Category: guest post

Guest Post: “Did Tudors Smell Whiffy?” by Carol McGrath

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Book jacket Tudor Sex and SexualityToday, I am pleased to welcome Carol McGrath to the blog to discuss Tudor hygiene as part of the Sex and Sexuality in Tudor England blog tour. I would like to thank Carol McGrath and Pen and Sword Books for allowing me to be part of this tour.

Did Tudors smell whiffy? Did they care about personal hygiene? It may surprise you that the Tudors cared about cleanliness despite the fact many did not bathe regularly. Henry VIII frequently took baths and had a new bathhouse constructed at Hampton Court for his personal use and a steam bath at Richmond Palace. This new bath was made of wood but lined with a linen sheet to protect his posterior from catching splinters. It was a marvellous feat of Tudor engineering and allowed water to flow into it from a tap fed by a lead pipe bringing water from a spring over three miles distant from the palace. Tudor engineers were clever enough to pass the pipe underneath the Thames river bed using gravity to create strong water pressure to spurt up two floors into the royal bathroom.

It was important to most Tudors not to stink and particularly important not to smell unpleasant when contemplating relations with a lover. Stinking like a beast was totally unacceptable to a Tudor because, ideally, humans should smell sweet. Of course, the Tudor world was less sanitized than our world. Even so, people were not unaware of bad smells around them, and they actually feared nasty pongs. Medicine taught that disease spread through miasma or foul-smelling airs. Importantly, Tudors also believed that sweet smells could be a key indicator of a person’s moral state, never mind that smelling sweet could help attract a lover. 

bathingBathing for most Tudors meant a dip in the river. For those dwelling in towns, bathing facilities such as bathhouses existed during the first few decades of the era. Crusaders had brought the habit of bathing back from the East, thereby making the idea of bathhouses popular.

Hygiene meant both cleaning oneself and one’s clothes regularly. Just as the Church clamped down on sexual freedoms, it had opinions on bathing: heat could inflame the senses, and washing nude was a sign of vanity, even sexual corruption, so they often wore shirts while bathing.  You could scent a bath with flowers and sweet green herbs to help cure ailments, therefore attaching a medicinal element to the practice. Exotic perfumes such as civet and musk were used in soaps, as well as rose water, violet, lavender, and camphor. For those who could afford scented soaps, they certainly were available.

Tudor Pomander replica

Where public bathhouses went, sex soon followed, so it is no wonder the ever-critical Church complained. Tudor brothels were called ‘stews’ and ‘to lather up’ was an early sixteenth-century slang phrase for ejaculation which came from the notion that one could stew in hot water and steam within a bathhouse. As recently as the previous century, the City of London officially recognized the borough of Southwark as having the highest concentration of bathhouses in London. Ironically, this was an area owned by the Bishop of Winchester, and since many bathhouses were also brothels, their sex workers acquired the alternative name of Winchester Geese.

As the sixteenth century continued, bathing fell into decline as new medical advice suggested it weakened the body. Cleaning the skin left it open to infection. This was considered an outside agency that drifted in the air like spores and which rose from places of putrefaction. The skin’s pores were one body area through which these nasty spores could enter, so medical advice determined that the skin needed to be preserved as a barrier. Pores were a secondary route into the body, and the filth produced by the body must be removed completely and quickly to avoid reabsorption. It became important to wash your shirt and change it frequently to keep clean.

Linen shirts, smocks, under-breeches, hose, collars, coifs, and skull caps allowed the total body coverage. As a fabric, linen was very absorbent. It drew sweat and grease from the skin into the weave of the cloth. Since linen acted like a sponge, the Tudors thought it would draw out waste products from the body and improve the body’s circulation, strengthen the constitution and even restore the balance of the humours.

laundress

Laundresses were popular during Tudor times, not just to keep linen washed but because the washerwomen were easily connected with sex. They were badly paid, so sex work was a way to subsidize their income in many cases. Washerwomen sometimes became known as ‘lavenders.’ The word lavender comes from the Latin lavare to wash, and the word to launder derives from these sweet-smelling flowers. Lavender grows all over Europe, and as it was cheap and readily available, it was used widely when washing clothing. The sixteenth-century poem Ship of Fools contains the following lines:

Thou shalt be my lavender Laundress.

To Wash and keep all my gear

Our two beds together shall be set

Without any let.

People used linen to scrub the body. The Tudor Gentleman, Sir Thomas Elyot, wrote a book in 1534 called The Castel of Health. He suggests an early morning hygiene regime to ‘rubbe the body with a course lynnen clothe, first softly and easilye, and after that increase more and more, to a hard and swift rubbynge, untyll the flesh do swelle and to be somewhat ruddy and that not only down ryghte, but also overthrart and round.’ Rubbing vigorously after exercise could draw the body’s toxins out through open pores, and the rough linen cloth would carry them away. Most people only owned two or three sets of underwear. Listed underwear occasionally turned up in Tudor inventories, and linens would often be recorded in wills as bequeathed to others.

Ruth Goodman, a well-known social historian, once followed a Tudor body cleansing regime for a period of three months while living in modern society. No one complained or even noticed a sweaty smell. She wore natural fibre on top of the linen underwear but took neither a shower nor a bath for the whole period. When she recorded The Monastery Farm for television, she only changed her linen smock once weekly and her hose three times over six months, and she still did not pong. Tudor England was not a place where everyone smelled as sweetly as most people who shower daily today, but its people generally managed not to stink. Of course, the past did smell differently. Even so, being clean and sweet-smelling did matter to many Tudors. 

C McGrath twitterCarol McGrath 

Following a first degree in English and History, Carol McGrath completed an MA in Creative Writing from The Seamus Heaney Centre, Queens University Belfast, followed by an MPhil in English from the University of London. The Handfasted Wife, the first in a trilogy about the royal women of 1066, was shortlisted for the RoNAS in 2014. The Swan-Daughter and The Betrothed Sister complete this highly acclaimed trilogy. Mistress Cromwell, a best-selling historical novel about Elizabeth Cromwell, wife of Henry VIII’s statesman, Thomas Cromwell, republished by Headline in 2020. The Silken Rose, first in a Medieval She-Wolf Queens Trilogy featuring Ailenor of Provence, was published in April 2020 by the Headline Group. This was followed by The Damask Rose. The Stone Rose will be published in April 2022. Carol writes Historical non-fiction as well as fiction. Sex and Sexuality in Tudor England will be published in February 2022. Find Carol on her website:

www.carolcmcgrath.co.uk.

Follow her on amazon @CarolMcGrath

Guest Post: “ Gertrude Courtenay: Forgotten Tudor Woman” by Sylvia Barbara Soberton

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banner-blogtour1Today, I am pleased to welcome Sylvia Barbara Soberton back to discuss another forgotten Tudor woman, Gertrude Courtenay, who is the subject of her latest book, “The Forgotten Tudor Women: Gertrude Courtenay. Wife and Mother of the last Plantagenets”.

The biography of Gertrude Courtenay, Marchioness of Exeter, is the third volume in my best-selling series Forgotten Tudor Women. As the title of the series suggests, I am writing about the lesser-known women of the Tudor court. When I say “lesser-known”, I don’t mean that little is known about these women. Quite the contrary; they left an extraordinary trail of letters, papers, and documents and made their presence known to various chroniclers and ambassadors.

Why Gertrude, you may ask? Long story short: She was amazing! I wanted to write a biography of Gertrude for a very long time. Why was she so special?

Married to Henry VIII’s first cousin Henry Courtenay, Earl of Devon and then Marquis of Exeter, Gertrude was the wife and mother of the last Plantagenets at the Tudor court. Her husband, after whose noble title the Exeter Conspiracy is known today, was executed in 1538, and their son, Edward, spent fourteen years imprisoned in the Tower of London.

Gertrude was among the key political players of Henry VIII’s court during the infamous annulment, known as the Great Matter, commencing in 1527 and ending in 1533. A Catholic and staunch supporter of the King’s first wife, Katharine of Aragon, and their daughter, Princess Mary, Gertrude took an active part in the most turbulent events of Henry VIII’s political and private life. She was far from a passive observer, though. She exchanged letters with Eustace Chapuys, ambassador of the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, and even visited him in disguise when it was dangerous to become Henry VIII’s enemy. She gave ear to the Nun of Kent’s prophecies (for which the Nun was executed in 1534) and remained Katharine of Aragon’s supporter even after the Queen’s banishment.

Gertrude’s hatred of Anne Boleyn, the King’s second wife, and everything she stood for achieved epic proportions and made Gertrude’s support of Katharine and Mary even more resounding. It was Gertrude who took an active part in the fall of Anne Boleyn and the rise of Jane Seymour in May 1536. Godmother to two Tudor monarchs, Elizabeth I and Edward VI, Gertrude was prominent in court circles until her luck ran out when her husband was executed in December 1538. His crime was having a close friendship with Henry Pole, brother of Cardinal Reginald Pole, with whom he discussed politics. Although Henry Courtenay died on the scaffold and their son was imprisoned for fifteen years, Gertrude was released from the Tower of London and survived under the radar until Henry VIII’s elder daughter, Mary, ascended to the throne in 1553. Gertrude’s lifelong friendship with Mary was tested when the Queen rejected Gertrude’s son as a prospective husband.

Gertrude’s story had to be told, and I am overjoyed that I can introduce her to a wider audience.

book-cover-forgotten-3-kdp-uploadAbout the Book

Gertrude Courtenay led a dangerous life, both personally and politically. Daughter of a prominent courtier, she started her career as maid of honor and then lady-in-waiting to Katharine of Aragon, Henry VIII’s first wife.

She sided with the Queen during the Great Matter, as the divorce case between Henry VIII and Katharine of Aragon was then often known. A bitter enemy of the King’s second wife, Anne Boleyn, Gertrude, plotted and intrigued with Henry VIII’s enemies, brushing with treason on many occasions.

Wife and mother of the last Plantagenets of the Tudor court, Gertrude was an ambitious and formidable political player. The story of her life is a thrilling tale of love and loss, conspiracies and plots, treason and rebellion.

This is Gertrude’s story.

Guest Post: “Why I Write Dual Timeline Novels and Why I Choose Present Day” by Clare Marchant

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The Queen's Spy Tour BannerToday, I am pleased to welcome Clare Marchant to my blog to discuss her latest novel, “The Queen’s Spy,” and her use of dual timelines. I would like to thank The Coffee Pot Book Club and Clare Marchant for stopping by on this tour. 

I have always loved reading dual timeline novels. I love history (of course!), and although I also read many historical books, both fiction and non-fiction, I love that connection between the past and the present, waiting to find out when the two worlds will meet.

I often wax lyrical about how I am fascinated with the connections that bind us all together, whether family ties, our links to places, objects, or indeed each other. We are all woven together by the way that we are threaded together with everything that we touch. We all have special items, be it family heirlooms or gifts, jewelry, or a book; perhaps that means something special to us. Something that will eventually belong to someone else. When it comes to history, these associations take on a whole new persona as they link over the years or centuries, and I love investigating this through my writing by tying the two stories together through a shared theme, a shared connection.

In Saffron Hall, that relationship, the object that tied the two stories together, was the book of hours. I have a fascination for old illuminated manuscripts, so I wanted to use one of these exquisite small prayer books as the object that united together my two protagonists, showing how the theme, ‘while I breathe, I hope’ touched the lives of them both. They both learn that they must live with the hurt they have endured and to keep taking each day at a time until things get better – they keep breathing and keep hoping. That eventually, time will help them to move on.

In The Queen’s Spy, the object is the triptych that Tom paints, showing his journey, which mirrors in some respects the one in the present day that Mathilde is taking. They are both connected by their shared background of being shunned by society for separate reasons. By being ‘different’ and having to face prejudice and leaving them to lead a peripatetic lifestyle never accepted by those around them. They are always searching for somewhere they will be recognized for who they are and loved for it. By investigating the painting, Mathilde begins to learn more about herself and her place in this world.  And she learns the book’s theme, that she cannot change the past, but she can change the future.

The reason why I choose present-day as my alternative timeline to the Tudor one is that despite the apparent differences to our daily lives between the way we now live compared to how they did in the sixteenth century, I think it shows just how much these morals that guide us affect us all whenever we lived. We are just the same in our hearts, with similar fears, hopes, desires, and despair. People love, they grieve, they laugh, and they cry. In every life, there are shared experiences, precious objects…and precious people.

The Queen's Spy Cover(Blurb)

1584: Elizabeth I rules England. But a dangerous plot is brewing in court, and Mary Queen of Scots will stop at nothing to take her cousin’s throne.

There’s only one thing standing in her way: Tom, the queen’s trusted apothecary, who makes the perfect silent spy…

2021: Travelling the globe in her campervan, Mathilde has never belonged anywhere. So when she receives news of an inheritance, she is shocked to discover she has a family in England.

Just like Mathilde, the medieval hall she inherits conceals secrets, and she quickly makes a haunting discovery. Can she unravel the truth about what happened there all those years ago? And will she finally find a place to call home?

Buy Links:

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Queens-Spy-gripping-historical-fiction-ebook/dp/B08R6Q4CC9

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Queens-Spy-gripping-historical-fiction-ebook/dp/B08R6Q4CC9

Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/Queens-Spy-gripping-historical-fiction-ebook/dp/B08R6Q4CC9

Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/Queens-Spy-gripping-historical-fiction-ebook/dp/B08R6Q4CC9

Barnes and Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-queens-spy-clare-marchant/1139196760

Waterstones: https://www.waterstones.com/book/the-queens-spy/clare-marchant/9780008454357

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/the-queen-s-spy-2

iBooks: https://books.apple.com/gb/book/the-queens-spy/id1554626619

Audio: https://amzn.to/2QRzT2K

Clare MarchantAuthor Bio:

Growing up in Surrey, Clare always dreamed of being a writer. Instead, she followed a career in IT before moving to Norfolk for a quieter life and re-training as a jeweler.

Now writing full time, she lives with her husband and the youngest two of her six children. Weekends are spent exploring local castles and monastic ruins or visiting the nearby coast.

Social Media Links:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/ClareMarchant1

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/claremarchantauthor

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/claremarchant1/?hl=en

Amazon Author Page: https://amzn.to/3fkuf2r

Guest Post: “Historical Aspect of Queen of Blood” by Sarah Kennedy

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Queen of Blood Blog Tour Banner
Today, I am pleased to welcome Sarah Kennedy to my blog to discuss the historical aspect of her latest novel Queen of Blood. Thanks to the Coffee Pot Book Club and Sarah Kennedy for allowing me to be part of this tour.

The most obvious historical aspect of my latest novel, Queen of Blood, is the Wyatt Rebellion, which occurred early in the reign of Mary Tudor (“Bloody Mary”). It was carried out, unsuccessfully, by a group of men who opposed her rule and her marriage to Philip of Spain. The uprising was soon put down, partly because some of the other nobles who were initially involved in the plot failed to raise their armies, and so the band that descended on London was small—and they did not get the support from Londoners that they expected.

That’s the historical context of the book, and it may be the most compelling part of the narrative for some readers. But it’s not the historical aspect that interests me the most. As in all of the novels in my Tudor series, The Cross and the Crown, the element that draws me in the most is the daily lives of everyday people. We know quite a lot about the lives of royals and nobles—and life was not easy even for people with vast resources of wealth and land—but my attention is always on people who lacked these privileges. I’ve always had sympathy for ordinary people who found (and still find) themselves tossed and turned by changes in their governments and their cultures; such changes occurred dramatically during the Tudor years in England.

I try to imagine what daily life was like, particularly for women, who had to worry about childbirth (or the inability to bear children); maintaining and running a household (or working in a household); and caring for extended family members. Just thinking about the number of chores and tasks that had to be accomplished every day, just to stay alive, is exhausting. Women like my main character, Catherine, sometimes had to keep the books for their husbands’ businesses; sometimes had to work in the business (Catherine’s current husband is a wool dealer), and they surely had to stop everything sometimes to show a young maid how to pluck a chicken correctly or how to make soap. I think, too, about the bodily needs that we take for granted today: staying clean; treating wounds and injuries; maintaining personal hygiene during menstruation, pregnancy, breastfeeding, and childbirth.

Can you imagine how time-consuming and difficult it was just to get through a day with enough food, shelter, and clothing?

My Catherine is fortunate in that she knows how to read and write because she was raised in a convent. She knows quite a lot about herbs and medicines, so she generally knows what to do if someone in her household falls ill or, say, cuts herself. She also has maids to help out around the house. But having a household staff means looking out for those people, and that job often fell to the lady of the house.

Now, when all of that daily toil is combined with turmoil in the government and the religion of the country, everything becomes more complicated. England, at the beginning of Mary Tudor’s reign, was Protestant. The convents and monasteries had been closed, and their lands and goods seized by the Crown. Mary, of course, remained Catholic, and one of her goals was to return England to Rome.

This goal was supported by some, opposed by others, and just entirely frustrating and confusing to many. A person could be arrested, imprisoned, and possibly executed for failing to submit to the current requirements of the current church, and I’m sure that this created anxiety, anger, and resentment. Which prayers was a person supposed to say? In what language? What if those requirements violated a person’s conscience? Those were questions that, under the Tudor monarchs, ordinary people often simply had to keep to themselves. They had to follow the rules or suffer the consequences, even if the rules were completely different from what they had been in the previous year.

So, on top of all the necessary daily, drudging work, everyday people were forced to submit to the requirements of church attendance, following the dictates from the throne. It’s no wonder that people rebelled. And it’s no wonder that those rebellions were met with force from the court.

People often adapt to the circumstances in which they find themselves if they can. And if they can’t? If they don’t understand the enormous changes, or don’t approve of them, or can’t bear them? The possible answers to those questions are at the center of my historical interest, and those questions, to me, are the most important historical aspect of my Cross and Crown series.

unnamed(Blurb)

Queen of Blood, Book Four of the Cross, and the Crown series continue the story of Catherine Havens, a former nun in Tudor England. It is now 1553, and Mary Tudor has just been crowned queen of England. Still a Roman Catholic, Mary seeks to return England to its former religion, and Catherine hopes that the country will be at peace under the daughter of Henry VIII. But rebellion is brewing around Thomas Wyatt, the son of a Tudor courtier, and when Catherine’s estranged son suddenly returns from Wittenberg amid circulating rumors about overthrowing the new monarch, Catherine finds herself having to choose between the queen she has always loved and the son who seems determined to join the Protestants who seek to usurp her throne.

Buy Links

Universal Link: mybook.to/QueenofBloodBookFour

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1950586758
Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/Queen-Blood-Sarah-Kennedy/dp/1950586758
Amazon CA: https://www.amazon.ca/dp/1950586758
Amazon AU: https://www.amazon.com.au/dp/1950586758

unnamedAuthor Bio

Sarah Kennedy

Sarah Kennedy is the author of the Tudor historical series, The Cross and the Crown, including The Altarpiece, City of Ladies, The King’s Sisters, and Queen of Blood. She has also published a stand-alone contemporary novel, Self-Portrait, with Ghost, as well as seven books of poems. A professor of English at Mary Baldwin University in Staunton, Virginia, Sarah Kennedy holds a Ph.D. in Renaissance Literature and an MFA in Creative Writing. She has received grants from both the National Endowment for the Arts, the National Endowment for the Humanities, and the Virginia Commission for the Arts.

Social Media Links:

Website: http://sarahkennedybooks.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/KennedyNovels
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/sarah.kennedy.520125
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Sarah-Kennedy/e/B0054NFF6W
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6538009.Sarah_Kennedy

Book Review: “How to Survive in Medieval England” by Toni Mount

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Pen & Sword Book Cover / Jacket artwork

Have you ever wondered what it would be like if you were able to travel back in time to the medieval ages and had to start your life all over again? Could you make the transition from the 21st century to the medieval period with no electronic technology and different customs? What would you wear? How would you get around with no cars and horses being very expensive? Where would you live? What job would you have? These questions and quandaries are answered in the latest nonfiction book by Toni Mount aptly entitled, “How to Survive in Medieval England”.

I would like to thank Pen and Sword Books and Net Galley for sending me a copy of this book. I have found time travel books really interesting in the past few years, so I was intrigued when I heard about this title.

Mount has created a fun and creative guide for those who have a passion for medieval England. For clarification, Mount defines medieval from 1154 to the death of King Richard III in 1485. It’s quite a range, but it gives the reader a chance to see how England transformed during the medieval time. In this book, Mount gives her readers the everyday details that they would want if they traveled to the past or if they just wanted to better understand the past. The information that Mount includes is practical and easy to follow so that anyone who is jumping into the past can understand.

The true highlight of this title and what separates Mount’s book from other time-traveling books are the interviews. No, she does not have her own Tardis, but it feels like she might with these passages. Mount has taken historical figures, both well known and those who her audience might not be familiar with, and has decided to write discussions with them to better understand the past and the motivation for their actions. It is a brilliant way for an author who writes both historical fiction and nonfiction to express their craft in a unique and engaging way.

I have read a few time travel books and I have to say, this one is special. It is one that is engaging for history experts and novices alike. There are warnings, but Mount has also included a bit of humor to make sure that her audience realizes that the past was not always dark.

Medieval England may look drastically different than our 21st century, but if you break it down, the people of the past are just trying to survive the best that they can just like we are. If you want a handy guide to take on your journeys to the past or you just want a book to better understand the past, I highly suggest you read this book, “How to Survive in Medieval England” by Toni Mount.

Guest Post: Excerpt from “The Usurper King: The Plantagenet Legacy Book 3” by Mercedes Rochelle

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The Usurper King Tour BannerToday, I am pleased to welcome Mercedes Rochelle to my blog to share an excerpt from her book “The Usurper King: The Plantagenet Legacy Book 3”. This passage is when Prince Hal has to tell Queen Isabella about Richard’s death. I would like to thank Mercedes Rochelle and The Coffee Pot Book Club for inviting me to partake in this blog tour. 

Excerpt

Isabella of Valois was probably the only person in England who did not know about Richard’s funeral. She was fourteen now and kept in close confinement at Havering-atte-Bower, where she was taken after the failed rebellion. Her prison was an old royal palace to the northeast of London, modest but comfortable. She knew Richard’s life was in danger and was worried sick about him. Alas, no matter how much she cried and demanded to visit her husband, she was politely refused. So she was relieved when the Prince of Wales was announced, for of all King Henry’s children he was closest to her in age and they had gotten along well before he went to Ireland. Before her life fell apart.

Hal came in by himself and knelt before her—a gesture sorely lacking these many months. He had grown much taller since she last saw him, and his shoulders had filled out from training. Unsurprisingly, his stiff posture had not relaxed, nor had his eyes softened; they were guarded as usual. 

Blinking back tears, she held out her hands. “You are a welcome sight, my lord. Thank you for visiting me.”

Slowly he stood and together they walked over to a window seat. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she smiled self-consciously. It had been so long since she had a visitor, she was not dressed like a princess. Hal didn’t seem to care. 

“Do you have everything you need?” he said, trying to find a good place to start a conversation.

Isabella nodded. She knew that’s not why he was here. “I had hoped to see my husband,” she said softly. She knew this was none of his doing, but she had to make her feelings known to somebody.

At least Hal had the grace to look embarrassed. “I loved King Richard like a father,” he said earnestly, trying to take her hand. “He was very good to me.”

“Loved?” Her eyes narrowed. “You love him no longer?”

He sighed. There was no easy way to say this. “My lady, there is something I must tell you.”

She pulled her hand away, panic spreading over her face. “What has happened to him?”

As he struggled to find the words, Isabella broke into tears. “He’s dead, isn’t he?” She covered her face with her hands. “My poor Richard. How could you do this to him?”

Stricken, Hal fell to his knees. “I swear to you, I am overcome with anguish. I didn’t even know where he was kept.”

Lowering her hands, she looked at him doubtfully. “Do you expect me to believe that?”

Hal shook his head. “I am not privy to my father’s decisions.”

“How can that be?”

He hesitated, biting his lip. “It seems my father trusts no one, except for the archbishop. And perhaps his inner circle. We were never close.”

She was not convinced. However, there was no point in arguing. “How did Richard die?” Her voice was so soft he barely heard her. 

“It is said that after the rebellion, he stopped eating. This went on for almost two weeks when they sent a confessor to reason with him. Relenting, he tried to eat but by then he was unable to swallow. Sadly, he expired shortly thereafter.”

“Dear God, he starved to death?”

“That is what I am told.” This sounded weak, even to him. What could he do? Richard’s death was shrouded in mystery. 

“Do you believe this?” Isabella’s voice was harsh. 

“Of course I do.” Hal tried to sound sincere. 

“I expect to attend his funeral,” she said firmly. Once again, he hesitated and she couldn’t restrain her tears. “You wouldn’t stop me, would you?”

Hal had to fight back his rage at his father. He was furious to discover Isabella hadn’t been told about the funeral and insisted he be the one to break the tidings to her. Now he regretted it. 

“It’s too late, Isabella. The king thought it best for you not to attend.”

“Not to attend?” Her voice rose to a shriek. 

Hal stood, stepping back. “He sent me to tell you. He thought it would be best for you to hear from my lips.” 

Did she even heed him? Turning away, she threw herself onto the cushion, crying uncontrollably. Looking around the room, Hal went over to a sideboard and poured a cup of water. He knelt by her side, holding it out.

“Here, drink this.”

Hiccoughing, she sat obediently, accepting the water. 

“I promise you, I will do my best to see you are well taken care of,” he said.

She stopped drinking. “What does it matter? I’ve lost everything I care about.”

Defeated, Hal got up to leave.

“Wait.” 

He stopped, his back to her.

“When?”

He was hoping she wouldn’t ask. Turning, Hal wiped his hands on his sides. “The funeral was the twelfth of March.” 

“That was months ago!” 

He waited for her to start wailing again and she surprised him by her restraint. “I see how it is,” she said sadly. “Once again I am a pawn in your game. I am not supposed to have feelings. I must do what I am told for I have no choice.”

She was breaking his heart. “My dear friend, you are not the only one.”

Henry’s response gave her pause. She cocked her head, considering him for a moment. “I am sorry we are enemies,” she said. “In another world we might have been friends. Please, Hal. Help me go home.”

The Usurper King cover(Blurb)

From Outlaw to Usurper, Henry Bolingbroke fought one rebellion after another.

First, he led his uprising. Gathering support the day he returned from exile, Henry marched across the country and vanquished the forsaken Richard II. Little did he realize that his problems were only just beginning. How does a usurper prove his legitimacy? What to do with the deposed king? Only three months after he took the crown, Henry IV had to face a rebellion led by Richard’s disgruntled favorites. Worse yet, he was harassed by rumors of Richard’s return to claim the throne. His supporters were turning against him. How to control the overweening Percies, who were already demanding more than he could give? What to do with the rebellious Welsh? After only three years, the horrific Battle of Shrewsbury nearly cost him the throne—and his life. It didn’t take long for Henry to discover that that having the kingship was much less rewarding than striving for it.

Buy Links:

Amazon UK: https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B08YLFMVPZ

Amazon US: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08YLFMVPZ

Mercedes RochelleAuthor Bio:

Mercedes Rochelle

Mercedes Rochelle is an ardent lover of medieval history and has channeled this interest into fiction writing. Her first four books cover eleventh-century Britain and events surrounding the Norman Conquest of England. The next series is called The Plantagenet Legacy about the struggles and abdication of Richard II, leading to the troubled reigns of the Lancastrian Kings. She also writes a blog: HistoricalBritainBlog.com to explore the history behind the story. Born in St. Louis, MO, she received her BA in Literature at the Univ. of Missouri St. Louis in 1979 then moved to New York in 1982 while in her mid-20s to “see the world”. The search hasn’t ended! Today she lives in Sergeantsville, NJ with her husband in a log home they had built themselves.

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Guest Post: “The Inspiration Behind The Poison Keeper” by Deborah Swift

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The Poison Keeper Tour BannerToday, it is my pleasure to welcome Deborah Swift to my blog to discuss the inspiration for her latest novel, The Poison Keeper. I would like to thank Deborah Swift and The Coffee Pot Book Club for allowing my blog to host a stop on this tour. 

Deborah Swift, The Poison Keeper Cover

I had enjoyed writing about Seville in A Divided Inheritance and was looking to find another setting where I could escape from the dull grey English winter. My husband suggested Italy and I remembered reading about Giulia Tofana, a notorious Renaissance poisoner, and the poison Aqua Tofana, named after her. I decided to investigate her a bit further to see if she would make a subject for a novel.

I was surprised to find that no one had written a novel about her in English, and so that made me even more determined. However, as soon as I started the research process I realized I was researching someone who was more of a myth than a real historical figure. Most of the information about her was from the 19th century, a good three hundred years since any proper record of her. Also, there were so many different dates associated with her life – for example, she is said by different sources to have been executed, to have escaped, and to have been bricked up behind a wall (!) – and her time of death was variously attributed to 1659, 1709 or 1730.

Antonio_de_Pereda_-_Allegory_of_Vanity_-_Google_Art_Project 1634

Three Generations of Poisoners

There were some peculiarities in the history and it soon became apparent that I was dealing not with one person, but with three – Theofania d’Adamo, her daughter Giulia Tofana and her daughter Girolamo Spara. In Italy at the time, women often took the contracted version of their mothers’ forenames as Christian names – hence Theofania = Tofana. I decided to focus on the middle generation because Giulia was the only one who escaped without execution as far as I could tell.

The one date that could be fixed by contemporary records was the death of Theofania who died on 12th July 1633. This concords with the first record of Aqua Tofana the poison named after Giulia Tofana, or more likely her mother Theofania, which was in 1632. This gave me a firm idea of the timescale for the book.

Naples 1572 Wikipedia 1024px-Braun_Napoli_HAAB

The enticing City of Naples

I was fascinated by the geography of Naples in the 17th Century – a city in the shadow of Mount Vesuvius that had erupted only two years earlier in 1631. The city was still recovering from those horrific events which included not only the eruption, with the city choked by dust and lava, but also by the earthquakes that preceded it and the devastating tsunami that followed it. I was able to use these events in my characters’ backstories. Society was sharply divided into rich and poor areas with glittering Palazzos and squalid slums. Corruption was rife both in the Church and in business.

The Camorra or Mafia

Powerful aristocratic families controlled the city through extortion and racketeering – this was the early inception of the mafia, known as the Camorra. The etymology is from Camo – boss, or head, and Morra – a type of gambling game popular in 17th Century Naples. This provided me with a subplot that I could use with my main male character and allowed me to create a strong antagonist, the Duke de Verdi, for my story.

Aqua Tofana wiki

Aqua Tofana – A deadly poison

Aqua Tofana was supposed to kill by three drops in a drink or food. It was a colorless liquid, supposedly undetectable, but would cause death with similar symptoms to a wasting disease. The actual ingredients have never been confirmed, although many suspect arsenic to be the main ingredient. Naples was a city of alchemists and apothecaries, and the tradition of poison was well known in the city. There had been an epidemic of poisonings since the Borgias. This research area fascinated me, and I spent quite a few happy hours researching poisons in online libraries and through books.

The scope of the research was so interesting that the story soon grew into two books, and the sequel to The Poison Keeper, The Silkworm Keeper will be released soon. 

Thank you for hosting me!

NEW RELEASE 1(Blurb)

Naples 1633

Aqua Tofana – One drop to heal. Three drops to kill.

Giulia Tofana longs for more responsibility in her mother’s apothecary business, but Mamma has always been secretive and refuses to tell Giulia the hidden keys to her success. When Mamma is arrested for the poisoning of the powerful Duke de Verdi, Giulia is shocked to uncover the darker side of her trade.

Giulia must run for her life, and escapes to Naples, under the shadow of Mount Vesuvius, to the home of her Aunt Isabetta, a famous courtesan. But when Giulia hears that her mother has been executed, and the cruel manner of her death, she swears she will wreak revenge on the Duke de Verdi.

The trouble is, Naples is in the grip of Domenico, the Duke’s brother, who controls the city with the ‘Camorra’, the mafia. Worse, her Aunt Isabetta, under Domenico’s thrall, insists that she should be consort to him – the brother of the man she has vowed to kill.

Based on the legendary life of Giulia Tofana, this is a story of hidden family secrets, and how even the darkest desires can be vanquished by courage and love.

‘Her characters so real they linger in the mind long after the book is back on the shelf’ Historical Novel Society

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DeborahSwift-1018Author Bio:

Deborah Swift lives in the north of England and is a USA Today bestselling author who has written fourteen historical novels to date. Her first novel, The Lady’s Slipper, set in 17th Century England, was shortlisted for the Impress Prize, and her WW2 novel Past Encounters was a BookViral Millennium Award winner. 

Deborah enjoys writing about ordinary people thrust into extraordinary circumstances, and most of her novels have been published in reading group editions. She holds an MA in Creative Writing from Lancaster University and is a mentor with The History Quill.

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Guest Post: “Cecily Neville, Duchess of York: Inspiration for The Queen’s Rival” by Anne O’ Brien

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The Queen's RivalToday, I am pleased to welcome Anne O’Brien to my blog to discuss the inspiration for her latest novel, The Queen’s Rival. I would like to thank Anne O’Brien and The Coffee Pot Book Club for allowing me to be part of this blog tour. 

In past years I have written about a variety of medieval women, either royal or attached to the Court.  I enjoy investigating how these women played a role in the political manoeuvrings of their day.  Although we so rarely hear the voices of these women, since they lived in a man’s world and the history was invariably written by men, their involvement was often considerable and they deserve our interest.

Cecily Neville, Duchess of York, is one of the most appealing women of English medieval history, worthy of celebration.  Most medieval women verge towards the invisible, a two-dimensional entity without character or apparent influence; Cecily Neville is an exception.  The Wars of the Roses were both vast in scope and complex in the range of family connections.  So was Cecily’s own Neville family with its royal blood inherited through their mother Joan, Countess of Westmoreland, daughter of John of Gaunt. Cecily demanded in a regal fashion that she be allowed to speak for herself.  It was a challenge that lured me to become involved; I accepted the challenge and wrote about her. 

Without a doubt, Cecily was a remarkable woman, living for eighty years through five reigns, interacting with a vast dramatis personae of famous, infamous, and influential characters in these tumultuous years.  She was the mother of two kings, Edward IV and Richard III, and  grandmother to a Queen Consort, Elizabeth of York, who stepped across the divide between York and Lancaster and married King Henry VII.

On the surface, this would seem to be a life bringing Cecily immense satisfaction and personal achievement, but it was also a life of tragedy.  Cecily outlived all but two of her twelve children, both daughters, some dying in infancy, others meeting terrible ends.  George, Duke of Clarence, was executed for treason, on the orders of his brother King Edward, in the Tower of London.  Richard III died on the battlefield at Bosworth; Edmund of Rutland met his end in an act of revenge after the Battle of Wakefield.  What heartbreak this must have inflicted on her, added to the death of her husband, Richard, Duke of York, at Wakefield.

Cecily’s life also witnessed its share of scandal.  The rumour of her liaison with the common archer Blaybourne, thus prompting the blot of illegitimacy against King  Edward IV, was too valuable a rumour to ignore for those such as the Earl of Warwick and Duke of Clarence who would willingly depose King Edward.  Was the scandal true?  Unlikely, but the widespread gossip must be faced.  How difficult for a woman of Cecily’s pride to accept that her own family would dishonour her reputation.

Would such tragedy obliterate the strength of Cecily’s character?  Cecily worked tirelessly for the House of York. She stood by her children as far as it was possible, even George of Clarence, trying to bring him back into the Yorkist fold.  In Ludlow, abandoned by her husband, Cecily faced a leaderless Lancastrian army and howling mob intent on plundering the town. She proved to be a woman of great courage.  As old age approached, she devoted herself to a life of duty and formidable piety almost worthy of the life of a nun, a life of loyalty to the family she had always supported.

Cecily, Duchess of York, was the doyenne of late medieval history, the Queen who was never crowned.  It would have been unforgivable of me to leave her out of my pantheon of medieval ‘heroines’. 

The Queen's Rival final version(Blurb)

England, 1459. 

One family united by blood. Torn apart by war…

The Wars of the Roses storm through the country, and Cecily Neville, Duchess of York, plots to topple the weak-minded King Henry VI from the throne.

But when the Yorkists are defeated at the Battle of Ludford Bridge, Cecily’s family flee and abandons her to face a marauding Lancastrian army on her own.

Stripped of her lands and imprisoned in Tonbridge Castle, the Duchess begins to spin a web of deceit. One that will eventually lead to treason, to the fall of King Henry VI, and to her eldest son being crowned King Edward IV.

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Anne O'Brien promo picAuthor Bio

Anne O’Brien

Sunday Times Bestselling author Anne O’Brien was born in West Yorkshire. After gaining a BA Honours degree in History at Manchester University and a Master’s in Education at Hull, she lived in East Yorkshire for many years as a teacher of history.

Today she has sold over 700,000 copies of her books medieval history novels in the UK and internationally. She lives with her husband in an eighteenth-century timber-framed cottage in the depths of the Welsh Marches in Herefordshire. The area provides endless inspiration for her novels which breathe life into the forgotten women of medieval history.

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Guest Post: “Forsaking All Other” Excerpt by Catherine Meyrick

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Forsaking All Other. Tour BannerpngToday, it is my pleasure to welcome Catherine Meyrick to my blog to share an excerpt from her novel, “Forsaking All Other”. I would like to thank Catherine Meyrick and The Coffee Pot Book Club for allowing me to take part in this blog tour. 

Excerpt

Wyard studied Lucy Torrington. Was this the manner of woman his mother thought would suit him best? She was well-dowered and, no doubt, malleable. But she was not to his taste, insipid was probably the best way to describe her. It had been a mistake to allow Eloise to talk him into coming here, he should have gone straight to Bucklings Hall.

He glanced at Bess Stoughton. Of all the women present she was the most appealing. Despite his initial misgivings, she seemed honest and sensible. She was not predatory or flirtatious, nothing like that bold piece who had tried to get him to dance last night. Perhaps Bess Stoughton’s relationship with that serving man was some sort of protection—life could be difficult for a widow. And she looked at him with neither pity nor revulsion.

‘You know Mistress Torrington well?’

‘As well as any. Lucy is a good and gentle girl who deserves to be treated with kindness and respect.’

‘Who does not?’

Her eyelashes fluttered as if surprised at his comment. ‘Lucy would bloom best married to someone who loved her.’

‘Few have that blessing. Kindness and respect are the best that most of us can hope for.’

She bit her lip, frowning. ‘Are you considering marrying Lucy?’

Wyard shrugged, ‘She is one of a number of young women my mother thinks would make a suitable bride.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘It may be more accurate to say would make a suitable good-daughter.’

‘Do you have a list of requirements—number of hands high, girth, teeth, temperament? A list such as you would take to a horse market.’

It sounded ridiculous the way she described it. He gave a sudden bark of laughter. ‘In truth, I have no list.’

‘Do you always do as your mother wishes?’

‘Rarely, but it is probably time I married and she fears that, left to my own devices, I will either never marry or choose someone highly unsuitable.’

‘Who would be unsuitable?’

‘From my mother’s position, someone without money or connections.’

‘And from your own?’

‘I have not thought so far.’ If you could not marry the best, the most loving woman you had ever met, it really did not matter.

‘Well you should. Can you imagine what it is like for a woman married to a man who is forcing himself to his duty, who does not like her company or her person, who married her simply because his mother or his father told him to?’

He had never thought of it from a woman’s point of view. ‘Was your own marriage like that?’

‘You lack courtesy, Master Wyard.’

‘But you sound as if you speak from experience.’

‘That is none of your business,’ she snapped, colour flooding her cheeks. ‘If I were a man, if I had your freedom, I would do exactly as I pleased. I would never accept a bride who had been bundled up for me by my mother.’ She glared at him, ‘Now, if you will excuse me.’ She swept away towards the group of singers, her back straight and her head held high.

Wyard wanted to stop her, to explain it was never so easy. He watched her go, wondering why he had never imagined he could truly do as he wished.

Forsaking All Other by Catherine Meyrick(Blurb)

England, 1585.

Bess Stoughton, waiting woman to the well-connected Lady Allingbourne, has discovered that her father is arranging for her to marry an elderly neighbour. Normally obedient Bess rebels and wrests from her father a year’s grace to find a husband more to her liking.

Edmund Wyard, a taciturn and scarred veteran of England’s campaign in Ireland, is attempting to ignore the pressure from his family to find a suitable wife as he prepares to join the Earl of Leicester’s army in the Netherlands.

Although Bess and Edmund are drawn to each other, they are aware that they can have nothing more than friendship. Bess knows that Edmund’s wealth and family connections place him beyond her reach. And Edmund, with his well-honed sense of duty, has never considered that he could follow his own wishes.

With England on the brink of war and fear of Catholic plots extending even into Lady Allingbourne’s household, time is running out for both of them.

Love is no game for women. The price is far too high.

 

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Books

Catherine MeyrickAuthor Bio:

Catherine Meyrick

Catherine Meyrick is a writer of historical fiction with a particular love of Elizabethan England. Her stories weave fictional characters into the gaps within the historical record – tales of ordinary people who are very much men and women of their time, yet in so many ways are like us today. These are people with the same hopes and longings as we have to find both love and their own place in a troubled world.

Catherine grew up in regional Victoria, but has lived all her adult life in Melbourne, Australia. Until recently she worked as a customer service librarian at her local library. She has a Master of Arts in history and is also an obsessive genealogist. When not writing, reading and researching, Catherine enjoys gardening, the cinema and music of all sorts from early music and classical to folk and country and western and, not least of all, taking photos of the family cat to post on Instagram.

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Guest Post: “Life at the Tudor Court” by Karen Heenan

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I am pleased to welcome Karen Heenan to my blog today to discuss life at the Tudor Court. This is part of the book tour to promote Karen Heenan’s book, “Songbird (The Tudor Court, book 1). Thank you The Coffee Pot Book Club and Karen Heenan for allowing me to participate in this tour. 

“Bess!”

The voice, close to my ear, startled me awake. I’m alone in the bed, and the small attic room shared by the female members of the music is empty but for Flora and one other girl. They are nearly dressed—I’m late. Bolting out of bed, I asked Flora, “Why didn’t you wake me?”

She shrugged. “The rest of us get up when Mistress Edith calls.” Relenting, she said, “Here, I’ll help you.”

I pulled my nightdress over my head and washed quickly at the basin. Flora handed me my shift, then helped lace my kirtle. My hair was braided for sleeping, so I pinned it into a hasty knot and settled a white linen coif over it, hoping I wouldn’t run into Nick Hawkins when I looked so untidy.

Breakfast was served in the great hall, which was filled with trestle tables and benches. Servants brought out great bowls of steaming pottage and pitchers of ale, and there were loaves of bread set along the length of the table, for us to cut with our knives.

When the trenchers have been cleared, and the remaining food was taken away for manners—to feed the beggars at the gate—we make out way to the chapel. I let my mind drift during mass until the choir begins to sing. It is impossible not to pay attention to every sound, every note—my dream, when I first arrived, had been to sing in the choir, but girls were not permitted to offer their voices to God. No one had still given me a good explanation as to why.

If we were at Greenwich—where we would travel in the morning, the king had decided to move from Westminster in London—we could also attend the local church, St. Nicholas. Their choir was inferior, but it was pleasing to get outside the palace. The king had less need of us at Greenwich than Westminster, where we were held constantly within call.

Once mass was done, I was free to do what I liked until dinner. Flora had gone off with friends, so I went up to the practice rooms. Someone might be willing to play for me, but if not, I would sing along. If I was fortunate, Tom would be there. He was my dearest friend, and a talented lutenist and composer, though he would blush and deny that his songs are any good.

Someday it would be known, and his songs would be sung all over the court, and perhaps all over England.

He was there, supervising the packing of the many musical instruments which would be transported to Greenwich, along with all the nobles and a good number of the court servants, and all their varied possessions.

 “Do you want me to play for you?” he asked, swaddling a lute in soft wrappings like a babe. His own instrument, I knew, would travel in his grasp; Tom would not trust it to the rough men who loaded the carts and barges for the trip between palaces.

“I can wait.” I leaned against the window, watching the flurry of activity below. In addition to the carts which would start this day so that things might be in place when King Henry stepped off his barge on the morrow, there were the usual clusters of men and horses, servants scurrying across the courtyard on some errand or another, and, to my delight, a certain gentleman atop a shining black horse. 

I let my eyes rest on him. A man such as Nick Hawkins would never pay any mind to a minstrel girl, no matter how lovely my voice. The fact that he had spoken to me on occasion proved nothing. He was handsome—beautiful, really—and powerful, a friend of the king. A man who could have any woman in the kingdom, save the queen. 

He would never look at me.

I turned to Tom, smiling. He would always look at me, always see me for who I was. But it wasn’t the same, and though I loved him as a friend and a brother, I did not think of him as I drifted off to sleep.

“What will you have me play?” Tom settled on a stool with his instrument on his lap, the light from the narrow window falling on his fair hair. “Bess?”

“Sorry.” I shook away my fancies. “We are to perform this evening for the French ambassador and his party.” 

“At least we will have time to eat.” He tuned the lute carefully. “And we will be in the gallery, so you can watch the gathering to your heart’s content.”

I ignored his words, knowing he was teasing. I did like singing from the gallery so I could watch the crowd, and not just because of Nick. It was more impressive, somehow, from above. Crowded in the narrow gallery with the other minstrels, with the horns and drums and shawms, and Tom’s lute singing a sure line beneath for me to follow, I was at peace and could watch the dancers and pretend I was one of them.

A gathering for the French ambassador was sure to run late; I should go back to the girls’ chamber and pack my things for the morning so that when we were done, I could just fall into bed. “Are you happy about going to Greenwich?”

“What does it matter?” he asked. Seeing my expression, he said, “I am if you must know. The stables are closer to the palace.”

Tom loved horses, and though our indoor lives gave us little contact with the beasts, when we were at Greenwich or visiting the cardinal at Hampton Court, he always found his way to the stables. I was glad he was happy, but prolonged time in the stables made me sneeze, and I preferred to walk in the gardens if I was to take my scant free time outdoors.

Other minstrels came in and we went over our evening’s program until the bells chimed eleven; then we all streamed downstairs to dinner. I stayed with Tom; even if the others left us after the meal, we would probably sing and play together until it was time to get ready for the evening’s entertainment. Despite my dreams of greater things, singing with him was when I was happiest, and when I knew that my father had done the right thing. 

I belonged in this place.

 Several hours later, changed into a green gown and clean coif, with my few things packed into a small chest for the morning, I reassembled with other members of the Music in the gallery overlooking the presence-chamber. The vast room was hung on all sides with vivid tapestries depicting scenes both secular and religious, interspersed with gold and silver plate that reflected the hundreds of candles lighting the space.

The king was all aglitter himself, clad head-to-toe in cloth of gold studded with diamonds and pearls. His queen, Katherine, was dressed more soberly, though her fabrics were equally rich. They sat on their thrones under the gold cloth of state, speaking quietly, until the music started. Then the king stopped, mid-sentence, his ear cocked toward the gallery. How fortunate that Tom had instructed the others to begin with one of Henry’s own songs. 

He leaned over to the French ambassador, who stood near the throne, and gestured toward us. I imagined he was telling the Frenchman that he’d written the song—though he praised us lavishly, it was much more likely that he was taking credit for the song.

I sang while the people below mingled and preened, showing off their finery for the king and each other. When the dancing started, I would step back; my voice did not lend itself to the stately pavanes which began the dancing each evening. Those were for the musicians—Tom, Harry, and Gilbert would play their instruments and the courtiers would parade slowly down the length of the room, bowing and circling, flirting with their eyes and their hands, the only parts of their bodies which touched during the dance.

King Henry began the dancing, leading Queen Katherine down from the dais and onto the floor. The jeweled crowd stepped back to give them room, and they traversed the floor alone, the focus of all eyes before the king raised his hand and called for everyone to join him. Then the courtiers paired off, men swiftly bowing before ladies and taking their chosen partner to join the king. 

Nick was there, I noticed almost immediately. He danced with the prettiest women, and once arrived before a woman at the same time as King Henry, bowing deeply and giving way to his monarch, who would dance until dawn if allowed. The queen would retire early, taking her women, though some of them crept back after Her Majesty had been settled for the night.

It was after midnight when the chamber finally began to empty. I sipped from the ale which had been set aside for us; my throat was dry from singing for hours in the stuffy gallery. Tom was yawning behind his hand, and several of the other looked as though they were asleep on their feet. I was still wide awake, but perhaps it was excitement: it was spring, and tomorrow we would journey to Greenwich, where I had begun my life with the Tudor court.

[Illustration #1 – Palace of Westminster, Wikipedia]

[Illustration #2 – Minstrels, Nikki Piggott, photographer, used w/permission]

[Illustration #3 – Greenwich Palace, Wikipedia]

Blurb

She has the voice of an angel…

But one false note could send her back to her old life of poverty.

After her father sells her to Henry VIII, ten-year-old Bess builds a new life as a royal minstrel, and earns the nickname “the king’s songbird.” 

She comes of age in the dangerous Tudor court, where the stakes are always high, and where politics, heartbreak, and disease threaten everyone from the king to the lowliest musician.

Her world has only one constant: Tom, her first and dearest friend. But when Bess intrigues with Anne Boleyn and strains against the restrictions of life at court, will she discover that the biggest risk of all is listening to her own stubborn heart?

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Narrated by Jennifer Summerfield

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Author Bio

Karen Heenan

Karen Heenan was born and raised in Philadelphia, PA. She fell in love with books and stories before she could read, and has wanted to write for nearly as long. After far too many years in a cubicle, she set herself free to follow her dreams—which include gardening, sewing, traveling, and, of course, lots of writing.

She lives in Lansdowne, PA, not far from Philadelphia, with two cats and a very patient husband, and is always hard at work on her next book.

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