Edward II was, by the standards of the fourteenth century, an extremely unconventional king. As I wrote in my previous post on his character and hobbies, he enjoyed the company of peasants - eating dinner with carpenters and going swimming with a large group of 'common people', to name just two examples - and loved digging, thatching, rowing and numerous other activities considered incompatible with royal dignity.
With this in mind, plus the disasters of his reign and his general ineptness at ruling, it's hardly surprising that many of his contemporaries wondered if he really was royal. Rumours that he was a changeling were widespread during his reign, and matters came to a head in 1318 with the appearance of John of Powderham.
John, also known as John Deydras or Drydas, was (according to contemporary chronicles) the son of a tanner. He somehow gained access to the royal palace of Beaumont in Oxford, and claimed that "he was the true heir of the realm, as the son of the illustrious King Edward, who had long been dead. He declared that my Lord Edward was not of the blood royal, nor had any right to the realm, which he offered to prove by combat with him." (Lanercost Chronicle)
John's story was that as a young child he had been attacked and mauled by a sow in one of the royal residences, and had lost an ear. His nurse was far too terrified to admit this to the king, so substituted a carter's son for the royal child. John, who apparently bore a close resemblance to the king, was indeed missing an ear, and claimed that he, the rightful king of England, had been brought up by the carter while the peasant boy ascended the throne.
John was taken before Edward during the Northampton Parliament of 1318. Edward, who for all his faults was not lacking a sense of humour, greeted him with the words "Welcome, my brother". Edward in fact seems to have taken the whole affair as a huge joke and wanted to make John a court jester, but he was put on trial for sedition anyway, apparently at the request of some of Edward's barons. Finally, John admitted that his story was untrue, but he had been inspired to his actions by the Devil appearing to him in the form of a cat. In true medieval fashion, the 'rightful king of England' was hanged, with his cat alongside him.
Although Edward evidently found all this amusing, Queen Isabella was said to be "troubled beyond measure" by the appearance of John. Early in the twentieth century, Professor Hilda Johnstone wondered if this humiliating episode had sown seeds of doubt in Isabella's mind and ultimately led her along the path that ended with Edward's deposition in 1327. However, in her recent biography of Isabella, Alison Weir points out that there is no evidence that Isabella believed the story, and also that she was probably emotionally vulnerable after childbirth (their third child Eleanor had been born only a few weeks earlier). I believe that Weir's interpretation is the correct one.
It's easy to understand Isabella's concern - as the daughter of two sovereigns, Philippe IV of France and Jeanne, Queen of Navarre in her own right, she would have grown up with a strong belief in the power and dignity of royalty. I can imagine that Edward's love of 'peasant things' was incomprehensible and shameful to her, and for John of Powderham to publicly proclaim that her husband was not royal, but a carter's son - untrue though it certainly was - must have been profoundly humiliating.
As for Edward himself, his unconventionality and individuality are probably the most striking things about him. He was a man out of his time, a man who would have been much better suited to living in a later century, when his preferred activities (not to mention his love for men) would not have been so harshly judged, when a king with the 'common touch' would have been welcomed, not condemned. John of Powderham's story, a nine days' wonder in 1318, demonstrates how Edward and his unconventional behaviour were perceived by many of his contemporaries - with horror and disbelief.
26 August, 2006
18 August, 2006
Edward II Novel of the Week (6): 'The Death of a King' by P. C. Doherty
Published in 1985, this is the highly prolific Doherty's first novel. It takes place in 1345/6 and is narrated in the first person by Edmund Beche, a clerk who is ordered by King Edward III to investigate the circumstances of his father Edward II's death.
I enjoyed the structure of the novel - every chapter consists of a letter sent by Beche to his friend Richard Bliton, Prior of Crowland Abbey, as he details his investigations and discoveries. (According to Doherty's Isabella and the Strange Death of Edward II, Bliton was the confessor of Hugh Despenser the Younger. That must have been a full-time job.)
Unfortunately, Beche himself remains an engima - other than the fact that he's competent and resourceful, I feel that I never really learn anything about him as a character. This is also true for other characters - Edward III, for instance, never comes to life (admittedly, he only appears a couple of times) and few other people appear long or often enough to be fully rounded characters. Dowager Queen Isabella is emphatically an 'old bitch', as the narrative often calls her, and tries to have Beche murdered twice.
There are some historical inaccuracies, though nothing too bad. Beche states (in 1345) that he can't speak to Thomas Berkeley, Edward II's jailor, because he's dead. However, Berkeley lived to 1361, and his son was only fifteen in 1345, not the hardened soldier depicted here. The earl of Kent was executed in 1330, not 1329; Adam Orleton was not Bishop of Worcester in 1345, having been promoted to Bishop of Winchester in 1327; and it was in the reign of Edward III, not Edward II, when John Stratford was appointed Archbishop of Canterbury. (These are the kind of picky little details that only a hopeless anorak such as myself would spot, and are unlikely to bother the general reader.)
The 'error' that bothered me most, though, occurs early in the novel, when Edward III tells Beche that he was born in March 1312. In fact, Edward was born on 13 November 1312, a date which is undisputed. I assumed this was a careless error by Doherty, but there is a reason for this change - which I'll comment on later.
**NOTE: SPOILERS. In order to discuss the novel properly, I'm going to give away the 'secrets' that Beche discovers. Anyone intending to read the novel, and who doesn't want to know what happens, should stop reading here.**
Beche's journey takes him all over the country, to talk to Queen Isabella, the Bishop of Winchester, Lord Berkeley, and so on. He comes to realise that all is not as it seems, and comes to the startling conclusion that Edward II was not murdered at all, but escaped from Berkeley and is still alive in Italy. As if that revelation wasn't enough, Edward III's father is not Edward II, but Roger Mortimer. Edward III is desperate for this truth to remain hidden, as it means that he is not the true king of England, and would also invalidate his claim to the French throne.
This is the real reason for Doherty's 'careless error' with Edward III's date of birth. As Doherty certainly knows perfectly well, Edward II and Isabella were together in York in February/March 1312 to conceive Edward III, born in November that year. However, if Edward III was born in March 1312, this would push the date of his conception back to the summer of 1311 - when Edward II was on campaign in Scotland and nowhere near Isabella. Unfortunately for the Mortimer theory, Roger Mortimer spent the whole of 1311 in Ireland, and couldn't possibly have fathered Edward III. (Not to mention that there isn't a shred of evidence that his affair with Isabella began before 1322 at the absolute earliest, and probably not until late 1325.) And surely someone would have noticed if Isabella became pregnant when her husband was hundreds of miles away?
I have to say I find this very dishonest - to change a perfectly well-known, undisputed historical fact to fit your plot. However, for me it's the only major flaw in the novel. The plot unfolds very nicely, one startling revelation following another, and I loved seeing Edward II survive his imprisonment at Berkeley - the scene where he escapes with the Dunheved brothers is very well done. Edward himself appears at the end of the novel, in a monastery in Italy. He has taken the name Hugolino in memory of his friend Hugh Despenser, and is relieved to be free of the burden of kingship. He has no wish to return to England, or to become king again, but wants only to be left alone - a wish which sadly doesn't come true.
This is a very interesting take on the mystery of Edward II's death. Doherty makes Edward's survival seem plausible, and shows how the fact that he isn't dead affects Isabella and Edward III - they know he's still alive, but they don't know where. Isabella shuts herself up at Castle Rising with a large bodyguard, afraid of her husband taking revenge on her, and Edward III fears that his father will re-surface with the truth of his 'son's' paternity. I really love the idea of Edward II escaping from Berkeley and living out the rest of his life at peace.
The real question is, can this be what really happened...?
I enjoyed the structure of the novel - every chapter consists of a letter sent by Beche to his friend Richard Bliton, Prior of Crowland Abbey, as he details his investigations and discoveries. (According to Doherty's Isabella and the Strange Death of Edward II, Bliton was the confessor of Hugh Despenser the Younger. That must have been a full-time job.)
Unfortunately, Beche himself remains an engima - other than the fact that he's competent and resourceful, I feel that I never really learn anything about him as a character. This is also true for other characters - Edward III, for instance, never comes to life (admittedly, he only appears a couple of times) and few other people appear long or often enough to be fully rounded characters. Dowager Queen Isabella is emphatically an 'old bitch', as the narrative often calls her, and tries to have Beche murdered twice.
There are some historical inaccuracies, though nothing too bad. Beche states (in 1345) that he can't speak to Thomas Berkeley, Edward II's jailor, because he's dead. However, Berkeley lived to 1361, and his son was only fifteen in 1345, not the hardened soldier depicted here. The earl of Kent was executed in 1330, not 1329; Adam Orleton was not Bishop of Worcester in 1345, having been promoted to Bishop of Winchester in 1327; and it was in the reign of Edward III, not Edward II, when John Stratford was appointed Archbishop of Canterbury. (These are the kind of picky little details that only a hopeless anorak such as myself would spot, and are unlikely to bother the general reader.)
The 'error' that bothered me most, though, occurs early in the novel, when Edward III tells Beche that he was born in March 1312. In fact, Edward was born on 13 November 1312, a date which is undisputed. I assumed this was a careless error by Doherty, but there is a reason for this change - which I'll comment on later.
**NOTE: SPOILERS. In order to discuss the novel properly, I'm going to give away the 'secrets' that Beche discovers. Anyone intending to read the novel, and who doesn't want to know what happens, should stop reading here.**
Beche's journey takes him all over the country, to talk to Queen Isabella, the Bishop of Winchester, Lord Berkeley, and so on. He comes to realise that all is not as it seems, and comes to the startling conclusion that Edward II was not murdered at all, but escaped from Berkeley and is still alive in Italy. As if that revelation wasn't enough, Edward III's father is not Edward II, but Roger Mortimer. Edward III is desperate for this truth to remain hidden, as it means that he is not the true king of England, and would also invalidate his claim to the French throne.
This is the real reason for Doherty's 'careless error' with Edward III's date of birth. As Doherty certainly knows perfectly well, Edward II and Isabella were together in York in February/March 1312 to conceive Edward III, born in November that year. However, if Edward III was born in March 1312, this would push the date of his conception back to the summer of 1311 - when Edward II was on campaign in Scotland and nowhere near Isabella. Unfortunately for the Mortimer theory, Roger Mortimer spent the whole of 1311 in Ireland, and couldn't possibly have fathered Edward III. (Not to mention that there isn't a shred of evidence that his affair with Isabella began before 1322 at the absolute earliest, and probably not until late 1325.) And surely someone would have noticed if Isabella became pregnant when her husband was hundreds of miles away?
I have to say I find this very dishonest - to change a perfectly well-known, undisputed historical fact to fit your plot. However, for me it's the only major flaw in the novel. The plot unfolds very nicely, one startling revelation following another, and I loved seeing Edward II survive his imprisonment at Berkeley - the scene where he escapes with the Dunheved brothers is very well done. Edward himself appears at the end of the novel, in a monastery in Italy. He has taken the name Hugolino in memory of his friend Hugh Despenser, and is relieved to be free of the burden of kingship. He has no wish to return to England, or to become king again, but wants only to be left alone - a wish which sadly doesn't come true.
This is a very interesting take on the mystery of Edward II's death. Doherty makes Edward's survival seem plausible, and shows how the fact that he isn't dead affects Isabella and Edward III - they know he's still alive, but they don't know where. Isabella shuts herself up at Castle Rising with a large bodyguard, afraid of her husband taking revenge on her, and Edward III fears that his father will re-surface with the truth of his 'son's' paternity. I really love the idea of Edward II escaping from Berkeley and living out the rest of his life at peace.
The real question is, can this be what really happened...?
05 August, 2006
Review of Marlowe's 'Edward II'
Performed by the Wales Theatre Company and directed by Malachi Bogdanov at the Globe Theatre, Neuss, Germany, on 30 July. (See my earlier post for more details.) There's a review here, in German.
The play was pared down to the bare minimum of characters - only Edward II, Queen Isabella, Piers Gaveston, Roger Mortimer, the earls of Kent and Lancaster, Edward III, Edward's jailor Maltravers and his murderer Lightborn (and the earl of Arundel, very briefly). There was also a character 'Mario', played by Italian Daniele Monachella, the stage assistant. Mario represented Edward's supporters after the death of Gaveston.
I found this paring down of the text very effective, as it allowed far more focus on the themes of thwarted love, hate, revenge and deceit, and pointed up the harsh 'eat or be eaten' nature of power politics. Although one of the people I attended this performance with didn't enjoy it too much, I thought it was great. It was a very modern production, with frequent loud music - Blur, Coldplay, The Clash, etc - and modern costumes, including the earl of Lancaster as a football fan in an England shirt, shorts and trainers, Queen Isabella in a leopardskin dress, and the earl of Kent in a baggy suit with a beret and big trainers. And Piers Gaveston in black leather trousers...hubba hubba!
The setting was minimal, a bare stage surrounded by the bars of a cage. There was a claustrophobic feel to it all, as though the characters were trapped in a deadly struggle to the death, suffocating in their confinement, every little quarrel and quibble magnified by their proximity to each other.
The acting was uniformly excellent. Stephen Eliot-McDonald as Mortimer gave a commanding performance as a man with good intentions who is slowly corrupted by power, and Hester Ruoff was very believable as a woman driven to the end of her tether by her husband's neglect. On the other hand, it was impossible not to feel sympathy for Edward (Adam Dunseath) and Gaveston (Matt Rozier), lovers bewildered by the barons' persecution of them, wanting only to be together. Their love for each other was obvious and moving. Peter Wilkinson took the role of Edward III (he also played Kent) and made him a shy, uncertain teenager, who nevertheless found the strength to overthrow his mother and her lover.
However, I thought that Mike Rogers as the earl of Lancaster was the best thing in the play (Rogers will be a familiar face to viewers of British soap operas, as he's appeared in Coronation Street, Eastenders and Emmerdale). He also took the role of Lightborn and the small role of Arundel. Lancaster doesn't have a huge part in the play, but Rogers stole the show with his facial expressions and body language.
Some highlights:
- The performance began with Queen Isabella in a gold bikini, table dancing (only without a table!) to the sounds of 'Girls and Boys' by Blur. This was the prelude to Edward's coronation, a booze-up in a seedy nightclub which concluded with Edward's being given a golden key as symbol of his regality. King Edward wore his key throughout, until forced to give it up to Mortimer.
- Any time Edward and Gaveston appeared together was excellent, thanks to the intensity of their relationship and their defiance in the face of universal condemnation.
- The infamous red-hot poker scene was of course present. Mike Rogers (Lancaster) also took the role of Lightborn, and made him frightening and utterly sinister, amicably talking to Edward in his cell and eating a bag of M and Ms (and offering Edward one). Edward lay on a table, legs in the air, covered with a cloth. The 'poker' was a length of lead piping, four or five feet long, all of which was 'inserted' into Edward and then pulled out. The song 'Ring of Fire' was played throughout.
- My fiance considered Isabella's table dancing to be a particular highlight. ;)
In case this all sounds like doom and gloom, there were some nicely comic moments to lighten the mood: Mortimer, held at gun point by Mario, effortlessly knocking the gun out of his hand and escaping, and the earl of Lancaster muttering 'tw*t' (and I don't mean 'twit') under his breath several times whenever Edward or Gaveston annoyed him. Maybe you had to be there, but it was really funny, honestly. Edward's death scene was also grimly amusing, thanks to the music, Lightborn's facial expressions, and the fact that the insertion of the piping was physically impossible - meaning that Edward's death was less horrific than it might have been.
I've checked online, and so far haven't found any performances outside Germany, rather oddly. It was extremely fortunate for me that it took place in a theatre twenty minutes from my house (fate, almost)! All in all, this was an excellent production, well worth seeing, and I hope that it is taken to a wider audience.
The play was pared down to the bare minimum of characters - only Edward II, Queen Isabella, Piers Gaveston, Roger Mortimer, the earls of Kent and Lancaster, Edward III, Edward's jailor Maltravers and his murderer Lightborn (and the earl of Arundel, very briefly). There was also a character 'Mario', played by Italian Daniele Monachella, the stage assistant. Mario represented Edward's supporters after the death of Gaveston.
I found this paring down of the text very effective, as it allowed far more focus on the themes of thwarted love, hate, revenge and deceit, and pointed up the harsh 'eat or be eaten' nature of power politics. Although one of the people I attended this performance with didn't enjoy it too much, I thought it was great. It was a very modern production, with frequent loud music - Blur, Coldplay, The Clash, etc - and modern costumes, including the earl of Lancaster as a football fan in an England shirt, shorts and trainers, Queen Isabella in a leopardskin dress, and the earl of Kent in a baggy suit with a beret and big trainers. And Piers Gaveston in black leather trousers...hubba hubba!
The setting was minimal, a bare stage surrounded by the bars of a cage. There was a claustrophobic feel to it all, as though the characters were trapped in a deadly struggle to the death, suffocating in their confinement, every little quarrel and quibble magnified by their proximity to each other.
The acting was uniformly excellent. Stephen Eliot-McDonald as Mortimer gave a commanding performance as a man with good intentions who is slowly corrupted by power, and Hester Ruoff was very believable as a woman driven to the end of her tether by her husband's neglect. On the other hand, it was impossible not to feel sympathy for Edward (Adam Dunseath) and Gaveston (Matt Rozier), lovers bewildered by the barons' persecution of them, wanting only to be together. Their love for each other was obvious and moving. Peter Wilkinson took the role of Edward III (he also played Kent) and made him a shy, uncertain teenager, who nevertheless found the strength to overthrow his mother and her lover.
However, I thought that Mike Rogers as the earl of Lancaster was the best thing in the play (Rogers will be a familiar face to viewers of British soap operas, as he's appeared in Coronation Street, Eastenders and Emmerdale). He also took the role of Lightborn and the small role of Arundel. Lancaster doesn't have a huge part in the play, but Rogers stole the show with his facial expressions and body language.
Some highlights:
- The performance began with Queen Isabella in a gold bikini, table dancing (only without a table!) to the sounds of 'Girls and Boys' by Blur. This was the prelude to Edward's coronation, a booze-up in a seedy nightclub which concluded with Edward's being given a golden key as symbol of his regality. King Edward wore his key throughout, until forced to give it up to Mortimer.
- Any time Edward and Gaveston appeared together was excellent, thanks to the intensity of their relationship and their defiance in the face of universal condemnation.
- The infamous red-hot poker scene was of course present. Mike Rogers (Lancaster) also took the role of Lightborn, and made him frightening and utterly sinister, amicably talking to Edward in his cell and eating a bag of M and Ms (and offering Edward one). Edward lay on a table, legs in the air, covered with a cloth. The 'poker' was a length of lead piping, four or five feet long, all of which was 'inserted' into Edward and then pulled out. The song 'Ring of Fire' was played throughout.
- My fiance considered Isabella's table dancing to be a particular highlight. ;)
In case this all sounds like doom and gloom, there were some nicely comic moments to lighten the mood: Mortimer, held at gun point by Mario, effortlessly knocking the gun out of his hand and escaping, and the earl of Lancaster muttering 'tw*t' (and I don't mean 'twit') under his breath several times whenever Edward or Gaveston annoyed him. Maybe you had to be there, but it was really funny, honestly. Edward's death scene was also grimly amusing, thanks to the music, Lightborn's facial expressions, and the fact that the insertion of the piping was physically impossible - meaning that Edward's death was less horrific than it might have been.
I've checked online, and so far haven't found any performances outside Germany, rather oddly. It was extremely fortunate for me that it took place in a theatre twenty minutes from my house (fate, almost)! All in all, this was an excellent production, well worth seeing, and I hope that it is taken to a wider audience.
31 July, 2006
My Favourite Edward II Novels
Carla, Sarah and Susan (and a few others) have all written about their five favourite historical novels recently. I decided to do it slightly differently, so here are my five favourite Edward II novels, in no particular order:
1) Gaveston by Chris Hunt - see my review of it here. Although it drags somewhat in the middle, it's a beautifully-written account of Edward II's long and passionate affair with Piers Gaveston, with impeccable historical accuracy, vivid description and a tender love story.
Oh, and lots of explicit gay sex. ;)
2) The Queen and Mortimer by Brenda Honeyman. I've just written a review of this (the post below this one). A well-written, balanced account of Edward II and Isabella which depicts all the main characters very nicely.
3) The Traitor's Wife by Susan Higginbotham. The story of Edward's niece Eleanor de Clare, a woman whose life was so fascinating I'm amazed there aren't a dozen novels about her. Moving and tragic, but also full of gentle humour, it portrays the complex politics and personalities of Edward II's reign with complete historical accuracy. And Susan even manages to depict Hugh Despenser the Younger sympathetically, while not glossing over his many crimes - no mean feat.
4) The She-Wolf by Pamela Bennetts. One of the very few Edward II novels that skips the Gaveston years, and most of Edward's reign, and begins in March 1325 - shortly before Edward sends Isabella to negotiate with her brother the king of France, the beginning of the end for Edward. Isabella here is cruel, calculating, and full of hatred and bitterness for her husband. Just about the only Edward II novel where Isabella is not a sympathetic character at any time.
I'll be writing a review of this novel fairly soon.
5) Isabel the Fair by Margaret Campbell Barnes. Traces Isabella's development from a young, innocent bride madly in love with her husband, through gradual disillusionment with his incompetence and male lovers, until finally she can take no more and rebels. There are a few historical inaccuracies in the novel, but it's a well-rounded, sympathetic portrayal of the Queen, and Edward comes off fairly well too.
I'll also write a review of this one in the near future.
1) Gaveston by Chris Hunt - see my review of it here. Although it drags somewhat in the middle, it's a beautifully-written account of Edward II's long and passionate affair with Piers Gaveston, with impeccable historical accuracy, vivid description and a tender love story.
Oh, and lots of explicit gay sex. ;)
2) The Queen and Mortimer by Brenda Honeyman. I've just written a review of this (the post below this one). A well-written, balanced account of Edward II and Isabella which depicts all the main characters very nicely.
3) The Traitor's Wife by Susan Higginbotham. The story of Edward's niece Eleanor de Clare, a woman whose life was so fascinating I'm amazed there aren't a dozen novels about her. Moving and tragic, but also full of gentle humour, it portrays the complex politics and personalities of Edward II's reign with complete historical accuracy. And Susan even manages to depict Hugh Despenser the Younger sympathetically, while not glossing over his many crimes - no mean feat.
4) The She-Wolf by Pamela Bennetts. One of the very few Edward II novels that skips the Gaveston years, and most of Edward's reign, and begins in March 1325 - shortly before Edward sends Isabella to negotiate with her brother the king of France, the beginning of the end for Edward. Isabella here is cruel, calculating, and full of hatred and bitterness for her husband. Just about the only Edward II novel where Isabella is not a sympathetic character at any time.
I'll be writing a review of this novel fairly soon.
5) Isabel the Fair by Margaret Campbell Barnes. Traces Isabella's development from a young, innocent bride madly in love with her husband, through gradual disillusionment with his incompetence and male lovers, until finally she can take no more and rebels. There are a few historical inaccuracies in the novel, but it's a well-rounded, sympathetic portrayal of the Queen, and Edward comes off fairly well too.
I'll also write a review of this one in the near future.
20 July, 2006
Edward II Novel of the Week (5): 'The Queen and Mortimer' by Brenda Honeyman
Published in 1974, this novel is, unfortunately, rather hard to find these days, and is currently unavailable on both Amazon UK and Amazon US. That's a shame, because it's well worth a read.
The most appealing feature of the novel for me is that all the main characters - Edward II, Queen Isabella, Roger Mortimer and Hugh Despenser - are portrayed very sympathetically, not something you find very often in Edward II novels. The characterisation is almost uniformly excellent. I didn't spot any glaring historical inaccuracies, except the story that Honeyman uses about Edward's murder: that Adam Orleton, Bishop of Hereford, suggests sending a letter in Latin ('Edwardum occidere nolite timere bonum est') to Edward's captors, that could either read 'Edward kill, not to fear the deed is good' or Edward kill not, to fear the deed is good', so that Isabella and Mortimer can remain free of suspicion in ordering Edward murdered. This story has been comprehensively discredited, and Orleton wasn't even in England at the time.
The Queen and Mortimer begins in 1318, and covers the main events of the second half of Edward's reign and the opening years of Edward III's reign, ending with the downfall of Isabella and Mortimer in 1330 (as Edward II novels almost invariably do). The complex politics of Edward II's reign are described in just enough detail, so that the reader understands the background, but are never allowed to swamp the narative, which focuses mainly on the relationships between the four main characters.
Perhaps surprisingly, there's almost no interaction between Edward and Isabella - there isn't a single scene in the novel where they appear alone together. Edward's attitude to his wife is never explored. Honeyman does examine Isabella's feelings for Edward, however. By 1318, she is intensely frustrated and comes to feel 'nothing but hatred and contempt' for him. However, he had once been a 'most satisfactory lover', even if their love had remained purely physical, and Edward had for a long time 'exercised a fascination for her in no way diminished by his sexual practices'. On the first page of the novel, Isabella remembers how happy she once was to be married to Edward, until she discovered that she was married to a 'sexually perverted husband'.
That is clearly Isabella's opinion, however, not Honeyman's, and I was pleased to see how sympathetic she is to Edward and his feelings for other men. Shortly before he and Hugh Despenser are captured in 1326, Edward remembers that 'from his adolescence on...he had been persecuted because he did not conform; because he was different; because he would not pretend to be something other than he was, a man who loved men.' The depiction of his relationship with Hugh is quite different from anything I've seen in other novels. Edward refuses to consummate his relationship with Hugh (a fact of which Isabella is perfectly well aware) because his 'deep and abiding love for Gaveston...precluded Edward's total giving of himself to any other man.' Hugh is lovesick, longing to make love with Edward, and sexually jealous both of Isabella and Piers Gaveston. Their relationship is stormy, and they often struggle for mastery. Finally, in 1323, they consummate it, in a lovely passage:
Edward could not say why he was about to betray the memory of Piers, to which he had remained faithful for so long...There was beauty in the world; why should he not have his share?
"Love me," he murmured, kissing his friend's lips. "Love me."
Tender and lovely.
Unfortunately for Isabella, now that Edward is 'blissfully fulfilled', he becomes totally indifferent to her needs, and Hugh becomes even more jealous of her, a jealousy which enormously increases his animosity towards her and causes him to work against her by depriving her of her estates and trying to petition the Pope for the annulment of the royal marriage. Isabella longs to take a lover, but dares not - at least, until she meets Roger Mortimer in Paris in late 1325.
Roger is attractively portrayed as energetic, vigorous, strong and ambitious. He is disgusted by Edward, but doesn't contemplate moving against the king until 1321, when he feels that Edward's actions give him no choice. Unusually for an Edward II novel, Isabella here plays no role in helping him escape from the Tower in 1323, and in fact she is almost unaware of his existence until 1325, when she dances with him in Paris and falls in love. Roger, too, has fallen in love with Isabella, a woman he had always been indifferent to. Unaware that Isabella feels the same way towards him, he attempts to begin an affair with another woman, until one day he and Isabella admit their feelings for each other. 'For now, she had no wish, no thought, no need but to give herself completely to this man whom she had coveted for so many weeks'.
Finally, Isabella comes to realise that she has little choice but to depose her husband, and execute the hated Despensers. She has inner conflict over her actions, though; after the execution of the younger Despenser - whom she detests, with good reason - she is frightened by her 'flight into barbarism' and terrified by the blood-lust she believes she has inherited from her father Philip IV. In 1330, she realises that 'what she had done was evil'. After the execution of her lover Roger, she comes to understand Edward much better: 'To both of them had been given the gifts of greatly loving and being loved...they had both known that fulfilment which only true and abiding love could bring'.
Most of the characterisation in the novel rings true to me. From the beginning, we see Isabella as a highly intelligent, capable woman who is intensely frustrated, both privately and politically. Nevertheless, she finds the strength to break out of her limited role. Edward II has been forced into a role he is unsuited for, but is an extremely likeable man, who is more interested in making a wooden doll for his daughter than in dealing with his rebellious barons in 1321. His key characteristic is his loyalty (although not to his wife...;). In 1326, he has the opportunity to make peace with the invading forces by giving up Hugh Despenser to Isabella and Roger, but he refuses to do it, although he realises that he has never loved Hugh.
Some of the minor characters are very well depicted, too. Shortly before his execution in 1322, Edward's cousin Thomas of Lancaster realises that he is dying for the crime of killing Piers Gaveston, which the king has never forgiven him for. 'And what good had that murder ever done him? Hatred and revenge, as Edward would soon discover, had a habit of going wrong.' Edward III's future wife Philippa appears in one scene, to tell Edward that she believes Isabella and Roger 'are concerned with...with seeking revenge for their own wrongs, not with righting the injustices of the people.' Edward III himself loves his father, but before the invasion he is determined to bring down the Despensers, so that his father can rule properly without his evil counsellors; 'He was too young to realise that the only real wound he could inflict upon the king was to deprive him of his lover.'
In conclusion, The Queen and Mortimer is a lovely little novel, filled with interesting insights. My only criticism is that, at less than 190 pages, it's much too short, and I would have loved to read more. Well worth a read for anyone interested in this period, if you can get hold of a copy.
The most appealing feature of the novel for me is that all the main characters - Edward II, Queen Isabella, Roger Mortimer and Hugh Despenser - are portrayed very sympathetically, not something you find very often in Edward II novels. The characterisation is almost uniformly excellent. I didn't spot any glaring historical inaccuracies, except the story that Honeyman uses about Edward's murder: that Adam Orleton, Bishop of Hereford, suggests sending a letter in Latin ('Edwardum occidere nolite timere bonum est') to Edward's captors, that could either read 'Edward kill, not to fear the deed is good' or Edward kill not, to fear the deed is good', so that Isabella and Mortimer can remain free of suspicion in ordering Edward murdered. This story has been comprehensively discredited, and Orleton wasn't even in England at the time.
The Queen and Mortimer begins in 1318, and covers the main events of the second half of Edward's reign and the opening years of Edward III's reign, ending with the downfall of Isabella and Mortimer in 1330 (as Edward II novels almost invariably do). The complex politics of Edward II's reign are described in just enough detail, so that the reader understands the background, but are never allowed to swamp the narative, which focuses mainly on the relationships between the four main characters.
Perhaps surprisingly, there's almost no interaction between Edward and Isabella - there isn't a single scene in the novel where they appear alone together. Edward's attitude to his wife is never explored. Honeyman does examine Isabella's feelings for Edward, however. By 1318, she is intensely frustrated and comes to feel 'nothing but hatred and contempt' for him. However, he had once been a 'most satisfactory lover', even if their love had remained purely physical, and Edward had for a long time 'exercised a fascination for her in no way diminished by his sexual practices'. On the first page of the novel, Isabella remembers how happy she once was to be married to Edward, until she discovered that she was married to a 'sexually perverted husband'.
That is clearly Isabella's opinion, however, not Honeyman's, and I was pleased to see how sympathetic she is to Edward and his feelings for other men. Shortly before he and Hugh Despenser are captured in 1326, Edward remembers that 'from his adolescence on...he had been persecuted because he did not conform; because he was different; because he would not pretend to be something other than he was, a man who loved men.' The depiction of his relationship with Hugh is quite different from anything I've seen in other novels. Edward refuses to consummate his relationship with Hugh (a fact of which Isabella is perfectly well aware) because his 'deep and abiding love for Gaveston...precluded Edward's total giving of himself to any other man.' Hugh is lovesick, longing to make love with Edward, and sexually jealous both of Isabella and Piers Gaveston. Their relationship is stormy, and they often struggle for mastery. Finally, in 1323, they consummate it, in a lovely passage:
Edward could not say why he was about to betray the memory of Piers, to which he had remained faithful for so long...There was beauty in the world; why should he not have his share?
"Love me," he murmured, kissing his friend's lips. "Love me."
Tender and lovely.
Unfortunately for Isabella, now that Edward is 'blissfully fulfilled', he becomes totally indifferent to her needs, and Hugh becomes even more jealous of her, a jealousy which enormously increases his animosity towards her and causes him to work against her by depriving her of her estates and trying to petition the Pope for the annulment of the royal marriage. Isabella longs to take a lover, but dares not - at least, until she meets Roger Mortimer in Paris in late 1325.
Roger is attractively portrayed as energetic, vigorous, strong and ambitious. He is disgusted by Edward, but doesn't contemplate moving against the king until 1321, when he feels that Edward's actions give him no choice. Unusually for an Edward II novel, Isabella here plays no role in helping him escape from the Tower in 1323, and in fact she is almost unaware of his existence until 1325, when she dances with him in Paris and falls in love. Roger, too, has fallen in love with Isabella, a woman he had always been indifferent to. Unaware that Isabella feels the same way towards him, he attempts to begin an affair with another woman, until one day he and Isabella admit their feelings for each other. 'For now, she had no wish, no thought, no need but to give herself completely to this man whom she had coveted for so many weeks'.
Finally, Isabella comes to realise that she has little choice but to depose her husband, and execute the hated Despensers. She has inner conflict over her actions, though; after the execution of the younger Despenser - whom she detests, with good reason - she is frightened by her 'flight into barbarism' and terrified by the blood-lust she believes she has inherited from her father Philip IV. In 1330, she realises that 'what she had done was evil'. After the execution of her lover Roger, she comes to understand Edward much better: 'To both of them had been given the gifts of greatly loving and being loved...they had both known that fulfilment which only true and abiding love could bring'.
Most of the characterisation in the novel rings true to me. From the beginning, we see Isabella as a highly intelligent, capable woman who is intensely frustrated, both privately and politically. Nevertheless, she finds the strength to break out of her limited role. Edward II has been forced into a role he is unsuited for, but is an extremely likeable man, who is more interested in making a wooden doll for his daughter than in dealing with his rebellious barons in 1321. His key characteristic is his loyalty (although not to his wife...;). In 1326, he has the opportunity to make peace with the invading forces by giving up Hugh Despenser to Isabella and Roger, but he refuses to do it, although he realises that he has never loved Hugh.
Some of the minor characters are very well depicted, too. Shortly before his execution in 1322, Edward's cousin Thomas of Lancaster realises that he is dying for the crime of killing Piers Gaveston, which the king has never forgiven him for. 'And what good had that murder ever done him? Hatred and revenge, as Edward would soon discover, had a habit of going wrong.' Edward III's future wife Philippa appears in one scene, to tell Edward that she believes Isabella and Roger 'are concerned with...with seeking revenge for their own wrongs, not with righting the injustices of the people.' Edward III himself loves his father, but before the invasion he is determined to bring down the Despensers, so that his father can rule properly without his evil counsellors; 'He was too young to realise that the only real wound he could inflict upon the king was to deprive him of his lover.'
In conclusion, The Queen and Mortimer is a lovely little novel, filled with interesting insights. My only criticism is that, at less than 190 pages, it's much too short, and I would have loved to read more. Well worth a read for anyone interested in this period, if you can get hold of a copy.
07 July, 2006
Death of Edward I, and other random stuff
Edward I died on 7 July 1307, exactly 699 years ago, at Burgh-on-Sands near the Scottish border. He was attempting another campaign against Robert Bruce, which his son, now King Edward II, immediately abandoned. The new king made clear what his priorities were by recalling his beloved Piers Gaveston from the exile imposed on him by Edward I a few months earlier.
***
Something I've just seen on Susan's website: a hilarious take on Christopher Marlowe's play called Edward II in 15 Minutes. My favourite bit:
ISABELLA: Your daddy is fucking the kingdom. Somewhat literally. Mr. Mortimer and I are making sure that it's going to be all straightened out for you. Also literally.
***
Also spotted lately on Bourgeois Nerd, the Advertising Slogan Generator. I put in 'Edward II', and these are my favourite results:
The best one: Men can't help acting on Edward II. I really need to get that printed on a T-shirt!
Suitable slogans for Piers Gaveston and Hugh le Despenser: Reach out and touch Edward II and Do the Edward II
Appropriate for Edward's strange (by fourteenth century standards) hobbies: Hand-built by Edward II and The curiously strong Edward II
Best slogan for this blog: I'm only here for the Edward II
***
There's been an article doing the rounds of blogdom lately. It talks about the fact that approximately 80% of English people alive today are descended from Edward III, and contains the following paragraph:
In 1312 the close adviser and probable lover of Edward II, Piers Gaveston, was murdered by a group of barons frustrated with their king's ineffectual rule. The next year the beleaguered king produced the son who became Edward III.
Had Edward II been killed along with Gaveston in 1312 — a definite possibility at the time — Edward III would never have been born.
I'm afraid this is total nonsense. Piers Gaveston was killed on 19 June 1312, and the future Edward III was born on 13 November in the same year. Gaveston's death had no impact whatsoever on Edward III's birth, as Queen Isabella was around four months pregnant at the time (and as I mentioned in a previous post, Edward III was probably conceived during the week-long celebration for the birth of Gaveston's daughter Joan). And there was really no 'definite possibility' that Edward II would be killed along with Gaveston. I doubt it would have occurred to anyone as early as 1312 - it took another fourteen years of misrule by Edward before his deposition was seriously considered. Although the deposition and murder of kings later became reasonably common, in 1312 it was practically unthinkable, however exasperated Edward's barons may have been with him.
***
Something I've just seen on Susan's website: a hilarious take on Christopher Marlowe's play called Edward II in 15 Minutes. My favourite bit:
ISABELLA: Your daddy is fucking the kingdom. Somewhat literally. Mr. Mortimer and I are making sure that it's going to be all straightened out for you. Also literally.
***
Also spotted lately on Bourgeois Nerd, the Advertising Slogan Generator. I put in 'Edward II', and these are my favourite results:
The best one: Men can't help acting on Edward II. I really need to get that printed on a T-shirt!
Suitable slogans for Piers Gaveston and Hugh le Despenser: Reach out and touch Edward II and Do the Edward II
Appropriate for Edward's strange (by fourteenth century standards) hobbies: Hand-built by Edward II and The curiously strong Edward II
Best slogan for this blog: I'm only here for the Edward II
***
There's been an article doing the rounds of blogdom lately. It talks about the fact that approximately 80% of English people alive today are descended from Edward III, and contains the following paragraph:
In 1312 the close adviser and probable lover of Edward II, Piers Gaveston, was murdered by a group of barons frustrated with their king's ineffectual rule. The next year the beleaguered king produced the son who became Edward III.
Had Edward II been killed along with Gaveston in 1312 — a definite possibility at the time — Edward III would never have been born.
I'm afraid this is total nonsense. Piers Gaveston was killed on 19 June 1312, and the future Edward III was born on 13 November in the same year. Gaveston's death had no impact whatsoever on Edward III's birth, as Queen Isabella was around four months pregnant at the time (and as I mentioned in a previous post, Edward III was probably conceived during the week-long celebration for the birth of Gaveston's daughter Joan). And there was really no 'definite possibility' that Edward II would be killed along with Gaveston. I doubt it would have occurred to anyone as early as 1312 - it took another fourteen years of misrule by Edward before his deposition was seriously considered. Although the deposition and murder of kings later became reasonably common, in 1312 it was practically unthinkable, however exasperated Edward's barons may have been with him.
24 June, 2006
Edward II Novel of the Week (kind of) (4): 'Infamous' by Virginia Henley
Thanks once again to Susan Higginbotham for sending me a copy of this. (My Edward II library would be smaller without her kindness.) Although I've decided to review it, Infamous is not really an Edward II novel; although he appears a few times, he only gets one line of dialogue, the eloquent and moving "I am now Edward the Second, King of England!" Infamous is the story of Marjory ( known as Jory) de Warenne, the (fictional) niece of the Earl of Surrey, and her relationship with Guy de Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick - a real person and abductor of Piers Gaveston. Edward II's sister Joan(na) of Acre is a major character and friend of Jory, and most of the other characters are real people.
Poor Edward II gets a pretty rough deal here. Later in the novel, he is a "poor excuse of a king". He "weeps like a girl", is an "elegantly garbed lout" and gets drunk and has a snowball fight on the day of his mother's death. Jory thinks disapprovingly "What an unseemly display when his mother has just died. Edward is no longer a child!" Well, yes, he was; he was six years old when his mother Eleanor of Castile died in 1290. Much later, Joan of Acre says that her brother will make a "piss-poor king" and, while discussing fighting and warriors, that he "hates martial arts". I can't get rid of a mental image of Edward reluctantly karate-chopping Roger Mortimer.
Historical inaccuracies
- the novel begins in 1290, at the time of Joan's marriage to Gilbert de Clare. It ends in 1308. Clearly, eighteen years have not passed in the narrative.
- Joan was twelve years older than her brother Edward II, not four.
- Roger Mortimer gets married in 1291, when he was actually four years old. (At least Henley gets his wife, Joan de Geneville, right.)
- Joan has only one child, a daughter named 'Margaret Eleanor'. Historically, she had four children by de Clare and four by her second husband Ralph de Monthermer. As it adds nothing to the plot and 'Margaret Eleanor' plays no role (though she does get the best line in the novel, the classic "My doggie pissed on the carpet") I don't see the point of changing this.
- Joan isn't sure if de Clare is the father of the mysterious 'Margaret Eleanor', as she slept with another man on the eve of her wedding. Historically, her first child Gilbert was born a little over a year after her wedding.
- Joan worries that her father Edward I will "set aside" her secret second marriage to Ralph. Apparently, she thought that he'd been elected Pope....the only man who had the authority to do this.
- Edward I was married to Eleanor of Castile for thirty-six years, not "almost fifty".
- The Earl of Warwick was eighteen in 1290, not thirty-four. His previous two wives are dead in the novel - in fact, he was divorced from his first wife Isabel de Clare and she outlived him, as did his second wife Alice de Toeni. Still, I'm not complaining about this too much, as he obviously needs to be single for the purposes of the novel.
- Warwick says that his son 'Rickard' (not Richard) is the same age as the future Edward II. In fact, Warwick's son was named Thomas, and he was born in 1313/4, thirty years later than Edward II.
- At the end of the novel, it's clear that Rickard and Roger Mortimer's 'sister' Catherine are falling in love. Warwick's son Thomas did marry Catherine Mortimer, but she was Roger's daughter, not his sister.
- the name 'Plantagenet' is used, more than two hundred years too early.
- the King is called 'Your Majesty', which wasn't used until the time of the Tudors. In the Middle Ages, kings were called 'Your Grace'. Likewise, it's anachronistic to refer to the King's daughter as 'Princess' - they were known as 'Lady'.
- Warwick is described as a Frenchman. In fact, he was no more French than any other of the English nobility of the time.
- Jory asks Warwick to teach her French, which would have been her first language.
- Roger Mortimer and others are furious that Edward II gives Roger's wardship to Piers Gaveston, 'proving' how 'unnatural' his affection for the other man is and that he will do anything to please his favourite. It was Edward I who gave Mortimer's wardship to Gaveston, in 1304.
- Edward II and Robert Bruce are the same age here; Bruce was ten years older (born 1274)
- Edward is present when Edward I dies near the Scottish border. In fact, he was in the South.
- Hugh Despenser the Elder is already Earl of Winchester in 1307, fifteen years too early.
- Lancaster is Edward II's uncle - he was his cousin.
Other irritations:
- I find the premise of the novel rather silly - Jory's uncle and brother refuse to marry her to the Earl of Warwick because he was sixteen years older. That strikes me as highly unlikely in the fourteenth century, as does the notion that they would turn down such a splendid match for Jory.
- Jory goes around everywhere with her hair uncovered, all the better to make men lust after her, which is improbable in the extreme for a married woman around 1300.
- Warwick constantly calls Jory chéri. That's the male version; the female version is chérie.
- Warwick hits the young Edward, on the day of his ill-advised and callous snowball fight. I doubt he could have got away with doing such a thing!
- It's Jory who has the brilliant idea that Bruce should marry the Earl of Ulster's daughter Elizabeth, who lives in his own household, to ally himself with the Earl. Because, you know, he'd never have thought of that himself.
- Joan says that she herself would make a much better king than her brother, but "Edward would make a far better queen!" Ooh, hilarious!
The novel contains a lot of amusingly bad "As you know, Bob" dialogue [that is, when one character tells another something s/he already knows, in order to inform the reader]. Some examples:
- "Your uncle, John de Warenne, and your brother, Lynx, will soon be arranging your marriage."
- "Your shining silver-gilt hair and pale green eyes make a perfect foil for the sultry dark colouring I inherited from my mother's Castilian ancestors."
- "You had an opportunity last year when we travelled to the Bruce estates in Essex for the ceremony where Bruce passed the Earldom of Carrick to his eldest son."
- "That happened the year after your brother wed Sylvia Bigod, the queen's lady-in-waiting."
- "Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloucester, is England's premier noble."
And that's just from the first scene of the novel!!
Some of the names are just ludicrous. For example, Jory's father is called Lincoln, her brother is Lynx, and her daughter is named Brianna. Lynx's son is Lincoln Robert. Puh-leeze! Looking at Virginia Henley's website, she does this a lot; three of her other heroines are called Jasmine, Sabre and Summer. *Sniggers*
A lot of the language seems far too modern and/or colloquial, and often rather American. On the first page, Joanna of Acre talks about 'going all the way'. Jory is 'conflicted' several times, ponders 'sexual compatibility' and 'sexual energy', and wonders if her husband is 'sexually inadequate'. Also, some of the euphemisms are very silly. "He gloved himself in her honeyed sheath"??! *Sniggers uncontrollably*. The unfortunate phrase 'honeyed sheath' crops up a few times, in fact, as does 'her woman's center' (in the American spelling).
Near the end of the novel, I was jolted right out of the story by the references to Edward II and Piers Gaveston as 'cocksuckers'. Piers is also called a 'Gascon bum-fucker'. Nasty. I suppose you could argue that Henley is describing contemporary attitudes, but there are numerous other ways they could be expressed without using such crudely offensive language. It really doesn't belong in a romance novel, in my opinion (or any other kind of novel, come to think of it) . Warwick's son 'Rickard' is sexually assaulted (off-stage) by Piers Gaveston, and Roger Mortimer leaves court to avoid the same fate. Men who love men just have to try to seduce every young man in sight, apparently.
Virginia Henley is a hugely popular and successful romance author, and I suppose I can see why. Jory is a lot less irritating than other romance heroines I've read, and Warwick is pretty damn sexy- though he's waaaay sexier earlier in the novel, when he's rather sinister, than later on, when he evolves into a kind of modern New Man. He unhesitatingly agrees to marry Jory although she is pregnant by another man, and even helps to deliver the baby (and manages to keep a straight face when Jory names her Brianna).
However, I think that if Henley chooses to write about real people, she should make more effort to get the - incredibly basic - details correct. Her next novel, provisionally entitled Scandalous or Notorious, due for publication next summer, deals with Queen Isabella and Roger Mortimer, with the delightfully-named Brianna as the heroine. I dread to think what Henley will do with Edward in this one.
In conclusion, this is reasonably enjoyable as a romance. But it bears little resemblance to the real fourteenth century.
Poor Edward II gets a pretty rough deal here. Later in the novel, he is a "poor excuse of a king". He "weeps like a girl", is an "elegantly garbed lout" and gets drunk and has a snowball fight on the day of his mother's death. Jory thinks disapprovingly "What an unseemly display when his mother has just died. Edward is no longer a child!" Well, yes, he was; he was six years old when his mother Eleanor of Castile died in 1290. Much later, Joan of Acre says that her brother will make a "piss-poor king" and, while discussing fighting and warriors, that he "hates martial arts". I can't get rid of a mental image of Edward reluctantly karate-chopping Roger Mortimer.
Historical inaccuracies
- the novel begins in 1290, at the time of Joan's marriage to Gilbert de Clare. It ends in 1308. Clearly, eighteen years have not passed in the narrative.
- Joan was twelve years older than her brother Edward II, not four.
- Roger Mortimer gets married in 1291, when he was actually four years old. (At least Henley gets his wife, Joan de Geneville, right.)
- Joan has only one child, a daughter named 'Margaret Eleanor'. Historically, she had four children by de Clare and four by her second husband Ralph de Monthermer. As it adds nothing to the plot and 'Margaret Eleanor' plays no role (though she does get the best line in the novel, the classic "My doggie pissed on the carpet") I don't see the point of changing this.
- Joan isn't sure if de Clare is the father of the mysterious 'Margaret Eleanor', as she slept with another man on the eve of her wedding. Historically, her first child Gilbert was born a little over a year after her wedding.
- Joan worries that her father Edward I will "set aside" her secret second marriage to Ralph. Apparently, she thought that he'd been elected Pope....the only man who had the authority to do this.
- Edward I was married to Eleanor of Castile for thirty-six years, not "almost fifty".
- The Earl of Warwick was eighteen in 1290, not thirty-four. His previous two wives are dead in the novel - in fact, he was divorced from his first wife Isabel de Clare and she outlived him, as did his second wife Alice de Toeni. Still, I'm not complaining about this too much, as he obviously needs to be single for the purposes of the novel.
- Warwick says that his son 'Rickard' (not Richard) is the same age as the future Edward II. In fact, Warwick's son was named Thomas, and he was born in 1313/4, thirty years later than Edward II.
- At the end of the novel, it's clear that Rickard and Roger Mortimer's 'sister' Catherine are falling in love. Warwick's son Thomas did marry Catherine Mortimer, but she was Roger's daughter, not his sister.
- the name 'Plantagenet' is used, more than two hundred years too early.
- the King is called 'Your Majesty', which wasn't used until the time of the Tudors. In the Middle Ages, kings were called 'Your Grace'. Likewise, it's anachronistic to refer to the King's daughter as 'Princess' - they were known as 'Lady'.
- Warwick is described as a Frenchman. In fact, he was no more French than any other of the English nobility of the time.
- Jory asks Warwick to teach her French, which would have been her first language.
- Roger Mortimer and others are furious that Edward II gives Roger's wardship to Piers Gaveston, 'proving' how 'unnatural' his affection for the other man is and that he will do anything to please his favourite. It was Edward I who gave Mortimer's wardship to Gaveston, in 1304.
- Edward II and Robert Bruce are the same age here; Bruce was ten years older (born 1274)
- Edward is present when Edward I dies near the Scottish border. In fact, he was in the South.
- Hugh Despenser the Elder is already Earl of Winchester in 1307, fifteen years too early.
- Lancaster is Edward II's uncle - he was his cousin.
Other irritations:
- I find the premise of the novel rather silly - Jory's uncle and brother refuse to marry her to the Earl of Warwick because he was sixteen years older. That strikes me as highly unlikely in the fourteenth century, as does the notion that they would turn down such a splendid match for Jory.
- Jory goes around everywhere with her hair uncovered, all the better to make men lust after her, which is improbable in the extreme for a married woman around 1300.
- Warwick constantly calls Jory chéri. That's the male version; the female version is chérie.
- Warwick hits the young Edward, on the day of his ill-advised and callous snowball fight. I doubt he could have got away with doing such a thing!
- It's Jory who has the brilliant idea that Bruce should marry the Earl of Ulster's daughter Elizabeth, who lives in his own household, to ally himself with the Earl. Because, you know, he'd never have thought of that himself.
- Joan says that she herself would make a much better king than her brother, but "Edward would make a far better queen!" Ooh, hilarious!
The novel contains a lot of amusingly bad "As you know, Bob" dialogue [that is, when one character tells another something s/he already knows, in order to inform the reader]. Some examples:
- "Your uncle, John de Warenne, and your brother, Lynx, will soon be arranging your marriage."
- "Your shining silver-gilt hair and pale green eyes make a perfect foil for the sultry dark colouring I inherited from my mother's Castilian ancestors."
- "You had an opportunity last year when we travelled to the Bruce estates in Essex for the ceremony where Bruce passed the Earldom of Carrick to his eldest son."
- "That happened the year after your brother wed Sylvia Bigod, the queen's lady-in-waiting."
- "Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloucester, is England's premier noble."
And that's just from the first scene of the novel!!
Some of the names are just ludicrous. For example, Jory's father is called Lincoln, her brother is Lynx, and her daughter is named Brianna. Lynx's son is Lincoln Robert. Puh-leeze! Looking at Virginia Henley's website, she does this a lot; three of her other heroines are called Jasmine, Sabre and Summer. *Sniggers*
A lot of the language seems far too modern and/or colloquial, and often rather American. On the first page, Joanna of Acre talks about 'going all the way'. Jory is 'conflicted' several times, ponders 'sexual compatibility' and 'sexual energy', and wonders if her husband is 'sexually inadequate'. Also, some of the euphemisms are very silly. "He gloved himself in her honeyed sheath"??! *Sniggers uncontrollably*. The unfortunate phrase 'honeyed sheath' crops up a few times, in fact, as does 'her woman's center' (in the American spelling).
Near the end of the novel, I was jolted right out of the story by the references to Edward II and Piers Gaveston as 'cocksuckers'. Piers is also called a 'Gascon bum-fucker'. Nasty. I suppose you could argue that Henley is describing contemporary attitudes, but there are numerous other ways they could be expressed without using such crudely offensive language. It really doesn't belong in a romance novel, in my opinion (or any other kind of novel, come to think of it) . Warwick's son 'Rickard' is sexually assaulted (off-stage) by Piers Gaveston, and Roger Mortimer leaves court to avoid the same fate. Men who love men just have to try to seduce every young man in sight, apparently.
Virginia Henley is a hugely popular and successful romance author, and I suppose I can see why. Jory is a lot less irritating than other romance heroines I've read, and Warwick is pretty damn sexy- though he's waaaay sexier earlier in the novel, when he's rather sinister, than later on, when he evolves into a kind of modern New Man. He unhesitatingly agrees to marry Jory although she is pregnant by another man, and even helps to deliver the baby (and manages to keep a straight face when Jory names her Brianna).
However, I think that if Henley chooses to write about real people, she should make more effort to get the - incredibly basic - details correct. Her next novel, provisionally entitled Scandalous or Notorious, due for publication next summer, deals with Queen Isabella and Roger Mortimer, with the delightfully-named Brianna as the heroine. I dread to think what Henley will do with Edward in this one.
In conclusion, this is reasonably enjoyable as a romance. But it bears little resemblance to the real fourteenth century.
20 June, 2006
Almost the Anniversary of Piers Gaveston's Death
Piers was executed/murdered on 19 June 1312. Guy Beauchamp, earl of Warwick, seized him from the custody of the earl of Pembroke and imprisoned him in Warwick Castle for a few days. The earls of Lancaster, Hereford and Arundel arrived at the castle and sentenced him to death. He was led a couple of miles away to Blacklow Hill, which was on the earl of Lancaster's lands, and beheaded. This was a great favour, a nobleman's death, granted to him because he was the brother-in-law of the earl of Gloucester. His body was taken to Oxford, where the friars couldn't bury him as he had died excommunicate. Eventually, the Pope lifted the excommunication, but Edward II still refused to bury the embalmed body of his beloved favourite until January 1315.
In memoriam: Piers Gaveston, c. 1283 - 19 June 1312.
In memoriam: Piers Gaveston, c. 1283 - 19 June 1312.
18 June, 2006
Two New Adaptations of Marlowe's 'Edward II'
Spotted on Lulu, a modern reworking of Christopher Marlowe's c. 1592 play Edward II, by Tal Lostracco. It "boldly portrays the sexual and political subtexts" of the play, and it has a pair of hotties on the front cover. What more could you want?? I'm definitely going to order this.
I'm rather ashamed to admit that I still haven't read Marlowe's play from beginning to end. I'm going to have to rectify that very soon, as I'm lucky enough to have tickets for a new production, on 30 July. It's directed by Malachi Bogdanov, performed by the Wales Theatre Company, in the German city of Neuss (on the other side of the Rhine from where I live) at the city's annual Shakespeare Festival. Here's a description of the production:
Edward II tells the tragic tale of a king who chooses to openly live his homoerotic passion for Gaveston, a Frenchman and alien element at the English court, setting his passion for this young man above the well-being of both his kingdom and his family. His queen, wounded and humiliated, falls under the control of the ambitious Mortimer, who, knowing he has both church and parliament behind him, hunts the king down like a wounded animal, his end a truly horrific one. Malachi Bogdanov directs the cast of the renowned Wales Theatre Company in this explosive mix of sex, crime and politics.
Sounds wonderful, doesn't it? I can hardly wait.
I'm rather ashamed to admit that I still haven't read Marlowe's play from beginning to end. I'm going to have to rectify that very soon, as I'm lucky enough to have tickets for a new production, on 30 July. It's directed by Malachi Bogdanov, performed by the Wales Theatre Company, in the German city of Neuss (on the other side of the Rhine from where I live) at the city's annual Shakespeare Festival. Here's a description of the production:
Edward II tells the tragic tale of a king who chooses to openly live his homoerotic passion for Gaveston, a Frenchman and alien element at the English court, setting his passion for this young man above the well-being of both his kingdom and his family. His queen, wounded and humiliated, falls under the control of the ambitious Mortimer, who, knowing he has both church and parliament behind him, hunts the king down like a wounded animal, his end a truly horrific one. Malachi Bogdanov directs the cast of the renowned Wales Theatre Company in this explosive mix of sex, crime and politics.
Sounds wonderful, doesn't it? I can hardly wait.
14 June, 2006
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