The Lord of Misrule Released On Amazon!

New Red Ned Novel Out!

Greetings my well regarded readers, I hope that all is well with you and yours as we rapidly approach the Yuletide celebrations.  Today I have a few announcements before we move on to the body of the blog.  First I would to extend my heartfelt sympathies to the family of Jacinta Saldanha, the staff of King Edward VIII hospital and Kate Middleton the Duchess of Cambridge for the trauma and sorrow caused by the deceitful, cowardly and callous actions of a few of my fellow Australians.  My personal reactions to this crime of fraud and breach of privacy is detailed in my other blog Prognostications and Pouting so for any interested I suggest you clink on the link for a quick visit.

To happier news, I would also like to announce that a new Red Ned story has been released on Amazon- The Lord of Misrule.  This new volume of Red Ned Bedwell’s misadventures is a compilation of the Yuletide tales comprising The Liberties of London, The Fetter Lane Fleece and the latest story A Comfit of Rogues, all brought together into one handy volume.  This will also be the first of my novels that will be committed to hard copy printing and with luck should be available by Christmas.

Now since I’ve already released prologues of all these novellas it’s pretty pointless to do so again.  Instead I thought I’d put up a short list of my Tudor sources, with a brief justification as to why a majority of  historical fiction writers go to such great lengths to present their story in its proper setting.

As with most writers those of us in this genre would like to take you on a journey into the past.  Sometimes just a decade or two, or maybe stretching back deep into the prehistory of the Neolithic.  To weave the visual and mnemonic tapestry of the tale requires a special set of talents, imagination, creativity, commitment, storytelling ability and most importantly resources to draw upon for the historical flavour and texture.  Luckily in these modern times we are blessed with the wonder of the internet, which has been both an enormous boon for its quantity of information and somewhat of a peril for its varying and occasionally dubious quality.  However for the serious historical fiction writer there is always the old standby resource - books.  Lots of them.

Visit the home of just about any writer of this genre and no doubt you’ll find book cases packed to the gunwales of all manner and type, both fiction and non fiction.  For this is the well of inspiration, the salmon of knowledge, where in we dip for the textural landscape of our setting. Such as the size and shape of the buildings, the weft of the clothing the sight and all too often smell of the era.  And most of all the placement and situations of our characters, their families, friends and rivals the very nature of their conflict, adversity or experience.  Without the aid of these splendid props our work would be so much the poorer, merely a thin soup of a serving, instead of a rich spicy banquet fit to stun the senses.

So as an inspiration and an example of some of the library here is a short list of the contents of my library.

The Lord of Misrule Book links

Amazon UK

Amazon US/Australia

Tudor Bibliography

Tudor London

Elizabeth’s London, Liza Picard

The Riverside Gardens of Thomas More’s London, Christianson

The A-Z of Elizabethan London

The Renaissance European Painting 1400-1600, McCorquodale

Cities of the Renaissance World, Swift and Konstam

The History of London in Maps Barker and Jackson

Walking Shakespeare’s London

Shakespeare’s London

 

Tudor Warfare

Weapons of Warre- The Mary Rose Trust

Elizabeth’s Wars Paul, E J Hammer

The Confident Hope of a Miracle, Neil Hanson

The Great Enterprise, Mattingly

War and Society in Renaissance Europe, JR Hale

Weapons and Warfare in Renaissance Europe, Bert S Hall.

Gunpowder, Jack Kelly

English Warfare 1511- 1642, Mark Fissel

the Military Revolution, Geoffrey Parker

Early Gunpowder Artillery, John Norris

Arms and Armour Annual, R. Held ed

Art Arms and Armour 1979-80, R Held ed.

Hafted Weapons in Medieval and Renaissance Europe, John Waldman

Osprey Publications

Henry VIII’s Army

Tudor Knights

The German Peasant Wars

Tudor Society

The Elizabethan Underworld, Gamini Salgado

A Notable Discovery of Coosnage 1591, Robert Greene

The Second Part of Cony Catching 1592, Robert Greene

A Groat’s Worth of Wit 1592, Robert Greene

The Early Tudors at Home Elizabeth Burton

The Tudor Housewife, Alison Sim

Tudor Pastimes and Pleasure, Alison Sim

Food and Feast in Tudor England Alison Sim

The Tudor Law of Treason, Bellamy

Strange and Inhuman Deaths Murder in Tudor England, Bellamy

Big Chief Elizabeth, Giles Milton

Undreamed Shores, Michael Foss

Tudor Rebellions, A Fletcher and Diarmaid McCulloch

Tudor England, ST Bindoff

Beer in the Middle Ages and Renaissance, Richard W Unger

Ale Beer and brewing: Women’s Work in a Changing World, Judith M Bennett

Treason in Tudor England, Lacy Baldwin Smith

The Pilgrimage of Grace, Moorhouse

English Merchant Shipping 1460-1540 Dorothy Burwash

Rethinking the Henrican Era, Herman Ed.

Foul Bills and Dagger Money R G Hamilton

Invisible Power: the Elizabethan Secret Service Alan Hayes

Medicine and Society in Later Medieval England

The Tudor Constitution, G R Elton

Authority and Disorder in Tudor Times 1485-1603, Paul Thomas

A Time Traveller’s Guide to Elizabethan England, Mortimer

The Complete works of William Shakespeare

Contested Will Who wrote Shakespeare, J Shapiro

What the Tudors Did for Us, Adam Hart-Davis

All the King’s Cooks: The Tudor Kitchens of Henry VIII at Hampton Court Palace, Peter Brears

Ale Beer and Brewsters in England, Judith M. Bennett

The Cambridge History of Urban Britain Vols 1-2

The Tudor Tailor, Mikhaila and Malcolm Davies

Period Costume for Stage and Screen 1500-1800, Jean Hunnisett

The Patterns of fashion, Janet Arnold

Tudor Court

In the Lion’s Court, Derek Wilson

The Life and Letters of Thomas Cromwell, Merriman

Letters to Cromwell, Cooke

The Lisle Letters, ed Muriel St Clare Bryne

Thomas More, Marius

Thomas More, Ackroyd

Thomas More, Roper and Harpsfield

Wolsey, Cavendish

The Reign of Henry VIII, Starkey

The Statesman and the Fanatic –Thomas Wolsey and Thomas More, Ridley

Rivals in Power, Starkey

A Tudor Tragedy, Lacy Baldwin Smith

The Mask of Royalty Henry VIII, Lacy Baldwin Smith

A Tudor Tragedy, Neville Williams

The Double Life of Doctor Lopez, Dominic Green

Henry VIII’s Divorce Literature and the Politics of the Printing Press, J C Warner

Great Harry, Carolly Erikson

Henry VIII The King and his Court, Alison Weir

The Children of England; The Heirs of Henry VIII Alison Weir

Elizabeth the Queen Weir

Mary Boleyn Alison Weir

The Lady in the Tower Alison Weir

The Six Wives of Henry VIII Alison Weir

Mary Tudor England’s First Queen, Whitlock

Henry VIII, Scarisbrick

Henry VIII, Bowles

The Last Days of Henry VIII, Hutchinson

Thomas Cromwell, Henry VIII’s most notorious minister, Hutchinson

Anne Boleyn, Joan Denny

Who’s Who in Tudor England, Rouse

The Infamous Lady Rochford, Julia Fox

The Queen’s Conjurer Benjamin, Woolley

The Uncrowned Kings of England, Derek Wilson

The Tudor Queens, Loades

Elizabeth, Starkey

Elizabeth’s Women, Tracy Borman

Mary Queen of Scots and the Murder of Lord Darnley, Alison Weir

Arabella England’s Lost Queen, Sarah Gristwood

My Heart is Not My Own, John Guy

Religion

The Reformation, Diarmaid McCulloch

The Pursuit of the Millennium, Norman Cohen

God’s Bestseller, Moynaham

Reformation Europe 1517-1559, G R Elton

Bloody Mary’s Martyrs, Ridley

Schisms in Christianity and the rise of Protestantism

Then of course we have the internet sources such as academic articles, national archives, online archives, the Guttenberg Project and university dissertations and if your keen that can take up weeks in the searching and compiling.  I think we’ll leave a taste of those resources for a later occasion.

To all my readers keep safe and well in this lead up to Yuletide and unlike Red Ned quaff in moderation.

Regards Gregory House

A Comfit of Rogues

 New Red Ned Novel out soon!

Greetings my well regarded readers, I hope that all is well with you and yours this northern Fall or southern Spring.  Today I have a few announcements before we move on to the body of the blog.  First I would like to congratulate Hilary Mantel at winning the Booker prize for the second time for her continuation of the Thomas Cromwell story in Bringing up the Bodies.  It is a splendid endorsement for all historical fiction across the genre and shows that our common past is a fertile ground for writers and readers.  So three cheers for Hilary!

I would also like to announce that this week a new Red Ned story will be released on Amazon- A Comfit of Rogues.  This tale, also set in novella form carries on from Ned’s near disastrous venture in The Fetter Lane Fleece.  It would appear that Ned has tweaked the noses of the Masters of Mischief and Roguery in the City and Liberties of London once too often.  Putting aside their rivalry they’ve signed a compact to ensure the removal of the meddlesome apprentice lawyer Ned Bedwell.  So can Ned count on anyone in the London Underworld for support, or is the reward of five gold angels in coin too much temptation for treachery? 

Prologue. A Festive Gathering

Throughout the Christian realm of His Sovereign Majesty King Henry VIII the twelve days of Christmas was a time of celebration. Doors and lynch gates were framed with holly and ivy and the last fasting ended on Christmas Eve with a joyous feast of the Saviour’s birth in every lord’s hall, yeoman’s house and beggar’s hovel. The Black Goat on Bride Lane in the Liberties of the Ward of Farrington Without was no exception, though here they also maintained the old tradition of a Lord of Misrule. For the season some wards and parishes proclaimed a boy bishop or elevated a humble servant with complimentary ragged rogues serving as the officers of Butler and Chancellor. Here only one man held that title and the bestowal of traditional gifts and favours, Earless Nick, the Lord of the Liberties from London Wall to Temple Bar.

This wasn’t any titled demesne such as that of the Duke of Norfolk with a carefully scripted parchment heavy with gilt and seals, though like a distant Howard ancestor it was a rank gained by the practice of murder and the ready effusion of blood. Not that this distinction mattered to those in the long procession snaking out of the tavern door. Earless Nick’s whims or pleasures held them enthralled in tighter bonds than even the slaves of the Sultan of the Moors, and considering the recent debacle here at the Black Goat, Nick’s moods had tended towards the darker shades of choler. There was also another factor that held them. Past Earless Nick’s silk draped chair of state was a feast of such sumptuousness that few had beheld outside of the Cardinal’s palace of Whitehall at York Place; capons in almond douce sauce, smothered rabbits and onions, a white pudding of hog’s liver, jelly hippocras and a roasted pheasant complete with feathers. As for the sweets and subtleties, one clever cross biter whispered to his drooling friends that three pounds of blanched almond sugar went into the modelled replica of Newgate Tower alone. For fellows and punks who scrounged, begged and thieved for a bowl of warm pease and bacon potage this was a spread of foods beyond compare. A veritable paradise of pleasure…though for some surveying their skimpy gleanings, gaining a seat at the feast wasn’t their only concern.

One by one the line shuffled towards the finely dressed figure taking his ease on lordly seat, each member of the fraternity dropping to their knees and presenting their prizes for judgement. To complete the feudal scene a clerk stood beside Earless scribbling notations in an iron clasped, leather bound book as the offerings were displayed. Then if acceptable, Wall-eyed Willis, Nick’s master of rogues and veteran of fifty fights in the brawling pits, would wave one of his lumbering lads forward to take the prizes and convey them to the heavy iron strapped chest set against the wall. After this Earless Nick would stare at his grovelling petitioner for a few seconds in deep deliberation before waving them off to join the company at the back of the commons who’d partake of the feast.

However in the regard of Earless Nick not all gifts were so easily accepted. One lanky longbearded fellow in a ragged cloak stepped forward and presented a bundle of clothes. Earless Nick frowned at the offering and signalled for it to be shaken out by a waiting minion and sat there tapping his lip with a ring covered finger. “Tis a poor week for a hookman tis it, Dickon?”

The hookman cringed at the question, his beard almost brushing the floor. “Aye Master Nick. Tis the snow an’ cold. They’s keeps their shutters sealed up tighter than a bishops cellar!”

Earless Nick gave a wintery smile and nodded. “So Dickon, its latched and shuttered windows that is the cause of your miserable pickings. Hmm, two old cambric shirts and a worn patched set of hoses.”

Dickon the hook man quickly nodded and spluttered out agreement through quivering lips. “Aye Master Nick. Tis ta cold fo’ them ta hang ou’ their clothes an sa’ I can’t gets em.”

Earless Nick continued to smile as he buffed his silvered rings on a piece of damask cloth. “So it wasn’t you seen passing four fine shirts to Ol’ Simkins in Little Drury?”

Dickon the hookman gulped nervously as his eyes darted around the common room seeking out the informant. “Na’ it weren’t I Master Nick. Sum cuffin’s a lying rogue ta yea.”

Earless Nick’s smile broadened as he picked up a horn cup and dropped a pair of dice into it. “Well Dickon, it may be so. Indeed it may and I’s a fair master so according to custom yea can throw an let the good Lord decide your fate.”

The hookman’s hand shook as he took the proffered cup and the dice rattled like a gallows drummer. Covering the open mouth of the cup with a grimy hand Dickon gave a wheezing prayer then spilled the dice on the floor with an abrupt fling

“Hmm, that’s a poor cast Dickon, a two.” Earless fastidiously rubbed his fingers with the velvet damask and scooped up the dice, a quick swirl around the cup and they leapt out then rolled to a stop displaying a ‘nick’. Earless leant back in his chair and shook his head in mock sadness. “The Lord God has judged against yea Dickon.”

The defeated hookman grovelled at his master’s feet whimpering and pleading as two of Wall-eye’s scowling lads dragged him over to a close set pair of posts to which they tied his arms. Nick gave another brief wave and one of Dickon’s escorts began lashing his back with a length of knotted rope. In between the howls of pain Earless Nick cast a long slow look at the gathered members of his company. Then into the sobbing silence he spoke in a voice low and menacing. “No man cheats the Lord of the Liberties. Remember it.”

The assembly cheered with eager gusto flavoured by the fact that it wasn’t them getting the beating. Given the last reception to the head of the queue there was no complaint as a pair of figures pushed their way to the front, though they did garner a fair amount of whispered speculation. The woman from her worn scarlet kirtle and pulled down chemise had to be a punk. Only a lass interested in gathering ‘trade’ would expose that much pale breast on a chilly winter’s day. To the rest of the crowd it wasn’t just the recent flogging that had them pull back. With her long blonde hair and vivid green cap only the most blind of beggars wouldn’t recognise Earless Nick’s favoured girl, Anthea, leader of the St Paul’s punks. But favour was a tricky thing. It ebbed and flowed like the Thames and according to many a sage whisper, due to the recent disturbance, Anthea was dry beached on the shores of Nick’s ill content.

The Lord of the Liberties spent some time watching the play of candlelight on a recent present, a gold ring inset with a sapphire, before acknowledging her presence with a twitched finger. As for her guest, the cloaked and hooded figure, it was as if it were as insubstantial as a spirit for all the regard Nick gave it. “Anthea my poppet, I’ve missed yea these last days. I hopes yea have recompense for your previous failings…?”

The question hung in the air with a dreadful menace and the audience of the Tavern swung their fascinated gaze towards the advancing punk. All were keen that someone other than them should suffer the further ill–humoured wrath of the Lord of Misrule. Anthea visibly swallowed then locked her arm around that of a hooded stranger before stepping forward into the empty space between the retreating petitioners and the Master of the Liberties. The punk captaine shook her long hair out of her eyes that glinted evilly in the reflected orange glow from the yuletide log. Several nips and foisters crossed themselves flinching as she passed, some making furtive gestures to avert ill fortune. Then at a pace’s distance with much bowing and grovelling Anthea threw herself down on her knees beside the chair of state and clutched at the hand of Earless Nick, rubbing her face on it like a fawning hound. “Nick my luv, I’s have a gift fo’ thee, a wonderful gift, the likes yea have not seen afo’. A sweet gift fo’ my sweet Lord o’ the Liberties.”

Nick turned his coldly impassive face toward his formerly favoured punk. The chilling interest reflected in his eyes would have set even the meanest wild rogue a trembling with fear. His lips stretched to the barest flicker of a smile. “And what of my gift…my sweetling?”

Anthea drew the hooded stranger forward. The visitor didn’t bow or kneel instead inclining a shrouded face towards Earless Nick and with a shielding hand began to whisper. The Lord of Misrule’s face remained blandly still though to those close enough to see, his eyes did appear to glitter from time to time with a malevolent spirit. Finally the hooded figure drew back and Earless Nick clapped his hands together like the snap of an harquebus and grinned with savage delight. “Oh Anthea you are my best lass, a true pearl beyond compare and this is a wonderful Yuletide gift payment and revenge all wrapped in one. Hah! No man cheats the Lord o’ the Liberties of his winnings and certainly not that lawyerly whelp!”

Earless Nick slammed his fist onto the table and grabbing his silver gilt cup thrust it in the air. “A toast! A toast! Raise high yer cups, cos a sennight hence Red Ned Bedwell will be swinging at Tyburn, or food for worms!”

The sack fuelled cheer echoed out the doorway into the winter snow and whispered in rumour through the Liberties. The Lord of Misrule was out for revenge.

A New Novel - The Fetter Lane Fleece

One Year Anniversary!

Greetings my well regarded readers, all several of you, I hope that this warmer weather (in the north) has you champing at the bit to race out and enjoy the Summer.  Although there was that recent snow fall this last week even as far south as the English Midlands to set one worrying about the summer frolics without a heavy insulated jacket, which kind of ruins the Maying idylls in the fields.  Anyway that, after a fashion leads me to the meat of this article.  It is now one year since I released the first novel in my first Red Ned Tudor Mysteries tad ah!  Yes twelve months ago last week The Liberties of London was unleashed upon an unsuspecting reading public via Amazon.  In that time it has done pretty spectacularly selling well over three thousand ebooks.  The next stage as my readers have repeatedly asked for, is to produce this in solid paper form, and today I wish to announce that (at least for the US) it is one step closer, the second of the Liberties novellas has just been released.  So to give value to a print edition this will be combined with The Liberties of London and another soon to be released short story involving the nefarious Earless Nick and Canting Michael -A Counsel of Rogues.

  In the meantime as part of this anniversary of publishing I have the humble pleasure to announce the release of my latest ebook The Fetter Lane Fleece.  A novella length story similar to The Liberties of London it will be a free download from Amazon for three days from 12 am PST (Pacific Standard Time) on the 17/05/12 to 12 pm on the 19/05/12.  So pass the word to your friends download and enjoy.

In the meantime I’d like to make a heartfelt plea to all my readers, if you liked a book in the Red Ned or Dark Devices series please on my bended knee I beg you leave a review on Amazon.  A recent article in The Guardian points out how individual readers tend to be much better at judging the quality of a story than ‘official’ critics.  As an indie I appreciate your comments and feedback and I wish to thank those of you who have taken the time to post me their commendations and concerns, they have made a difference to my writing efforts and the quality of the st.

The Fetter Lane Fleece.

As readers will discover this story is set but a few days after the events of The Liberties of London and involves Ned once more venturing into the debateable territory of the Liberties.  A jaunt, that as you will soon discover probably required somewhat more sober thought and reflection, rather than the generous quality of fine wine and Red Ned’s usual impulsiveness. 

Once more the cover art is by the promising graphic designer Alexander House who has this past week hit eighteen.  My how time flies, I remember the day of his birth so clearly Nelson Mandela had just become President of South Africa.  So congrats Alex!  For my readers here’s a link to his Deviant Art page where he displays a fair array of his burgeoning talent.  In what we believe is a positive step into branding and marketing the future covers of the Red Ned series will be laid out as if they were wood cuts, similar to The Liberties of London cover.  Giving a much more Tudor feel and identity to the stories when they come up in an Amazon search, this may involve reworking some of the previous covers for The Cardinal's Angels and The Queen's Oranges, so if you have an opinion please let me know. 

The other standard layout we will be continuing for both the Red Ned and Dark Devices series is the inside page of sketch art which will refer to a key factor of the story.  Even as storytellers’ writers still understands that a picture is worth a thousand words, so this will help set the scene and provide a little more eye candy for the Historical Fiction reader.

Now as a treat and a taster I give you the prologue of The Fetter Lane Fleece. 

Regards Greg

Prologue. Fleeing the Fleece

The snow covered mound on the rough cobbles crunched with the solid impact of his body and Ned whimpered as he rolled. Oh Christ that…that stung! The icy crystals set the skin of his bare back aflame, especially the long bloody scratches from that cursed sign. Well he hoped it was only the shock of the snow and ice that aggravated his current condition. It didn’t pay to investigate too closely what lay under the few inches of snow in a Liberties street. Dead dogs, piles of mouldering rushes and steaming kitchen waste where amongst the lesser ills. At least, remarked his daemon, it wasn’t the Fleete Ditch, a river of turds and tanner’s discharge. He’d dangled over that last week, seemingly for hours, on the brink of imminent death by drowning, as had Earless Nick’s luckless minion. No, no fear of that fate tonight. Instead he only had to worry about daggers, swords, cudgels, a butcher’s cleaver or two and the savage fury of an irate punk. See, said his daemon, nothing to worry about.

Rolling with the momentum of his sudden exit Ned staggered to his feet, and rendered slightly unsteady by his too solid landing, began to stagger off down Fetter Lane towards Fleete Street. A loud chorus of howls and curses from the Wool’s Fleece informed him that his solo sojourn was going to be of a very short duration. Damn. Ned hopped on one foot as he tried to continue his forward passage while at the same time attempting to pull on his left shoe. As for the rest of his clothes, his better angel may scold him for looking more naked than the wild Irish or bare breeched Scots, but unlike them he did have the ability to cloth his present nakedness. Just not now, thank the blessed saints for the shroud of night, even if the extra cold was shrinking his cods and setting his skin a prickle with goose bumps. If he continued much further in this ‘exposed condition’, his bollocks would be lumps either side of his neck and not even an hours delightful cajoling by Mistress Adeline could draw his pizzle out from its hiding spot.

Oh by the blessed saints why did the Twelve days of Christmas have to be so damnedly cold? Or Reedman’s brother, the stupid measle, so bereft of brains or commonsense?

Ned’s foot stamped down upon a thin layer of ice instantly breaking through the crust and he sank knee deep into the resulting pothole. Oh Christ! Oh Christ! Oh…Of a sudden his mind froze over in white pain as the water and muddy ice, chilled by weeks of Lord Frost’s breath, fountained up drenching his not so dangling nearest and dearest cods. The world around him blurred and he tried to draw breath to scream. Richard Reedman, you miserable bastard! If his cods were damaged or blighted the fool was going to suffer.

An angry cry from behind told Ned he didn’t have time to cater for clutching his frosty manhood. He needed to move, or else. The motivation of a prime kicking and thumping plus sundry assaults with cudgels and knives prompted his flagging efforts, and shivering as if he had the ague, Ned pushed on. The cries though increased in volume as the foisters of the Fleece rallied for a chase. Damn, damn, damn! This plan looked so good back at the Sign of the Spread Eagle. His angel remarked waspishly that it was warm in there by the blazing fire and he’d a full tankard of Rhenish in hand, so...

“Ere’s t’ stinking measle who ‘it me!” the fair Delphina screeched.

“A shillin’ ta the one what brings ‘im down!” The slightly muffled nasally voice of Flaunty Phil added. A hand over his broken nose may have hindered his speech, though an eager roar and cheer still answered the call.

Ned ignored his other shoe, gave up any further attempt at pulling on his shirt, doublet and hose and instead found a new burst of speed. Damn this! He just had to stop this dreadful habit of helping out friends with their Liberties follies. It was proving to be dangerous to his health, and by Satan’s great black hairy balls, so perishingly cold!

********

Download the ebook from Amazon to see how Ned fares in his latest Liberties adventure.

Regards Gregory House

Reality and Tudor Hollywood

Or Truth, TV and Tudors

Greetings my well regarded readers, all several of you, I hope that the approach of spring (in the north) fills you with the budding joys of renewed life after the crisp chill of winter.  At any time to restore the balance of the humours unsettled by the changing seasons I can recommend a good measure of brandywine infused with, ginger and pepper as a decent tonic.  I know it helped me regain a lost equilibrium.

I must I fear tender grovelling apologies to all my dear devoted readers it has been months, months, months!  Since my last posting, and I know your all missed me, please no more impassioned letters begging me to return.  For lo your dearest wish is granted!  I can but plead the pressures of the poverty stricken life of a writer with teenage children and several cats.  However all is not grim tidings and woe, not one but two new Red Ned novels are on the way (along with the drafts of four more other associated stories).  In fact the upcoming Fetter Lane Fleece should be freely available from Amazon within the week and for the first month it will be a free download.  The Smithfield Shambles though won’t be ready until late May due to editorial issues, ie my editor said it needed three more chapters and some more ‘word wroughting in the forge of inspiration to make it rock like The Liberties of London.  Be that as it may, the novel will be out soon enough.  In the meantime I’d like to make a heartfelt plea to all my readers, if you liked a book in the Red Ned or Dark Devices series please, on my bended knee I beg you leave a review on Amazon.  As an Indie writer and publisher I cannot (like the big six) pay for any advertising or endorsements, nor do I lean on dear old aunt Florence to leave a glowing review for her favourite nephew.  I need you the reader to leave real feedback, so vote with your keyboard even it is only to say ‘Jolly good work!’  There must be a few of you out there since I’ve sold over five thousand books in the past six months.  Thus hopefully there must be a few of satisfied readers out in the electronic aether.  Stand up for novels and stories you appreciate, rather than being bludgeoned by a slick PR campaign. 

Now on to the meat of today’s matter- Reality or Reality TV.

This subject could fill a hundred blogs nay even a thousand, so I will just stick to one small point in a recent discussion.  For those of you you’ve read my Red Ned novels you will have gained the impression that Sir Thomas More the Tudor politician and writer is not my hero, in truth the more I read of him, his career and his writing the less I like him (and yes I have actually read all his works and I do understand Utopia and its origins).  Now I know that there are whole websites and societies devoted to the hagiography of Saint Thomas More and they do a good job of singing his praises and smiting those who dare to point out a few unpleasant facts of his actual history as a servant of the Tudor crown and vitriolic man of letters.  Be that as it may they are entitled to their opinion, just as I am with mine, though even the most sycophantic More biographer (Ackroyd) has had to admit that Sir Thomas More was the creator of the first English secret police or Stasi whom he used to sniff any trace of heresy or heretical literature.  According to contemporaries his treatment of the arrested and accused was considered pretty grim even by Tudor standards.   This included imprisonment and questioning in the Tower and at his private estate at Chelsea, where it has been suggested More had several whipped and beaten.  Now this is just a very brief indication of some of the official acts of Sir Thomas More against those he disapproved of and doesn’t highlight his other controversial political actions during the first stage of the English Reformation. 

Recently I reviewed John Guy’s book on Margaret Roper A Daughter’s Love see the following:

This is for me a difficult book to talk about, firstly I have studied More for several years and unlike a number of contemporary authors and historians I am not impressed with the Tudor figure now viewed through rose tinted glasses. This is not to say that John Guy hasn’t done a splendid job in highlighting More’s career view the lens of his daughter. Guy is one of the most thorough Tudor period historians and his work on More’s public career is excellent. However I still find it annoying that those points of More’s professional life that deeply tarnish his reputation as a ‘humanist’ tended to be glossed over, such as the Richard Hunne case, his attacks on Luther, his creation of a secret police to hunt heretics and the very strange case of his imprisonment and trial.
So while Guy has done a splendid job I finished the book feeling very unsatisfied. Though if you like the period this is a must read or own for the wealth of background detail alone.

Okay fairly standard a good piece of work by John Guy but as I said I had reservations.  Then I began to receive a few disturbing comments criticising my position on More, once again fair enough except that one of them cited Bolt’s play A Man for All Seasons as a source for the amazing, steadfast and compassionate Sir Thomas More.  I must admit to being flabbergasted, its like viewing that abysmal film Pearl Harbour as an accurate account of the 7 Dec 1941 attack or MGM’s 1959 Ben Hur as true Roman and early Christian history.  Now in this media savy age of Youtube, Wiki and a host of quality historical source sites these kind of errors should be less prevalent.  However this appears not to be so, having studied Robert Bolt in High School it is quickly apparent that like Arthur Miller (The Crucible) he used recognisable characters and events from history to highlight the ills and prejudices of contemporary society of the 1950’s.  To claim it as an accurate portrayal for the historical More is rather sad and I fear linked to our growing and current failure to discriminate between fact and fiction in daily life and media.  I also suspect it may also have a lot to do with the cutting of hard core reality subjects like History and Humanities for soft fantasy units such as Business Studies, Economics and Marketing.

I’m also curious if the recent Tudors series has caused a similar array of problems and misconceptions, I must admit to only viewing a few and found them a tad trite and woefully simplistic, in plot, dialogue and melded characters.  With such a wonderful opportunity to build on the glorious Elizabeth R with Glenda Jackson I suspect they’ve opted for the more trashy Dynasty version.  But hey, I read Tudor histories for pleasure and try and write Tudor period novels for a living.  Its just that after Band of Brothers, The Pacific and Downton Abbey I felt historical accuracy for TV series may have been on the rise.

Now as I say in my novels they are a work of fiction, and characters in them may not be as strictly portrayed in historical records.  However my caveat is that I make a valid effort to craft a mostly accurate view of the Tudor Age one that I hope is interesting and accessible to the general reader.  I source as many period accounts, letters, maps, images, histories and physical pieces as possible to give my stories as real life as possible, a written form of reconstruction archaeology if you will.  So if any of my readers find problems or errors in my presentation of the tumultuous reign of Henry VIII, I encourage you to get stuck in and set me straight!  But please remember to quote a better source than a modern film.

Regards Gregory House

Waeshael! Happy Yuletide!

A Free Red Ned novel to all my friends today at Amazon!


Good day to my growing legion of devoted readers, I wish you all happiness good company and joy this Yuletide Season. Remember that is the time for friendship, family and compassion and I hope that none of you end up with the kind of Christmas gathering as portrayed in The Lion in Winter. A brilliant representation of the archetypal not so loving medieval family- the Plantagenets. Headed by Henry II and his formerly loving wife Eleanor of Aquitaine. And who can forget their devoted children Richard Coure d’lion the later crusading king, Geoffrey of Brittany an arch schemer and the future King John. If all that wasn’t enough as an interested visitor and guest they also have King Philip of France, a young lad keen to regain the kingdom Henry II stole off his father. So anyway this season I encourage you to relax like a monarch (a Tudor one could be safer) and bestow peace and generosity to those around you.
As my effort to help along the festivities I am currently offering my Red Ned novel set around Christmas The Liberties of London as a free download from Amazon Aust/US and the UK for one more day so I encourage you to take a Red Ned home take a seat, a glass of fine Rhenish and read about how Ned’s best laid plans for a Tudor Christmas Revel unravel.

A short clip from the Lion in Winter - Knives or Peace... Just remember who carves the goose! 

Please note this offer expires by the 23/12/2011 (11.59 pm Pacific Standard Time)


The Liberties of London UK




The Liberties of London US/Aust


Red Ned Tudor Mysteries, Apprentice Lawyer and Aspiring Rogue

This is the first of a series of stories following the life and mis adventures of Edward (Red Ned) Bedwell, a young apprentice lawyer at Gray’s Inn and reluctant investigator who experiences first hand the tumult and intrigue during the reigns of the Tudor monarchs from Henry VIII to Queen Elizabeth I. A foot slogger’s view of the dangerous and deadly rivalries, ambitions and human foibles of the Tudor Court. His Sovereign Majesty the King may command and Councillor Cromwell will instruct, but it is poor Ned that has to deal with the inevitable consequences that led to treachery and murder. In this Ned is mostly aided by the solid friendship of Rob Black, an artificer in iron and bronze. However it also includes the not necessarily appreciated but usually correct hectoring of his sister Mistress Meg Black, an apprentice Apothecary and suspected heretic. With this ill sorted team Ned has to balance solving his master’s instructions with retaining his honour, keeping secrets and somehow climb up the greasy pole of advancement in the Tudor Age.


Regards Gregory House

Sir Thomas More, an example for Indie Writers?

Greetings fellow Tudor aficionados and well regarded readers, please accept my apologies for the long absence, lots of writing and editing took up too large a proportion of my time.  I thought today I’d be terribly self indulgent and link my current plight with that of perhaps the most famous Tudor writer, Sir Thomas More.  This eminent scholar, politician and the author of Utopia and A Dialogue concerning Heresies to name but two of his works, was a witness and participant of the most dramatic years of the reign of Henry VIII.  His writings have helped form modern perceptions in such diverse areas as religious thought, political morality and even Shakespeare’s plays (particularly Richard III).  I have started to discuss my perceptions of Thomas More in an earlier blog article The Reality of the Written Word and Thomas More so I won’t go over that ground again.  

Instead I think we should discuss a few examples of Thomas More and his efforts to spread the word as it were for his writings.

Now for the few of you who may not know it, apart from talent, Thomas More the writer was gifted with advantages that the rest of us modern day scribblers really couldn’t imagine.   Except for that coterie of Romantic and Gothic era writers who tended to indulge in a touch too much laudanum…among other diverse pursuits.  More was an important figure at the Royal Court even before he became Lord Chancellor so a ‘suggestion’ to a prospective printer came with the sort of implied hints that only a fool or one keen on prison food would ignore.  Secondly his brother in law John Rastell was a printer at the ‘sygn of the mearemayd next to pollys gate’ so from around 1520- 1535 this provided More with a printer on tap.  Then there was a final advantage that any modern media baron would easily understand…money.  While Thomas More’s personal wealth couldn’t compete with that of his former lord Cardinal Wolsey, it was never the less pretty damned good for the Tudor period.  There was also a suggestion in some contemporary accounts that More had been the recipient of thousands of pounds from the English Church to act as a lobbyist and advisor.  Thus Thomas More had that most amazing of opportunities for any writer, he could easily fund the printing and distribution of as many of his books as he wanted.  He had the contacts, the influence, the network, the prestige and the envious ability even now to write at a prodigious speed. So with all these advantages I have to ask one question.

 

Why did Thomas More forge his own book reviews? 

The advent of movable type via Gutenberg had a dramatic impact, it was the Information Revolution of the Renaissance and very much like the Internet was for us, speeding up discussion on just about very aspect of society.  Especially religion, quite a few historians have put forward that Martin Luther’s assault upon the Catholic Church may not have had as much of an impact if his declaration hadn’t instantly been rushed into print.  It is these very heretical complaints of Luther’s that had More extremely steamed up.  In 1520-21 he’d recently finished helping his Sovereign  Henry VIII compose his Assertio or the Assertion of the Seven Sacraments for which the Pope granted him the title of Defender of the Faith.  Ironically a title still held by the British monarchs.  Well just like a modern chat room flame war this prompted responses backwards and forwards until 1522-23.   More then decided on a counter blast to knock the ‘shitty befouled heretic’ for a six by publishing his Responsio ad Lutherum or the Response against Luther.  It was indeed, ‘ahem’ an astounding piece of work.  At a time which held a certain minimal level of literary decorum this little tome hit new lows giving us some lovely phrases of abuse, invective and insult. 
 For instance a quoted extract in Marius’ biography on More.

“will we not have the posterior right to proclaim the beshitted tongue of this practitioner of posterioristics most fit to lick with his anterior the very posterior of a pissing she mule.”  And that’s the polite part, for the rest he pulls out all the usual Renaissance writing ploys like exaggeration, classical allusions, fantastic legends, outright lies and occasionally when nothing else can be found …the truth.

So after going on in this vain for thousands of words More apparently decided to publish this under the name William Rosse.  Okay that’s fair enough there are hundreds of instances of pen names through out history, however More appears to have been unsatisfied with this simple nom de plume.  He decided to take this a few steps further and also added a number of fictitious reviews from apparently eminent scholars such as Hermann of Prague, John Carcelius and Ferdinand Baravellus.  Now this does sound familiar a very contemporary practice inventing reviews to boosts sales.  More though didn’t stop there, each of his imaginary reviewers then egged each other on plus backing up William Rosse in his ‘need’ to defend his slandered monarch.  Apparently More himself urged his friends to defend the right worthy Master Rosse even asking Erasmus to lend his pen to the cause.  The humanist scholar sensibly sidestepped simply remarking that Luther could learn the use of invective from Master Rosse.

As for impact it certainly was a memorable work in the literary and religious circles of Europe, though it certainly didn’t have the effect More intended.  Those heretical mischief makers increased in number and popularity thus Sir Thomas was soon forced to resort to more physical methods of dissuasion like in imprisonment and torture.  But the question remains, why did the most respected and influential humanist writer in England ghost his book and go to such lengths to fake his reviews?  Was it political, perhaps a touch of shame or did he really believe any tactic was worth the result?  Since the Catholic Church has put its imprimatur on his writings and life as well as making him the patron saint of politicians, I have to ask is this really a worthy example for writers to follow?  Do we not see too much plagiarism and faked reviews?   Where should Indie writers who desperately need an edge in promotion look to for inspiration?

I would suggest others would be more worthy, especially our readers.

Now Indie writers have many advantages, such as enthusiasm, they are able to pursue their projects with passion and verve often devoting long hours to research and finely crafting their pieces.  They also thrive on the most minuscule rewards, compliments and praise.  Always striving to directly connect with their audience and give the reader the personal link that is so frequently impossible in the commercial world.

However all that being said, they/we/I also continually labour under a number of ominously heavy burdens.  Being an Indie means you lack fully developed commercial networks, influence and resources unlike Sir Thomas More.  Covers the eye candy and blazon of your work are essentially whatever you can afford, which in my very fortunate case is my talented son Alexander.  For editing the bane and bugbear of many I have my extremely experienced partner Jocelyn, who squeezes her reviewing in between all the other tasks expected of a parent.  As for publicity, well this is it, blogs, Face book, forums and mostly the kindness of strangers.  Thus it is too these kindly passers-by that I frame this request.  The vast majority of Indies are not Thomas Mores, we cannot plug in unbelievable sums into publicity nor do we fabricate wonderfully glowing reviews (though it may get tempting).  Instead we ask our readers to pause, even for a minute or two and let someone else know what interested you about this indie book, did it amuse, enthral, satisfy or make you curious.  If it did even in the slightest, how about leaving your thoughts as a review so some other passer by can experience the same pleasure of discovery.  Go on take a minute, you can spare it and you’ll feel so much better afterwards.
Coming soon to Amazon Kindle The Cardinals Angels

Regards Greg