both!
|December 14th, 2010|
OF CARNAL AFFAIRS
other thought occurred to me regarding "Volo te Habere...". The title
is Latin, translating to "I wish to have you...", and the story
revolves (at least in part) around a question of medieval marriage law.
writing it, I very much enjoyed weaving a plot around the fine points
of medieval English marriage laws for this story. What surprised
me, when I first found it out, was how much argument about marriage and
divorce there was in late medieval England, and that it all took place
in the church courts, because marriage – as a sacrament – was under the
church’s jurisdiction. Rather than the fairly prevalent notion
that the Catholic church was an inert monolith sitting like a dead
weight on the minds of men – except when it rose up to persecute and
annihilate heretics and other foes – the medieval church was an active
and responsive part of medieval life. For one thing, neither
marriages nor divorces were cut-and-dried yea-and-nay matters, and a
great many records of marriage / divorce litigation still exist from
the 1400s, providing fodder for many plots of murder. Not that
married couples in medieval England seem to have been any more prone to
murdering each other than modern couples are (or any less prone,
either, come to that), but a fiction author reads documents with an eye
toward the twist that can be given to plain facts to turn them into a
story, and there is no way to read these documents without seeing
For instance, there’s record of the
young man who had carnal intercourse with three serving maids in his
mother’s household, promising marriage to each one of them. When
he was brought before the church court to determine which promise was
valid, the court must have decided that untangling the matter was
hopeless, because it ended by ruling that the young man would have to
marry whichever of the three women he next had intercourse with.
And if that isn’t a set-up for murder, I don’t know what is.
|December 18th, 2010|
THIS WORLD'S ETERNITY - KINDLE EDITION
"This World's Eternity", a short story based around Shakespeare's Henry VI Part 2, has been released for the Kindle. It can also be read on any iPad, Android, Windows PC, Mac, or Blackberry device by using some of the free Kindle
|It was a quiet murder. A painless one. Not a trace of blood. There wasn’t even a body.
But it was a poison true as arsenic: The poison of the human heart.
and nationally best-selling author Margaret Frazer plunges into the
darkest depths of the 15th century in this stunning tale of kings and
witchcraft, revealing the hidden hand behind the throne of England.
Join Queen Margaret and the Duke of Gloucester as they gamble for the
fate of kingdoms in a tale woven out of Shakespeare’s Henry VI. Souls
are placed at the stake, but will any of them see the true danger
lurking in their midst before it’s too late?
This story features some familiar faces: Queen Margaret and King Henry IV from "Neither Pity, Love, Nor Fear" as well as Bishop Beaufort from The Bishop's Tale and A Play of Lords.
It's one of the three short stories I have written based around various
plays by Shakespeare (for a series of Shakespeare-oriented anthologies).
With this story I had to fight against my urge to be historical rather than keeping to
the reality of the play. But I’m good at rubbing my stomach while patting
my head, so I managed to do what had to be done. I would like, however, to
here offer my apologies to the shades of Cardinal Beaufort, Duke Humphrey of Gloucester, and various lords.
But not to either
Queen Margaret or the Duke of Suffolk. Writing them as villains was no trouble
|December 21st, 2010|
INTERVIEW WITH SHARON KAY PENMAN
Over the weekend an interview I did for Sharon Kay Penman was posted on her website. You can find it here.
Sharon is not only a dear friend of mine, but the author of simply
wonderful historical novels. If enjoy romping with Frevisse and
Joliffe, I think you would be well advised to hunt down some of her
I also have to say that I just reread the interview and
found it delightful (which is something I rarely feel when reading a
transcript of myself). In any case, I'm highly pleased with this. Bless
Sharon for the opportunity.
As a quick correction: I mention in
the interview that several of the long-out-of-print Frevisse novels
will be made available on the Kindle very soon. This is true. What is
not true is that the first novel will be The Bishop's Tale: Due to some flurrying with the rights, we'll be leading off with The Outlaw's Tale
instead. Compared to the year-long wait between finishing a Joliffe
manuscript and seeing it into print, the e-publishing world is rather
In fact, I just finished the final round of galley proofing on The Outlaw's Tale
last week and as soon as we can convince Amazon that, yes, I really did
write it; and, yes, I really did give permission for it to be sold as
an e-book, it should be available.
|December 25th, 2010|
I find that I've maybe internalized my medieval life a bit too
far. (I can hear my near-and-dear muttering "maybe?") In
medieval times the weeks of Advent were a subdued time for penance,
reflection, fasting, and purification in readiness for the great
gift of Christ's life at Christmas. This was true across the
culture, not simply in religious establishments where purple was
the color of vestments and all, just as in Lent. Christmas Eve was
the culmination of preparation for the day rather than a time for
But come Christmas Day!
That was when all that fasting
and subduing of spirits paid off in a bursting out into a feasting
and partying that went on for twelve days. You know -- the Twelve
Days of Christmas. None of this modern nonsense about Christmas
Day, toss out the tree, pause, New Year's, and it's over. No. In
medieval times the ideal was: Christmas Day, then party, party,
party, more party, New Year's (when gifts were exchanged, rather
than on Christmas), more party, party, party, Big Party on
Twelfth Night; recuperate and get back to work. Now that's the
way to celebrate Midwinter!
So what I mean by having maybe internalized medieval life too
much is that I have trouble these days bursting out with decorations
and lights and all until Christmas. Just when everyone else is
winding down their celebrations, I'm wanting to put up lights and
hang the decorations and play Christmas carols and party. Yes,
sometimes it can be pretty lonely for me back there in medieval
Still, the Christmas candy will be on discount then, so all is
All the Best of Christmas Wishes and New Year Good
Fortune to All.
|December 27th, 2010|
MEDIEVAL YEAR IN ENGLAND:A warm Christmas -- a cold Easter.
A green Christmas -- a white Easter.
those living on the land, this is a time of settling in with the
winter. If the frost is not yet deep into the soil, more plowing in
preparation for spring may be doe. If the cold is not yet too great,
the geese, sheep, and cattle that have survived last month’s
slaughtering are let out to graze the stubble fields. If they cannot
be loosed to graze, especial care must be kept of them in their barns.
Beekeepers should be sure their hives have food enough and supply them
with honey and water if need be.
can be threshing what grain is needed for now, not more than can be
used, since grain keeps best in the head. All the stored food supplies
should be checked regularly from now through winter to be sure they are
keeping well. Now is a goodly time for sharpening and mending tools.
For hunters, the roedeer and hare are still in season and bird-netting is allowed.
But beyond all else this is not only Winter Month but Heligh monath
– Holy month. The holy season of Advent begins somewhere near its
beginning and there are special holy days all through it.
6 is St. Nicholas day, when in schools – especially choir schools
attached to cathedrals – boy bishops are elected to rule from now to
Childermas (Dec. 28), allowed to robe themselves as bishops, do mass
with boys for priests, and go through town asking for food gifts for
the school boys or the poor.
Dec. 13 is St. Lucy’s day and followed by Ember Days of fasting and abstinence on the Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday after it.
20 is another fast day, and Dec. 21 – St. Thomas the Apostle’s day – is
for almsgiving and dole to the poor and servants who give holly and
mistletoe in return.
Dec. 24 as
Christmas Eve is another fast day, but full of preparations for
Christmas on the morrow. Mistletoe is forbidden in churches but all
other evergreens are welcome everywhere in church and home. The Yule
log, cut last winter and left to season these twelve months, is brought
in tonight and lighted, preferably with a bit of last year’s log, saved
until now. Once lighted, the log should burn for 24 hours at least,
for good fortune, but the last of it should of course be kept for next
Dec. 25 is Christmas, the celebration of the Nativity of
Christ and the beginning of twelve days of festival. Among other
sports, the lord of the manor will organize a great feast in the manor
hall for all his manor folk, with himself and all his people
contributing to it. Caroling, partying, games, and mummers make
Christmas and its twelve days merry. A Lord of Misrule is chosen to
direct the revels through the holidays, with his own officials and
foolish dress and license for mischief.
Dec. 26 is St. Stephen’s
day, called Boxing Day because of boxes in the churches to receive alms
for the poor today especially. It is said to be a good day for
blood-letting of horses to keep them healthy for the year.
28 is Holy Innocents day, called Childermas. By tradition, children
are supposed to be whipped today to remind them of the massacre of the
babies of Bethlehem. IT is supposed to be the most unlucky day of the
year, a very ill time for any enterprise.
Dec. 31 is the eve of
the New Year. Though the official year of church reckoning and
government documents and records does not start until Lady Day in March
(so that the year runs officially from March 25 to March 24), today is
the popular end-of-year and late revels are a long-held custom.
|December 29th, 2010|
THE OUTLAW'S TALE - KINDLE EDITION
The Outlaw's Tale, the long-out-of-print third book in the Dame Frevisse series, is now available from Amazon.com for downloading to your Kindle or PC or iPad! (Also the Mac, Blackberry, and Android.)
ACT OF MERCY, ACT OF MURDER
Leaving the safety of her nunnery
walls behind, Dame Frevisse is drawn into an unholy web of treachery
and deceit. Waylaid on the King's Highway by a band of outlaws,
Frevisse is shocked to discover that their leader is her long-lost
cousin Nicholas. When he pleads with her to help him obtain a pardon for
his crimes, she finds herself trapped between the harsh edicts of the
law and the mercy of her vows.
even as she struggles to restore his fortunes, Frevisse must fight
to save his soul... and his life. Before the outlaw's tale can be told,
the saintly nun will find herself locked in a manor house of murder,
caught between the holy passions of the heart and the sinful greeds of
am nigh to dumbstruck by this. Yes, I know my publisher has some of my
later books available as e-books, but I had nothing to do with the
process of getting the books set up for that. But rights to The
Outlaw’s Tale reverted to me several years ago, and so I have been very
involved in the process of getting it ready to go electronic, which
entailed, among other things, having to read the entire book for the
first time since it was published seventeen years ago.
the saying that revenge is a dish best served cold? My fear, when I
began the rereading, was that my “old” prose served cold was going to
be a very unpalatable dish. Usually by the time I’ve finished the
third draft of a book, then worked through the copy-edited manuscript
that comes back from the editor, then read the final proofs for any
last minute changes, I am heartily disillusioned with the book and
everything in it and about it and go around muttering, “If I never see
that thing again, I’ll be happy.” This of course wears off, and after
a year or two I find whichever book it was quite all right after all.
(Yes, this little process continues to amuse and reassure me but seems
not to change.) Unfortunately, The Outlaw’s Tale was written at a very
difficult time in my life (major surgery; two moves of house; a total
restructuring of my life; accompanying emotional turmoil and physical
exhaustion) so that writing it was done in a jumble of times and
places. I remember tussling with the plotline because I couldn’t keep
track of what I was doing, either in the book or in the rest of my
life! Sure in my mind that the book had suffered from all that, once
it was done I never looked back at it, not wanting to re-live that time
by seeing it reflected in the flawed book.
So I was not looking
forward to dealing with it to ready it for going on-line. But needs
must when the Devil drives, and I set to it – and found myself enjoying
what I was reading! No book is perfect. There’s always something that
could have been done otherwise and maybe should have been, but The
Outlaw’s Tale is not the book I feared it was, tangled as it was with a
bad time in my life. And because so long had passed since I last read
it, there were moments that I had forgotten completely and pleasurably
surprised me, others that were far better in the reading than in my
memory, and one that shocked me, just as it was supposed to. Life, as
it was happening to me all those years ago, had overlaid the book with
memories it did not deserve.
So I was able to think instead on the wonder of a book originally written in a long-dead program called AlphaWorks
and saved onto 5" floppy disks, then carefully transferred from
computer to computer (making the hop to 3.5" disks as the years went by
before reaching hard drives and CDs and incredibly little
thumb-sticks), until not it's not only on my computer but being sent
out into the world for people to draw out of the electronic web to
their own computers and reading devices. The whole arc of that bemuses
and delights me. After all, I go back far enough that I watched the
original Star Trek
series before it was in reruns. That meant that when cell phones first
came out, with the nifty flip-open lids, I had trouble taking them
seriously because, well, look, they’re from Star Trek
and not real, right? And Kindles? Same problem. These are straight
from the science fiction of my youth – and now they’re real and it’s
fascinating for me on so many levels. Not least the split personality
it’s encouraging in me. I spend my days laboring away at recreating
the medieval world, then see my work go out into formats so far removed
from medieval life as to be beyond imagining then.
To the good,
this splitting keeps me more appreciative of modern life than blasé
familiarity might otherwise allow. After a day lighting a medieval
household, I find myself thinking how flipping a switch on the wall and
getting a room full of light is a really cool thing. So to click away
at a keyboard and have an entire book appear before you – incredible!
Try it! The Outlaw’s Tale awaits.
|December 30th, 2010|
AT THE BATTLE OF WAKEFIELD
what many historians may think, there can be value in the perspective a
novelist may bring to another time and place. Not those novelists who
“skim off the top”, as it were – taking the Big Events and Big Names of
a time and then pasting in on top of them whatever florid
improbabilities have taken the novelist’s fancy. These authors well
deserve both historians’ and readers’ scorn.
But there are authors who work mightily to tell
their stories within the context of the time and keep their characters
true to that time, not turn them into some out-of-period freak with
modern sensibilities and perceptions. Sharon Kay Penman and Elizabeth
Chadwick are excellent examples of authors who work hard at playing
fair with the times and people they write about. I know I ceaselessly
strive to do the same, and it’s fascinating what insights can come when
trying to see a time, a world, and people from as far inside them as
good novelists try to go. Which brings me to the Battle of Wakefield,
today being its 550th anniversary and a dark day for all true Yorkists
(of which count me strongly one).
What we know (as far as we can
judge from the uneven period records) is (this is the short-form
version) that Richard, duke of York, his teenage son Edmund, his
brother-in-law the earl of Salisbury, Salisbury’s son Sir Thomas, a
number of their household men, and a smallish army had come rapidly
north from London in December 1460, to gather troops to counter a
massive gathering of Lancastrians determined to regain their corrupt
control (this is an unabashed biased opinion) of the government. York
and his allies moved into Sandal Castle outside Wakefield for
Christmas. By tradition a truce was to hold throughout Christendom
through the Christmas holy days that ran into early January. On
December 30 a foraging party rode out from Sandal Castle and were next
seen making a fighting retreat from a skirmishing party of
Lancastrians. (So much for Christmas truces. The Lancastrians would
also shortly bring an army of Scots over the Border as allies and make
a swathe of destruction from the North to almost London.) York,
allegedly against advice, plunged out of the castle to join in the
fight. It turned out there was a large Lancastrian force in hiding
that then swept out and overwhelmed the Yorkists, with York, his son,
and a great many others killed in a terrible defeat.
checking again and still cannot find a historian who has more to say
about why York went so precipitously into action than that it was a
really stupid thing to do. They may not say it in just so many words,
but that’s what it comes down to, and they use the action to throw
heavy doubts on York’s character, stability, judgment, etc.
bewilders me is that no one seems to have taken a guess at a very solid
reason York would come out of the castle in too-great haste and with
too few men and plunge into that fight. Think about it as a novelist
should. A wet, cold Christmastide in a castle that hadn’t been readied
beforehand for all those men to settle in, so not much in the way of
anything to do – no ladies, no partying – boring. Teenage son and his
twenty-something cousin. Bunch of guys. Bored. Looking for something
Who do you think was in that foraging party? Why,
suddenly seeing that foraging party caught in a fighting retreat toward
the castle, would York rush out to help it?
There’s no way to
prove his son and nephew were in that foraging party, but the
likelihood is large and would certainly give the emotional impetus to
York’s headlong action – change, too, the way York’s action is judged.
Not the careless misjudgment of a poor commander (who had been quite
successful in holding the line in the disastrous French war) but the
immediate response of a father to a son’s danger.
As a novelist,
trying to understand what underlies outward actions, dealing with York
and his family as if they were people with complex emotional lives and
relationships rather than cardboard figures moving through set-piece
historical events, I can see that might well have sent York out of that
castle and into a fight ill-prepared. Considering that possibility
makes sense of York’s action.
I just wish more historians would consider love and fear for a son as a man’s motivation for what
otherwise seems merely inexplicable and foolhardy.
And that is
not just the novelist in me talking. That’s the scholar who believes
that consideration of rational possibilities is among historians’ valid
(and valuable) tools in understanding the past.