Mothering Sunday

Today is Mothering Sunday. It is a Christian festival which falls on the fourth Sunday in Lent and celebrates ‘mother church’. On this day people would return to worship at their mother church which was often a cathedral or large parish church. It was the place they had been baptised and where their family came from so it would also have been a day for family reunions. It was this that became the tradition of allowing servants to go to their family homes on this Sunday to visit their mothers and it was this that led to it becoming a celebration of motherhood as well. There was also a slight relaxation of the Lenten fast and traditionally Simnel cake was eaten on this day which is why it is also sometimes known as Simnel Sunday.

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Another grave

Here’s another interesting grave that I didn’t have room to include in my book Lancashire: Who Lies Beneath?

It is not the actual grave but the gravestone of Peter de Cestria, the first and only Rector of Whalley. It previously lay in the churchyard but was brought inside in 1950 to preserve it.

Peter de Cestria was an interesting man and a member, though not a legitimate one, of the de Lacy family. He was never actually a priest but rose to become a very influential man in the reign of King Edward I.

Although the remains of Whalley Abbey contain his chapel, that building pre-dates the abbey and Peter was set against the monks making the move from Stanlaw. They were only able to come after his death, eleven years after they had been promised the site by Henry de Lacy.

I’ve written more about Peter de Cestria on my page about the de Lacy family.

From a corruptible to an incorruptible crown

I went to Lyme Park in Cheshire today to see the exhibition ‘Charles I: King and Martyr’. Lyme Park has a set of chairs reputedly upholstered with the silk lining of the cloak in which Charles went to his execution. Also on display were a pair of the king’s gloves, his dagger and his eating knife as well as selection of images of him and his execution. It was fascinating but slightly chilling.

On the 30th January 1649, after reigning for almost 24 years, Charles went to his execution on a scaffold outside his palace of Whitehall in London having been found guilty of high treason.

He had ruled as an absolute monarch believing that he had a divine right to be king and had no need of parliament. His attitude had led to a civil war and even when defeated he refused to accept demands for a constitutional monarchy. At his trial he wore a hat throughout the proceedings to show that he did acknowledge the court’s authority and when he was found guilty he went to his death as a martyr. His final words were that he went ‘from a corruptible to an incorruptible crown’.

Following his death many people struggled with their guilt at the killing of an anointed king and a cult of sainthood grew up around him. Many of the pictures in the exhibition draw parallels between the execution of Charles and the death of Jesus.

Charles severed head was sewn back onto his body before it was taken for private burial at St George’s chapel, Windsor.

Clitheroe Castle

I went to Clitheroe Castle this afternoon. It’s been on my mind since I spent last weekend giving The de Lacy Inheritance a final edit.

There’s been a castle on the site since shortly after the Norman Conquest. The original would have been a timber structure and this stone keep was built around 1187 by Robert de Lacy, so at the time my novel is set it was only a few years old. Much of the story is set in and around the castle and in the photo below you can clearly see that it is built on an outcrop of limestone.

The small keep originally stood within a protective curtain wall with a gatehouse to the eastern side and within the bailey there were other buildings (possibly wooden) including the chapel of St Michael. Sadly no trace of these remain.

There are a couple of stories that account for the hole in the side of the keep. One says that the devil through a rock from Pendle Hill. The other says it was made by Cromwell’s army so that the castle couldn’t be used as a stronghold against them.

The site has recently undergone some redevelopment and now has a new and very interesting museum that has a range of exhibits about the history of the area as well as the castle.

Polishing!

No, not the furniture, the novel.

The de Lacy Inheritance was originally due for publication last autumn and I hadn’t looked at the text since around this time last year. I thought I was happy with it then, but when I opened up the file at the end of last week, wondering if I could lift a quote that might serve as a shoutline for the cover, I began to see things that needed changing. At least I thought they needed changing. I think the truth is that I will never be completely satisfied with what I’ve written and could go on taking a word out here and putting a comma in there for ever.

So I’ve spat on my finger and plastered down its unruly hair. I’ve wiped the imaginary smudge from its cheek and like a good parent I’ve let it go. Now I have to wait to see what someone else will make of it. Someone who doesn’t love it like I do and can see its faults. I’m hoping its going to get an A* and won’t need too much remedial work before it’s ready for print.

Out of the darkness into the light.

It’s been reassuring these past few days to notice that the daylight is lasting until almost 5pm and that when the sun does shine it has a quality that promises springtime. Today is an important celebration of light. It is Candlemass.

Candlemass is a Christian celebration that marks forty days after the birth of Jesus Christ – the day on which his mother Mary would have gone to the temple to be purified. The tradition of purification following childbirth has only very recently declined and although in later years it was marked as a thanksgiving ceremony it was (and may still be) surrounded in superstition. After I was born my mother’s neighbour would not allow her to visit her house until she had been ‘churched’ lest she should bring in some bad luck or evil spirit.

Candlemass is also associated with Jesus as the light of the world and is one of the ceremonies that survived Henry VIII’s Reformation. He proclaimed in 1539:

‘On Candlemass day it shall be declared, that the bearing of candles is clone in memory of Christ, the spiritual light, whom Simeon did prophesy, as it is read in the church that day.’

You’ll notice that he did not make reference to the purification of Mary.

The day is also associated with the predictions of the coming of springtime. If any of you still have any holly lurking from Christmas it should have been taken down last night:

‘Down with the rosemary and bays,
Down with the mistletoe;
Instead of holly now upraise
The greener box for show.’

An old European (German I think) proverb relates that if the badger comes out of his sett on Candlemass Day and finds snow he will ‘walk abroad’, but if the sun is shining he will return to his hole. Which is why some of you may be celebrating Groundhog Day. Let us hope for snow and for an early Spring.

Truth and Fiction

I’ve finally given up the struggle to keep all the information about three kings called Edward, a succession of tournaments and a huge cast of characters in my head. So I decided to drag the turn of the fourteenth century into the turn of the twenty-first century by creating a spreadsheet that gives a glimpse of who was doing what and when.

What’s fascinating about the exercise is that isolated pieces of information suddenly begin to make sense. You see the plots and the scheming and the deals that were being done behind the scenes and historical figures become real people with good reasons for doing what they did. For example Edward II didn’t ban Thomas, Earl of Lancaster from holding tournaments because he was a spoilsport, he did it because he didn’t want him getting together with other earls to hatch a rebellion.

The other good thing about making the spreadsheet is that you can see the gaps. When a character is as well documented as Henry de Lacy, for example, almost all of his whereabouts are recorded and so I can’t suddenly put him somewhere he wasn’t. (Even if I am writing fiction it is based in fact and I don’t believe that historical fiction authors should change facts because it’s surprising how many people actually learn their history from novels.) So, the good thing about gaps is that if a character is not as well known it’s acceptable to use some imagination to create their story. Often it’s a challenge to construct a story that works within the truth and also has a viable and compelling plotline that will keep my readers interested. Sometimes I wish that I could move people around or bend a few facts or change a few dates, but I resist because I believe that if I think about it for long enough I will find a solution and who knows, as long as there is nothing that disproves something I’ve written it could be the truth.