Tag Archives: Tudor

Incendium by A.D. Swanston

Bantam Press | 2017 (23 February) | 400p | Review copy | Buy the book

Incendium by A.D. SwanstonIt is 1572 and Elizabethan England is threatened as never before. Mary Queen of Scots might be locked away in Sheffield Castle but she remains the focus for Catholic plotters, their fire fuelled by the Pope’s support and by bloody violence done to Protestant Huguenots in Paris and across France. Spanish and French ships are poised to invade, to steal the crown from the heretic queen. Assassins hide in London’s crowded streets. As the summer heat intensifies and the fear of plague stirs, London, England and Elizabeth herself look ready to ignite and explode. And there is competition to be the one to win the eternal glory of lighting that fuse.

Dr Christopher Radcliff is a lawyer in the service of Elizabeth’s longterm favourite, Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. Leicester more than anyone wants to protect Elizabeth, and Radcliff, a man with agents hidden across the city, is just the person to help him. There are rumours of a new plot, codenamed ‘Incendium’, and its roots are believed to lie in Paris. But people in London are already starting to disappear and be killed, Radcliff’s own agents among them. It’s soon clear that this is no ordinary plot, its conspirators cunning and powerful, their ambition limitless. And they are one step ahead of Radcliff, at least.

Incendium is the first in a new historical series by A.D. Swanston, the author of the marvellous Thomas Hill trilogy set during the Civil War and Restoration (review of The King’s Return). Incendium is every bit as good if not better. The early 1570s were a fascinating time in English history – the persecutions and executions of Bloody Mary were still within recent memory while the overt threat of the Armada was still some time off. While Elizabeth wished to be tolerant of her subjects’ private religious beliefs, in contrast to her sister Mary, this moderation was now severely tested. She only had to look across the channel to the horrors committed in France in 1572 – events which are portrayed here – to know that she and her kingdom were in real personal danger. Elizabeth’s spymaster Sir Francis Walsingham is away in Paris so Leicester tries to do what he can but he is out of his depth and it shows.

Radcliff is a wonderful character, resourceful and intelligent and he needs to be. He’s also no fool and is well aware that Leicester could get him killed. He’s also been changed by what he’s seen overseas. It haunts him. But Radcliff is aided by some hugely likeable individuals, such as his mistress Katherine Allington, and Ell, a whore who spies for Radcliff but can also make him laugh. Then there’s Rose, Radcliff’s elderly housekeeper, who does what she can to keep her master fed and watered, even when her own roof is rained down in a storm. And there are many more who come and go through these pages.

This is a novel full of character and life and I loved its portrait of Elizabethan London, in the heat and later in the snow. We’re taken into all sorts of places, ranging from palaces to prisons, and all are vividly painted.

Incendium faces head on the ugliness of Elizabethan spying and counter-spying – it could result in brutal murder on one side and the atrocious horror of legal torture and execution on the other. Neither Radcliff and Leicester care for torture but Leicester is unhappily aware that, while he could not carry it out himself, he must ask others to do it for him. Elizabeth’s protection is all that matters. Swanston also doesn’t shy away from the Catholic slaughter of the Huguenots in Paris. I’ve always been fascinated by these appalling events and Incendium is built around them.

Incendium perfectly combines history and fiction, historical figures and those that aren’t, and together they paint such a colourful and compelling picture of Elizabethan London at a crucial time for its Queen and her servants. As a historical thriller it worked perfectly. I loved every page. I can’t wait to meet Christopher Radcliff again.

Other posts
The King’s Return
Spies and spying in the Civil War – a guest post by Andrew Swanston

What’s in a name? – Guest post by Joanna Hickson, author of First of the Tudors

First of the Tudors by Joanna HicksonOn 1 December, Harper published First of the Tudors by Joanna Hickson, the first in a new series of novels to portray the rise to power of quite possibly the most famous, and infamous, royal dynasty in English history. It begins with Jasper Tudor, uncle to the young Henry Tudor, later Henry VII, and what a fantastic story it is. Moving from castle to castle at a time when England and Wales were torn apart by the Wars of the Roses, First of the Tudors is a thoroughly enjoyable and lively account of such a fascinating time and Jasper Tudor is placed right at the heart of it all.

To celebrate the publication of First of the Tudors, I’m delighted to host a guest post by Joanna Hickson, in which she discusses the problems she encountered in naming her historical characters. Jasper Tudor had a very unusual name, even for the 15th century. Where did that come from? And what to do when so many important historical figures share the same name?

Review of First of the Tudors

What’s in a name?

When you write novels based on the history of medieval Europe there is often a problem identifying one character from another, because the same Christian names crop up time and time again in the family trees of the major dynasties. In England during the fifteenth century for instance the name Henry occurs confusingly often, cropping up in kings no less than four times and, due to the habit of sycophantic nobles calling their offspring after the reigning monarch, in almost every other courtier family fortunate enough to have sons. In First of the Tudors I have avoided repetition by calling Margaret Beaufort’s posthumous son, who was dutifully baptised Henry, by the Welsh variant of his name, which is Harri, leaving the ‘proper’ name to his half-uncle, King Henry VI.

Red Rose, White Rose by Joanna HicksonIt was a device I adopted in one of my previous novels set earlier in the century when the name Richard had become almost ubiquitous, owing to the initial popularity of the boy-king, Richard II. I made a guess that this could have been awkward for young noblemen arriving at court twenty years later saddled with the name of a monarch who had been unceremoniously usurped by his cousin Henry Bolingbroke, who became King Henry IV. So, having an embarrassment of Richards to deal with in Red Rose White Rose I decided to give one of the three central Richard characters the nickname Hal after the new king’s son and heir, who Shakespeare also nicknamed Prince Hal. And following this thread, I had no hesitation in calling my Hal’s son and heir Dick rather than Richard, because he was a pugnacious character who became a very powerful earl, played a key role in the Wars of the Roses and eventually became famously known as ‘Warwick, the Kingmaker’. That left me free to use the name in full for his cousin, who so nearly became King of England himself, Richard, Duke of York, husband of the novel’s central character, Cicely Neville.

It was necessary to be similarly inventive when Henry VI’s longed-for heir was baptised Edward, named for the pre-Norman-conquest saint, King Edward the Confessor, at whose shrine in Westminster Abbey his mother had prayed desperately for a son. Unfortunately when this little prince was still a child, his cousin Edward of York seized the throne and became King Edward IV and suddenly there were too many Edwards in my timeline! However, as his mother was a French princess and a lady who dominated her monkish and withdrawn husband, I considered it more than likely that she would have insisted on using the French version of his name, so that he becomes Prince Édouard in the pages of my book. In the same vein, despite English historians invariably referring to her as Margaret of Anjou, she appears as Queen Marguerite in First of the Tudors, because one of the other important female characters is Lady Margaret Beaufort, also a proud and strong-willed woman, who definitely would not have appreciated having her name ignobly shortened to Meg or Maggie!

The Agincourt Bride by Joanna HicksonHappily I had no identity dilemma with the hero of First of the Tudors – Jasper Tudor. In fact it was his unusual Christian name that drew me to him in the first place as it was a conundrum I confronted in The Tudor Bride, a novel which focussed on the clandestine ‘misalliance’ between Henry V’s widow Queen Catherine de Valois and her Master of the Wardrobe, Owen Tudor. While their firstborn son received one of the usual panoply of noble names, being baptised Edmund, I felt I had to figure out why the couple went completely off-piste for their second and called him Jasper? While I would not claim that no other boy was baptised with that name in England in the fifteenth century, I have not come across one during many, many years of researching the period.

Don’t get me wrong, I personally think Jasper a splendid name and lucky are the several hundred boys who have received it annually in twenty first century Britain. But in 1430, which is roughly when my new hero was born, it was unusual – probably unheard of – in England. And therein lies a clue, for there were a number of Jaspers documented in France at the time and of course his mother, once again, was French. Jasper was thought to be a corruption of Caspar, one of the Three Magi who were much revered in the medieval Roman Catholic Church and perhaps a name given to boys born on Twelfth Night or Epiphany, celebrated as the day the Magi brought their gifts to the baby Jesus. The other two were called Balthazar and Melchior, names very occasionally also found in medieval European courts.

The Tudor Bride by Joanna HicksonSo as a princess, Catherine de Valois could have heard of the name but what circumstance might have caused her to break with English noble tradition and give it to her younger son? Well, Jasper also happens to be the name of a semi-precious gemstone, much used in medieval jewellery, most frequently in its red form known as bloodstone, although it comes in many and varied colours. Jasper Tudor was a redhead; the Welsh bards who sang his praises during the Wars of the Roses particularly refer to this fact. This is one of the delights of writing historical fiction; coincidence is allowed and we wander spellbound in the realms of extrapolation from the little snippets of information our research throws up. Another of them that rose to the surface for me was the fact that medieval midwives believed jasper to be an aid in relieving the pain of childbirth. It did not require a huge leap of imagination to picture Queen Catherine owning an item of jewellery set with bloodstones and for it to be used during the birth of her second Tudor child, a boy that proved to have hair the colour of those stones.
Jasper was a name that suited him perfectly, as a powerful courtier and wandering knight errant and one that actually ‘made his name’. For although he was created Earl of Pembroke by his half-brother Henry VI and should therefore have officially been referred to as Lord Pembroke, in the poetry of the Welsh bards and other fifteenth century historical sources he was simply called Lord Jasper – my hero!

First of the Tudors by Joanna Hickson

Harper | 2016 (1 December) | 528p | Review copy | Buy the book

First of the Tudors by Joanna HicksonIt is 1451 and Henry VI, a troubled and unhappy man, more monk than king, realises that he is in need of family. He has been unable to give his queen, Marguerite of Anjou, the child they need to secure their royal line, and the royal dukes are becoming increasingly watchful and belligerent. Henry summons his half-brothers to court, Edmund and Jasper Tudor, the sons of a secret and illegal marriage between Henry V’s widow Catherine of Valois and the Welsh poet Owen Tudor who stole her heart. Soon they are the confidants of Henry and his queen, given titles and lands, precedence, and the prospect of a rich and noble marriage. Lucky for them, then, that there is another new person at court – Margaret Beaufort, the charismatic, painfully young and tiny heiress, the richest in the land and in the gift of the king.

Edmund and Jasper endeavour to find their way at court in their different ways, with Edmund being the one to win Margaret Beaufort. Jasper deals with his disappointment in the best way he can, serving Henry as his most loyal and trusted servant, providing advice and support to Henry and then to Marguerite as Henry slips into illness and the country descends into civil war. Jasper has other cares. The fates have dealt their hand and Jasper is now custodian of Edmund and Margaret’s son, Henry Tudor. And it is in raising Henry, looking after his grand estates in Wales and growing close to Jane, young Henry’s governess, that Jasper finds comfort. But the call to arms isn’t far off as the Duke of York declares war on the king. The future has never been so uncertain for Henry VI, Jasper, Margaret Beaufort and the young Henry Tudor.

First of the Tudors picks up the thread of the story begun with The Agincourt Bride and continued with The Tudor Bride. These magnificent, enchanting novels told the tale of Catherine of Valois’ transformation into Henry V’s Queen of England and then, pulling happiness from grief, wife of Owen Tudor. And now, Joanna Hickson returns to the story of Catherine’s family, focusing on her second Tudor son, Jasper, and his closeness with her royal son, Henry VI. There’s no need at all to have read these two books before – First of the Tudors begins afresh – but I can never resist the opportunity to urge people to read The Agincourt Bride and The Tudor Bride. I adore these two books and how good it is to find that First of the Tudors is every bit as wonderful.

As is regularly the case with Joanna Hickson’s novels, the narrative is split between two characters. This time Jasper’s perspective is alternated with that of Jane, the woman he loves and looks after his household and his ward Henry Tudor. This structure works brilliantly well because it gives the reader the best of both worlds – the court and the progress of war and the more domestic story of the childhood of Henry Tudor, with all of the instability brought about by the Wars of the Roses. I loved the characters of Jasper and Jane and their story is every bit as involving as the grander one played out by Henry VI, Marguerite, the Duke of York and Warwick the Kingmaker. But all these characters and more are also brought to life.

A standout figure for me is Margaret Beaufort. Joanna Hickson captures something enthralling about her. There is a power and strength to her that contrasts so well with her vulnerability and, for the earlier part of the novel at least, her innocence. Watching that innocence be destroyed is one of the most affecting and compelling parts of the novel. I’ve read many portraits of Margaret Beaufort in fiction over the years and this is without doubt my favourite.

Despite the focus on Jasper, Margaret, Jane, Henry VI and Queen Marguerite, there is another figure here who carries the weight of destiny on his young shoulders – Henry Tudor. First of the Tudors is the first, I trust, in a new series that will chart Henry’s path to the throne and I am so excited at the prospect. Henry VII is one of the most fascinating figures in English royal history but has, perhaps not surprisingly, always been overshadowed in fiction, and perhaps in history, by his son Henry VIII and his granddaughter Elizabeth I. But it’s with Henry Tudor that it all began and it’s an astonishing story and his uncle Jasper has such an important part to play in it.

There is romance in First of the Tudors but it isn’t a romantic novel, nor is it focused on the battles of the Wars of the Roses. Instead, this is a marvellous character-driven portrait of a family, albeit an extraordinary family with no normal cares and worries, leading unusual lives. And the setting is equally evocative. This is a tale that moves between castles. Coincidentally, I visited a fair few of the castles mentioned here in September and now I am desperate to go back. Joanna Hickson has brought those stone walls back to life and filled them with the voices of the people who called them home. With no doubt at all, this is one of the most enjoyable reads I’ve had this year and it’s the perfect novel to curl up with on a long winter’s evening.

Other reviews
The Agincourt Bride
The Tudor Bride
Red Rose, White Rose
An interview

The Lives of Tudor Women by Elizabeth Norton – ‘Of Babies and Bellies’

The Lives of Tudor Women by Elizabeth NortonThe Tudor period continues to fascinate – a period dominated by so many larger-than-life, charismatic, powerful, fearful, proud and dangerous personalities, male and female. But what was life like for a Tudor woman away from the public eye, in those major life-changing moments, such as marriage, giving birth, widowhood, but also in her daily life? In The Lives of Tudor Women, Elizabeth Norton presents the seven ages of the Tudor woman from childhood to old age, from the first years of the Tudor period to its end in 1603, through the examples of a number of very different women, ranging from the royal to the merchant’s wife to the peasant and servant. Their stories highlight many aspects of the Tudor age, including the intimate and homely as well as the religious and the unconventional.

To celebrate the publication of The Lives of Tudor Women this month by Head of Zeus, I’m delighted to host a special post. Below you’ll find an extract from Chapter 1 – of Babies and Bellies – in which Elizabeth of York, Henry VII’s queen, faces the anxiety of pregnancy and childbirth.

The Lives of Tudor Women – Book Extract from Chapter 1: Of Babies and Bellies

Towards the end of January or early February 1492, Queen Elizabeth of York, felt a familiar fluttering in her womb – a fluttering that provided proof that she had conceived for the fourth time.

Henry VII’s queen was, by then, close to the midway point of her pregnancy. But in the first months of pregnancy, the condition was notoriously difficult to diagnose. Could her symptoms merely be ‘her natural sickness or store of water’? Alternatively, could her increase in girth be due to ‘some windy matter’ rather than an expected baby? There were signs, of course, which could indicate pregnancy; but few physicians were prepared to confirm their diagnosis until the child actually began to stir in the womb. A mistake could be highly embarrassing for all concerned, and so for months women were left on tenterhooks.

The first gentle movements, when they came, were testament to the fact that a new life had begun. For as far as most Tudors were concerned, life did not begin at conception. The man’s seed entered ‘the woman’s privitie’ as one physician coyly called the neck of the womb, there to be met by a matching seed, released by the woman. To contemporaries, these were the raw materials for a child.

Even before conception, most Tudor parents had a preference for boys. They were then anxious for some hint that their wish had been gratified. It was theoretically possible, asserted some physicians, to tell the sex, since boys occupied a right chamber to a sub-divided womb and girls the left. This segregation was, of course, a myth (‘but dreams and fond fantasies’), as others rightly realized. Life itself was deemed to begin when the soul entered the fully formed foetus, which occurred at 46 days for a boy and 90 days for a girl. A Tudor girl was thus nearly three months in the womb before her contemporaries considered her to be a living person.

The question of gender still gnawed at the minds of many Tudor parents as the mother’s sickness subsided and her stomach began to swell; and most Tudor mothers wanted a son. The wealthier sort of parents could interrogate their physicians on the sex, their questioning filling the doctors with despair. ‘It is very hard to know at the first whether the woman be with child or no,’ complained the French royal physician, Dr Guillimeau, towards the end of the sixteenth century, and ‘so by great reason must it needs be far more difficult to discern and distinguish the difference of the sex, and to determine whether it will be a boy or a wench’. They were not miracle workers. But even Dr Guillimeau believed there were certain signs a mother could look for. Everyone knew that men were hotter than women, which gave them strength, intelligence and vigour. It stood to reason then that younger women, who became hotter than their seniors, would bear boys.

There were, it was thought, some helpful things prospective parents could do to better their chances of conceiving the right gender. Those most anxious for a boy should refrain from sexual intercourse when the wind blew southwards, since this was almost sure to result in a girl. The pregnant woman could also scrutinize her reflection – was her complexion clear? If so, it could be a boy. Carrying a girl was harder work, and so the mother would have ‘a pale, heavy, and swarth countenance, a melancholic eye’. Boys reputedly lay higher in the wombs than girls – again due to their heat – while a girl would lie ‘at the bottom of the belly, because of her coldness and weight’. Carrying a girl was even believed to affect a mother’s health more adversely than carrying a boy.

In early 1492, at least Queen Elizabeth of York could content herself that she had already fulfilled her dynastic duty, with the births of two fine sons – even though death could strike down seemingly healthy children at any moment.

Once pregnancy was established, it behoved a mother to ensure the health of both herself and her child. Spending her time in ‘good tempered air’ was particularly important, as was a good diet. Pregnant women also had to think about clothing, since few women owned an extensive wardrobe. Even queens adapted their existing clothes, with extra panels added to their dresses. They could supplement them with more-specific maternity wear, such as ‘self grow’ waistcoats, kirtles and gowns, which could be let out as the wearer’s pregnancy advanced. To begin with, gowns could first be unlaced to make them roomier, before more drastic changes were required. Women would also think about clothes for the birth itself. It was common for Tudor women to wear a hood with a shoulder cape in which to give birth.

Elizabeth of York may initially have had concerns over her fourth pregnancy, because she had conceived only three months after the birth of her second son, Henry, on 28 June 1491. Her husband, heir to the House of Lancaster, had won his crown on the field at Bosworth in August 1485 – inaugurating the Tudor dynasty. His marriage to Elizabeth, who was the eldest daughter of the Yorkist King Edward IV, had helped cement his position by unifying the houses that had fought for decades. To the royal couple, who were frequently surrounded by proud demonstrations of the new dynasty, each of their ‘issue lawfully born’ helped to symbolize their union and their hold on the throne. Nonetheless, such a rapid new pregnancy in 1492 – almost certainly an accident – was a cause for concern, given the very real dangers that threatened women in pregnancy and childbirth.

Three Sisters, Three Queens by Philippa Gregory

Three Sisters, Three Queens | Philippa Gregory | 2016 (9 August) | Simon & Schuster | 560p | Review copy | Buy the book

Three Sisters, Three Queens by Philippa GregoryWhen Katherine of Aragon arrives in England at the turn of the 16th century to marry Prince Arthur, heir to the Tudor throne, the feelings of Arthur’s sister Margaret are conflicted. While she is pleased to welcome another sister and potential ally to court, her envy of Katherine’s superior status as Princess of Wales threatens to consume her. Margaret and her younger sister Mary are Tudor princesses, arrogantly confident in their superiority, perhaps, paradoxically, because their dynasty is the newest in Europe, the crown seized in battle not inherited. But Katherine’s fortunes are to waver as Arthur dies and Henry VII seems reluctant to honour her subsequent betrothal to the new heir, Prince Henry. Margaret couldn’t be more delighted.

As Katherine’s position at court flounders, Margaret’s ascends. She is married to James, King of Scotland, becoming Queen of this richly cultured and volatile land. But Margaret’s position is threatened by none less than Katherine. Now Henry VIII’s Queen, it is Katherine as Regent during Henry’s absence in France who destroys Margaret’s life, with Margaret’s despair compounded by her sister Mary’s illustrious marriage to the King of France. As the tables turn once again, Margaret must contend with everything pitted against her and the list is long. The result for Margaret is heartbreak, helpless love, betrayal.

Three Sisters, Three Queens is the tale of Margaret, Katherine and Mary – Queens of Scotland, England and France – but it is Margaret who dominates and it’s her voice that tells the story, spoken in the present tense to give us even greater access into the motivation that drives her on despite all that is thrown against her. We follow Margaret from her childhood and so the narrating voice is initially that of a child but, as time passes, the voice alters, the cares and emotions become those of an adult, a wife, a mother, but some things never change. And here that is Margaret’s competitive envy of her sisters, her need to surpass them but also to please them. Love and hate co-exist here just as they seem to co-exist in so many of Margaret’s relationships. Margaret is a complicated person, and so too is her relationship with Katherine in particular.

Katherine’s presence is felt throughout this novel and her influence on Margaret’s life is powerfully felt. The two women meet little but Katherine is never far from Margaret’s thoughts, as seen by their letters and news from the English court where Katherine is slowly losing her influence and place in Henry’s heart. Both women have grief and treachery to overcome but they continue to tread carefully around the other. Mary on the other hand is a glamorous, beautiful figure – the favourite – but even she is bound to suffer. I did enjoy the moments when Mary comes on to the stage. There’s an innocence to Mary which is missing from Margaret. As Margaret is all too aware – it’s so easy to fall for Mary.

I was utterly captivated by Three Sisters, Three Queens. Margaret isn’t the easiest woman to warm to – her arrogance and jealousy aren’t the most attractive traits – but her life is astonishing. Always overshadowed by Henry VIII, who plays a relatively minor part here and when he does appear it’s in the unfamiliar role of brother, Margaret more than deserves a novel in her own right, as Philippa Gregory demonstrates so wonderfully. You couldn’t make this story up and as a result the novel is packed full with drama, intrigue, action and peril as well as intimate moments of love and tragedy. I couldn’t help but warm to Margaret while, by contrast, I was little moved by Katherine. But this book is full of fascinating, memorable figures, particularly in the Scottish court, and the action is moved along by politics at their most devious and treacherous.

I used to think that I wouldn’t be able to read another Tudor novel but it’s books like this, a marvellous book, that reveal that there is so much more to explore in this most extraordinary, larger than life period of history.

Other review
The Taming of the Queen

The Girl in the Glass Tower by Elizabeth Fremantle

The Girl in the Glass Tower | Elizabeth Fremantle | 2016 (2 June) | Michael Joseph | 454p | Review copy | Buy the book

The Girl in the Glass Tower by Elizabeth FremantleLady Arbella Stuart was the Queen England so nearly had. Cousin to Elizabeth I, a descendent of Henry VII, Tudor blood running hotly through her veins, she was also the granddaughter of the indomitable Bess of Hardwick, the Countess of Shrewsbury. And Bess was determined to work the court, influence the mighty Cecil, to ensure that, when the time came for the ageing Elizabeth I to accept that her fate could be no different from that of any other mortal, Elizabeth would pick Arbella as her heir. Their other cousin, James VI of Scotland, son of the vanquished, beheaded Mary Queen of Scots, has his own eyes set on the throne, not least because he has one advantage over Arbella Stuart that she can never take from him – James is a man.

Arbella is a victim of the ambition of those around her. She turns from child to woman as a pawn in their game. The extent of their schemes only becomes apparent bit by bit, as Arbella struggles to hear news from court. The plot of the Earl of Essex has so incensed Elizabeth against any perceived rival to her throne – to any reminder that she will and must die – that she banishes Arbella from court. The court turns on its conspiracies and suspicious thoughts, Catholicism beginning to raise its head over the parapet, nobles shifting in their precarious seats. James is at the centre of much of it, but Arbella increasingly finds herself its victim, as planned marriages come and fade away, and she becomes little more than a prisoner to her grandmother and her Queen.

In The Girl in the Glass Tower, Elizabeth Fremantle once again picks the story of a fascinating, important and yet overlooked Tudor woman to tell. Although each novel is independent, there are echoes of the other novels, particularly in the shadow of the Lady Jane Grey’s equally tragic sister Katherine Grey (Sisters of Treason), whose bed Arbella must sleep in, and the resilient Penelope Devereux, sister of the Earl of Essex (Watch the Lady), who is one of the few to offer genuine friendship to the young woman. Arbella is likewise determined, well-educated, loyal and, given the chance, loving, but in The Girl in the Glass Tower we are shown just how little power this most noble of women had. How little any other woman would have cause to envy her. We follow her life through the years and it is painful and pitiful to watch the ways in which she tries to control her life, by controlling her body, making it undesirable, untouchable and touchless. This is a forceful portrait of a woman who has no choice but to make the best of her lot and the fact that, when she does stir this costs the lives and/or the well being of the few who love her, is not lost on Arbella Stuart.

But Arbella is not the only woman featured here. The novel is divided between Arbella’s story, told in the past tense, and that of another historical figure Aemilia Lanyer (Ami), a writer and poet, told in the present. Ami became a friend of Arbella’s before Ami fell from grace from the court of King James for her woman’s defence of Eve. Ami’s story is very different. She too has a struggle to stay independent but this is much more a matter of financial survival. But her memories and thoughts of Arbella give her both comfort and guilt and they also provide us with a fascinating portrait of James’s court and his Queen, two figures almost completely overshadowed in fiction by their glamorous Tudor predecessors.

The Girl in the Glass Tower is beautifully written, as you’d expect from Elizabeth Fremantle. Also just as you’d expect, it is full of psychological insight and empathy. I really enjoyed the way in which Ami is shown to exert her influence over the people who want to grind her into the dust. Likewise, I admired Arbella’s fortitude. Arbella’s story isn’t a happy one, this is a melancholic novel, but I did find that Arbella always kept her distance from me, keeping me from becoming too emotionally attached to her destiny. When she falls in love, the echoes of Katherine Grey are particularly strong. I found Ami much easier to empathise with, although, at times, harder to understand.

Much of the action of the times takes place on stage while we spend most of the novel in the wings or backstage, or even out of the theatre altogether, with Arbella and Ami. We do enjoy a couple of visits to court but otherwise events pass Arbella by and, like her, we have to rely on the letters and visits of others to her isolation, far from London. This does make for a slower pace at times but it is a colourful, rich one. I enjoyed the literary allusions, to Shakespeare and others, and the spectacular glimpses we see of this fascinating, charismatic, uncertain era. I love how Elizabeth Fremantle throws a whole new light on this age by focusing on some of the lesser known female figures. Lady Arbella Stuart deserves to be remembered.

As a footnote, I must comment on the title. I’ll be very happy when ‘The Girl’ is banished from the titles of books about women. Otherwise, this is a very attractive hardback.

Other reviews
The Queen’s Gambit
Sisters of Treason
Watch the Lady

Eliza Rose by Lucy Worsley

Eliza Rose | Lucy Worsley | 2016 | Bloomsbury | 354p | Bought copy | Buy the book

Eliza Rose by Lucy WorsleyWhen Elizabeth (Eliza Rose) Camperdowne turns twelve years old and stands in front of her father, the formidable Baron of Stone, she knows that her adult life is about to begin. Eliza is told that she is to marry the Earl of Westmorland’s son. She is the daughter of a noble house. Duty is paramount! Eliza’s mother died when she was just four and so her Aunt Margaret is the one to provide the words of advice while her maid Henny is the one with the comfort. Eliza does what she’s told.

But even the best laid plans have a habit of going wrong – Eliza swears it wasn’t her fault – and the marriage comes to nothing. Touched by the hint of scandal, Eliza is sent to Trumpton Hall, the home of the Duchess of Northumberland, where she and lots of other noble young ladies will be trained to be maids at court. With Eliza will go her cousin, Katherine Howard. Who knows? In time, they may even be sent to court to serve Henry VIII’s new Queen, Anne of Cleves. At court, they’ll have their pick of rich, noble husbands.

Lucy Worsley, royal palaces curator, has the gift of bringing history to life, through re-enactment and accessible scrutiny and mostly through fabulous documentaries on BBC4. I was so pleased to hear that Lucy had written a debut historical fiction novel for young readers and was lucky enough to go along to her talk all about it at the Oxford Literary Festival this spring. I’d bought the book the day before and by the time I queued to get Lucy to sign it, it was two thirds read. Addictive, engrossing, charming, packed with glorious Tudor detail, I was hooked on Eliza Rose, book and character, from the very first page.

The story of Katherine Howard, Henry VIII’s excitable and unfortunate fifth wife (and Hampton Court’s most famous ghost), is a familiar tale to many of us and now Lucy has given a new generation of potential history addicts an inspirational gift – a thoroughly entertaining and informative story about Katherine’s teenage years (not that she had many other years to write about). Katherine is/was a real person, as are the majority of the other people in the novel, and the nitty gritty detail about life at the Tudor court and in general at this time is vividly, fascinatingly presented, but Eliza is fictional. She still feels just as real, in a novel singing with historical authenticity. Eliza gives us access to all areas. She is an eye witness account to everything, including the King, but she also gives Lucy Worsley the chance to play with history and create another charming story within it.

Katherine Howard’s life was tragic and Lucy Worsley doesn’t spare her readers. We’re pulled through the emotional hedge as Katherine heads towards her fate and I wept through the final inevitable moments. This was also a coarse, sex-drenched court for all its splendid fabrics, feasts and monkeys, and we’re made well aware of this. Not in graphic detail by any means but there can be no doubt as to what went on.

Many of the figures here are beautifully drawn, especially Anne of Cleves (I loved her, I really did) and Henry’s jester. Katherine herself is a wayward girl, usually, ultimately, her own worst enemy, but she is just that – a girl – and who wouldn’t pity her? Eliza is a gem from start to finish. While the ending for Eliza didn’t feel quite right or believable enough to me, Eliza Rose is undoubtedly an extremely impressive debut novel from an author who obviously knows her stuff, writes brilliantly and with wit, and knows how to use that knowledge.

I grew up on the historical fiction of Jean Plaidy. I read every single one of her novels as a teenager and they played a crucial part in developing and inspiring my deep, deep love of history. My favourite Jean Plaidy novel is Murder Most Royal, Plaidy’s own account of the lives of Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard. I can’t tell you how many times I read it and there are lines and moments in it that I can still remember. All these years later we have a new novel about Katherine Howard, also aimed at younger readers, and I can see no reason why Lucy Worsley can’t inspire a whole new generation of readers, just as Jean Plaidy inspired me. I must also say, though, that Eliza Rose isn’t just for young readers. I’m a bit older than that and I adored it. More, please!