March Update…

The New Omnibus Edition – Draychester Chronicles 1-3 & the prequel all in one  place for the first time.

March, and spring time is not far away here in northern England. It’s been a long winter in many ways and like most of us I am looking forward to better days ahead. Still, there’s some time yet to sit by the fire and read about times past, or, in my case, write about them.

Over the last few weeks I have made great progress on the fourth book in my new Draychester Chronicles series. Will, Bernard and Osbert, in the “Death of the Wakeman”, are once again heading north from Draychester to investigate more medieval, murder, mystery and skulduggery in late 14th century England. I am looking at a release date probably towards the end of spring if things go to plan.

Although book four is a fair few weeks away I do have news of a new omnibus edition which contains not only books one through three but also the prequel book as well! So if you want to jump right in, all 800+ kindle pages of medieval murder are available right now…(it’s also available as a paperback… when you’ve read it you can reuse it as a door stop, it’s that thick…)

Touch wood or Knock on wood? God bless you?

The effigy of a crusader knight, carved in wood around 1280, can be found in Southwark Cathedral, London. He has a shiny nose for a reason…

Another hangover from our distant past, at least in Britain, “knocking on wood” or “touch wood” (the usual phrase and action for speakers of English) is the action of literally touching, tapping, or knocking on wood, or at least stating that you are doing or intending to do so.
It’s invoked in order to avoid “tempting fate” after making some favourable prediction or boast, or a declaration concerning your own death or another unfavourable situation.

So the story goes, medieval knights being sent into battle would visit the wooden effigy of a knight in Southwark Cathedral and touch its nose for luck. The Knight’s Tale in The Canterbury Tales begins in Southwark for this reason. The effigy can still be seen in the cathedral to this day.

The origins of the superstition is much older. It derives from the pagan belief that malevolent spirits inhabited wood, and that if you expressed a hope for the future you should touch, or knock on, wood to prevent the spirits from hearing and presumably preventing your hopes from coming true.

Somebody sneezes and you say “bless you”. A familiar event but the practice is believed to have originated in the middle ages. The thought was that the act of sneezing gave Satan the opportunity to enter the body. The person who sneezed needed God’s help to expel the devil, hence “God bless you”. There was also a belief that you could “sneeze out” your soul which was countered by the “God bless you” or covering the face to hold the soul in.

And Then There Were Three

Preparations for the release of the third book in my Draychester Chronicles series have taken longer than first planned even though we are still in strict lockdown here in England. I’m pleased to say Death of the Anchorite is now available. Will, Bernard and Osbert are once again on a mission to track down a killer in late 14th century England. As usual I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The Dilemma of Advanced Reader Copies (ARCs)

Just reading my reviews on the various Amazon country sites tonight. I always approach it with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. I do honesty read them all, good or bad. Getting someone to leave even a rating is hard, and most people don’t ever leave a review. I understand, I don’t often leave reviews on the books I read either. It takes effort, and once I finish a book, I am generally off to the next shiny thing on my reading list. If you do leave a rating or review, I applaud you for taking the time, I really do.

Before publication of a book, I sometimes ask for people to review an advanced reader copy (ARC). Now an ARC is sort of a “nearly finished version” of the book before the final edit. There might be spelling errors, a few passages that might not make the final cut and other things that will get tweaked. It’s not the finished product but it’s close. If you ever get an ARC for review that’s what you need to bear in mind.

You might not know this, but you can review a book on Amazon that you haven’t actually purchased through the site. Reviews obviously help readers to decide on whether a particular book is for them or not. So, as an author, if you can get a few reviews immediately the book is published it can help with kicking in the algorithms behind the mighty Amazon selling machine. The idea is that you send out a few ARCs, people get to read the book a few weeks before publication, and then as soon as its on sale they can post a review on Amazon if they like. They don’t need to buy the book on Amazon.

Anyway, I just read one review that I know was generated via an ARC. I thought, “yikes lady”, I appreciate you leaving a review, but I soon realised what the review was based on. Not my actual book but partly on the free prequel novel to the series and partly on the ARC. The reviewer pulled me up on spelling and grammar. I’m sure she did see some problems as she was reviewing the pre-publication copy before the final edit! That’s an ARC for you. Also, she quoted parts of the storyline that aren’t actually in the book she was reviewing at all. They were in the prequel book which I presume she read before the actual ARC of the novel. Now don’t get me wrong, the fact she took the time to leave a review was fantastic. However, the actual review makes me wonder if I should continue giving out ARCs or not. It’s the first time I have done so via the storyorigins site and it’s been very hit and miss. Anyway, you live and learn…

P.S Don’t get me started on the differing spelling of the same words in US and British English. I unashamedly write using British English spelling. Why wouldn’t I? I live in England, it doesn’t make the spelling wrong…😊

Losing A Joust (every day since 1390!)

The Jousting Knights, Wells Cathedral Clock

A very happy new year to you all. As I sit here typing away I can hear the steady tick of my clock counting off the hours and minutes of the new year.

My dad was a carpenter / joiner and when he retired in the late 1980s he decided to make the cases for a series of grandfather clocks. Over the next few years, he made several clocks for various members of the family, including me.

The oak Dad used for the cases had come from my grandmother’s wardrobe! She lived to be 96 and I am sure she had inherited it, perhaps from her own parents, so it was probably Victorian.

Anyway, my vague memories of the famous wardrobe are of a hideous thing the size of a small tank. (They had to literally remove the window of my Grandmother’s bedroom to get it out. How it had got in there in the first place was a mystery). Hideous though it undoubtedly was, it had been made with some fabulous pieces of oak.

All of which brings me, in a round about way, to medieval clocks… Time in the modern world is a very different concept than it was to our medieval ancestors. That’s not to say time wasn’t important to them, particularly in the medieval town and city, the day could be closely regulated. The canonical hours would be sounded out by the church bells and things like a curfew bell that signalled the end of the working day were common.

During the 14th century, when my books are set, things slowly started to change regarding telling the time. Before mechanical clocks, the hours of daylight could be divided up with some measure of accuracy but during the night-time, particularly during the winter it would be very difficult to estimate how long you had until dawn.

It’s generally accepted that the first mechanical clocks, powered by water, originated in China probably in the 11th century. Weight-driven clocks were beginning to be developed in the first half of the 14th century.

Early clocks were nothing like their later descendants. They did not have hands or a clock face. As many were installed in church buildings they perhaps gave an indication that a bell was to be rung or later actually rang the bell itself. The clock would often be housed in a tower and encased in a metal frame. In England, during the early 14th century, there is some evidence for primitive clocks existing at the cathedrals / abbey in Lincoln, Norwich and Saint Albans although they may have had more to do with astronomical prediction than telling the time. By the 1350s mechanical clocks had been installed in the palaces of Edward III. However actual accurate time keeping by these devices was not a priority, clocks could lose or gain many minutes over a single day.

At this period there was not even an agreement of what precise length an hour should be. Most people accepted that in the winter there would be twelve short hours of daylight, and in the summer twelve long hours of daylight. It was only gradually that the length of an hour came to be more or less agreed upon and regulated for the whole 24 hour period. As mechanical clocks became more widespread, they certainly helped to make this a more acceptable way of dividing up the day.

Wells is a cathedral city in the southwest of England. It’s a place full of history spanning hundreds of years. The magnificent cathedral has a clock dating from the 14th century. (It also happens to be one of my favourite cathedrals, my fictional city of Draychester bears an uncanny resemblance to Wells…)

The original clock mechanism at Wells is dated between 1386 and 1392 and may be based on a slightly earlier clock that still exists at Salisbury Cathedral. The Well’s clock is an astronomical clock, as well as showing the time on a 24-hour dial, it reflects the motion of the sun and the moon.

The original dial (the oldest surviving clock face in the world) is located inside the cathedral with a later dial driven from the same mechanism located on the outside of the building.

I’ve stood and looked up at these dials with wonder. It’s like looking into the face of history. It makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up just thinking about all the other people over the ages who have stood in this spot and done the same.

Inside the catherdral, driven by the mechanism of the clock, is a figure called Jack Blandifers. He sits up and above the clock face and to the right. Every quarter hour he hits a bell with a hammer held in his right hand and two bells hung beneath him with his heels.

Jack BlandifersAbove the clock itself two knights and two Saracens, go around in a circle in a jousting tournament. One poor Saracen is knocked down on every turn, something he has endured on a regular basis since 1390. It’s a fight he’s never going to win…

If you ever get the chance, go and visit Wells and its famous cathedral. It’s a beautiful place with a fabulous history.

For videos of the clock, Jack Blandifers and the Jousting Knights see the links below:-
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NjpuBiuMvFg

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xyKhYvBy-AA

A Medieval Christmas

The church, which dominated so many aspects of medieval life, ensured that Christmas was a true religious holiday and a highlight of the calendar. It was the longest holiday of the year, twelve days, lasting from the night of Christmas Eve, the 24th of December, to the Twelfth Day, Epiphany, on the 6th of January. Mid-winter saw a lull in agricultural tasks and meant that everyone got the chance to enjoy some of the merriment and festivities.

Then as now, it was a season that involved decorating the home with garlands and wreaths. William Fitzstephen (a cleric and administrator in the service of Thomas Becket) writing in the 12th century recorded,

“Every man’s house, as also their parish churches, was decked with holly, ivy, bay and whatsoever the season of the year afforded to be green.”

The local parish church would be the focal point of the celebrations with Nativity plays and other festive traditions observed.

Feasting was of course a major part of the celebration. The humbler members of the community might treat themselves to a rare delicacy of some meat, cheese and eggs. On the menu for the local clergy and lord of the manor might be such things as Larks, ducks, salmon, even wild boar. At the other end of the spectrum was the royal court…

On Christmas day 1213, King John, spending the festive period at Windsor Castle, held a feast. The sheer quantities and logistics concerning the organisation of the feast boggle the mind. In charge was Reginald de Cornhill, a long-time administrator under King John.

We can only imagine the stress poor Reginald must have been under. With only around a week’s grace, he suddenly found himself with the task of finding,

“20 tuns of good and new ordinary wine, both French and Gascon, and 4 tuns (2 of red, 2 of white) for the king’s table. 200 pigs’ heads with all the pickled pork, 1,000 hens, 50 pounds of pepper, 2 pounds of saffron, 100 pounds of good fresh almonds and 15,000 herrings, as well as spices for making sauces, two dozen towels and 1,000 ells of linen for making tablecloths”.

Other officials were tasked with finding even more provisions, including another 200 pigs’ heads, 15,000 hens and 10,000 salted eels. They also needed to lay their hands on all the pitchers, cups and dishes they could find.

You might have thought, given the severe financial pressures John found himself under during his rule, that this sort of extravagance might have attracted some criticism! However, from a medieval perspective, displays of royal generosity were expected, indeed they a were a key part of medieval politics and in fact the chroniclers of the time approved whole heartedly with his largess. He was only doing what was expected of a medieval king.

The Gongfermor – Dealing with Medieval Sh*t!

(Trying a medieval “garderobe” for size at Lamphey Bishop’s Palace, purely for purposes of research you understand!)

Towards the end of the 14th Century, London with a population of around 30,000 defecating souls, had only 16 public latrines, known as “houses of easement”. However, many private latrines (privies) existed, and the local authorities had even started to regulate their placement and construction. Cess pits started to be placed in the back yard of houses or even under their cellar floors. The more sophisticated arrangements carried excrement from upper floors by means of a wooden chute, sometimes flushed by rainwater.

Just as today, the space where you did the business was often given a “polite” name. Some common ones being the ‘privy chamber’, and the ‘garderobe’. The more imaginative ones include the ‘draught’, ‘gong’, ‘siege-house’, ‘neccessarium’, and the ‘Golden Tower’.

As most cesspits were not watertight, liquid waste would drain away leaving the solids behind. Every two years or so, this solid waste would have to be removed. As you can imagine, the smell and fumes could become a problem. It wasn’t unknown for clothes to be hung nearby as the acrid vapours would kill any mites in them!

King Henry III, (who was King of England between 1216 and 1272) in a letter to one of his castle constables complained about a privy at the tower of London that smelled so bad he wanted it rebuilt before his next visit,
“Since the privy chamber…in London is situated in an undue and improper place, wherefore it smells badly, we command you on the faith and love by which you are bounden to us that you in no wise omit to cause another privy chamber to be made…in such more fitting and proper place that you may select there, even though it should cost a hundred pounds, so that it may be made before the feast of the Translation of Saint Edward, before we come thither.”

A “gongfermor” or “gong farmer” was the term used at this period to describe someone who’s job was to dig out and remove the waste. (“Gong” is derived from the Old English gang, which means “to go”). The solid waste collected had to be taken outside the city walls or town boundary and was known as nightsoil. After being dug out, the nightsoil was removed in large barrels or pipes, which were loaded onto a horse-drawn cart. The job of the gongfermor was certainly unpleasant (day in, day out, up to the knees or waist in excrement) and could be dangerous but it was also well paid.

Pick up some free reads…

I often link up with other authors to cross promote our books to a wider list of readers. We currently have a promotion underway for the next month or so where you can pick up a ton of free reads from new and established authors. If you’d like to explore whats on offer click here.

Death Of The Official – The Paperback Cover…

The last couple of weeks I have been preparing the formatted files and graphics of the latest book release for upload to the Amazon kindle store.

This time I’ve decided to do a simultaneous paperback release as well. As an independent author I pretty much do everything from the writing through to preparing the artwork. I could outsource most of this (apart from the writing of course!) but I’m a bit of a control freak and I like learning new skills as well.

I’ve really struggled with the paperback cover. Amazon has exacting criteria in terms of positioning all the cover graphics (so when its printed it actually looks correct and the text doesn’t get chopped off in the printing process). Anyway, the job is finally done now and I think it looks ok (see image above)

As I type this, I’m waiting for the proof copies of the paperback to come back from Amazon KDP.

Now to be honest, paperback sales are a fraction of eBook sales on Amazon but I think it’s nice to actually have a physical product as well. Some people will always prefer a real book over an eBook so why not cater for everybody if I can.

A mortal blow to the back – a medieval skeleton

Watching TV the other day, I came across the “Bone Detectives”.  It’s a program on Channel 4 here in the UK. The premise is “a team of scientists piece together the lives behind unearthed bones to find out their stories. Once a skeleton has been recorded, the bones immediately begin to reveal their mysteries, opening up a secret history of Britain.”

The series so far has been interesting (it’s well worth a watch) but this episode even more so as they were examining some skeletons found during excavations at Norton Priory. This is the remains of an abbey complex dating from the 12th to 16th centuries, which is only some twenty-five miles from where I sit typing this in northwest England.  Now this part of the northwest is fairly industrial, where I live most of the towns really grew to prominence only in the Victorian period. The northwest went from being somewhat of a backwater in previous centuries to the heart of the industrial revolution. Heavy industry and medieval remains rarely go together, but Britain’s a place where you never have to travel far to find some hidden gem. My wife and I had a day trip out to Norton about six or seven years ago. The location of the ruins and museum is well hidden. The route takes you through a modern industrial estate and I was convinced we’d taken a wrong turn, even with the sat-nav guiding us.

The priory was an Augustinian foundation from the 12th century and was raised to the status of an abbey in 1391. As part of the dissolution of the monasteries, the abbey was closed in 1536. Excavation begin in 1971 and was to become the largest carried out on any monastic site in Europe during modern times. You can read more about Norton Priory here.

One skeleton discovered during the excavation shows signs of murder, with what appears to have been a sword blow to the back whilst the unfortunate victim was perhaps kneeling in prayer. It’s fairly likely the skeleton is that of Sir Geoffrey Dutton, a crusader knight. As you can image it was the ideal place to do some on-site research for story plots!

You will see Norton (or something based on it) in a future book in the Draychester Chronicles series, watch this space 🙂 The museum has been rebuilt and expanded since we were last there, and it’s high on our “to do again” list. If you get the chance, pay it a visit.

Medieval Alehouses, Taverns, and Inns

In the late 14th century, when my books are set, alehouses and taverns would provide food and drink and inns would also provide accommodation for travellers. They make an excellent setting for the plot of a medieval novel. These were places where people met to socialise and talk. Particularly in towns, this made them cultural and political hot beds. Uprisings and mobs often had their origins in such places.

In England, inns were found mainly in towns and cities. They quickly became prominent landmarks and were usually located in a central position such as the town square, or in places where roads met. Geoffrey Chaucer of course immortalised these Inns in the Canterbury Tales, his Tabard Inn being a real hostelry in Southwark (the Abbot of Hyde originally built it so he and his good brothers had a place to stay when on business in London). But it wasn’t just pilgrims travelling to and from religious shrines who might need accommodation, there were a wide range of other travellers on the move, including merchants and court officials and monks travelling between religious houses. Inns could also be used for other purposes. “Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem” in Nottingham, allegedly dating from 1189, was said to have acted as a recruitment centre for volunteers to accompany King Richard to the Holy Land on crusade. By the 1400s many larger inns would have private function rooms. These could be hired by the local town guilds or for private events. Many inns also provided locked rooms and strong boxes for storage of valuables.

Taverns and alehouses could be found in the biggest towns to the smallest villages. In places like London taverns were often owned by brewers and vintners as an outlet for their wares, in effect having a monopoly on what alcohol was served.

In the countryside the alehouse was one of the main places of recreation for the villager. An alehouse might not be in a permanent location, villagers would drink at the house of any neighbour who had recently brewed a batch of ale. Like their modern counterparts, villagers would pass the evening drinking. Inevitably this could lead to accidents, quarrels, and all too common acts of violence. The coroner’s records of the period are full of alcohol-related accidents, mishaps, injuries, and murders. Then as now, drinking to excess could lead to more than just a hangover… again all material for scenes in my novels.

Before Henry VIII split with the Catholic church, many taverns and inns had religious names. So we have, “The Anchor” (a reference to the Christian faith), “The Cross Keys” (the emblem of Saint Peter), “The Mitre” (a bishops headgear) and “The Ship” (the Noah’s Ark). Then we have names that have a connection with the crusades like “The Saracen’s Head” and “The Lamb and Flag” where the flag represented the crusaders and the lamb Jesus. Taverns names after saints, “The Christopher”, after the patron saint of travellers, and “The St. Julian”, who was the patron saint of hospitality.

There were more straightforward names, “The Ball”, “The Basket”, “The Bell”, “The Cross”, “The Cup”, “The Garland”, “The Green Gate”, “The Hammer”, “The Lattice”, “The Rose”. “The Swan” seems to have been very popular, there were six Swan’s in London alone in the 1420s. Other London taverns in the same period were named for birds as well, including “The Crane” and “The Cock”.

Bolton lies about six miles from where I type this. It’s a place I know well, I used to work in the centre of the town and occasionally went for a drink in what also claims to be one of Britain’s oldest pubs, “The Man and Scythe” or as its modern sign styles it, “Ye Olde Man and Scythe”. The earliest recorded mention of its name is in a medieval market charter of 1251. The present building dates from the 1630s and has been extensively rebuilt since then. The only part of the original medieval structure is probably the vaulted cellar. The pub is reputedly haunted, and the cellar appears to be one centre of the activity. (The few times I sat in the pub’s “front parlour” I can’t say I noticed any spirits except of the kind you can drink). The name of the pub derives from the crest of the Pilkingtons, who were a powerful family during the period with various branches scattered across the northwest of England.

My favourite writers of medieval fiction – No2 – Paul Doherty – the Hugh Corbett Series

I first came across Paul Doherty’s books via his Hugh Corbett series, set during the 13th-century reign of Edward I of England. There are now twenty-one books in the series as of 2020’s “Hymn to Murder”. I have loved this series since the first book was published back in the late 1980s. Doherty has written something like 100+ published works under a variety of pen names alongside his real name. The sheer volume and quality of his literary output is quite amazing. The other series of his I’m familiar with is the “Sorrowful Mysteries of Brother Athelstan”, set during the 14th-century reign of Richard II of England. Again a great read. The series will be on book twenty as of December 2020. I highly recommend both series, Doherty is an absolute master of the historical mystery genre.

Medieval Swearing, “God’s Bones!”

There are trends and fashions in swearing. Things that were outrageous and blasphemous in one age might raise nothing but a curious stare in the 21st century.

It’s difficult today to understand why swearing by parts of God’s body would be offensive, but it was a popular way of swearing up to the end of the 15th century. People would swear by “God’s Nails” or “God’s Bones”, “God’s Teeth”, even “God’s Balls!”

It a tough concept to get your head around, but I’ll try to explain it as best I understand it myself. So, to the medieval mind swearing an oath was a deadly serious affair. If you swore a sincere oath you were asking (even forcing) God in heaven to look down and guarantee what you said was in fact true. In an age where religion was an integral part of daily life, if you swore a false oath you were in effect making God out to be a liar!  In addition, to swear by parts of God’s body you were literally thought to be affecting those parts of his body up in heaven. These words and phrases have a power that is mostly lost on us today, but you would use them when you trapped your finger in a door, insulted someone, even expressed joy and amazement.

On the other hand, some words and phrases which were part of everyday speech in the medieval ages would today, in polite company at least, raise eyebrows. Describing bodily functions wasn’t a big deal, and it was normal practice for something like a street name to reflect the street’s function or the economic activity taking place within it. Which explains streets in many medieval towns called Gropecuntlane, Oxford and London to name just two. You can image what went on there. The local stream might well be called the Shitebrook for similar reasons….

I confess I find this sort of stuff fascinating. It might not be your cup of tea, but if you are interested, there’s a brilliant book about the history of swearing, “Holy Sh*t” by Melissa Mohr. It’s available on amazon.

My favourite writers of medieval fiction – No1 – Ellis Peters – The Cadfael Chronicles

I’ve always been a fan of historical fiction, although over the years I’ve also read a lot of science fiction. Still, I always seem to return to books set in the past, particularly the medieval period. It seems a lifetime ago (and I suppose it really is now) when I first came across The Cadfael Chronicles (a series of historical murder mysteries written by Edith Pargeter under the pen name “Ellis Peters”). The first book, A Morbid Taste for Bones,  was published in the late 70s and I would guess I began reading the series in my early teens (I was a strange kid!). They feature the Benedictine monk Cadfael (of Shrewsbury Abbey) who aids the local forces of law and order in solving murders. The books were made into a very popular TV series here in the UK shown during the mid-90’s, it was also shown in the US.

Partgeter died in 1995, but I think we can credit her with being one of the authors who first really popularised what became the historical mystery genre. The books are beautifully written and might be a bit tame for some readers (I’ve seen them recently tucked under the Cosy Mystery sub-genre) but I for one always enjoyed the gentle unfolding of each story. There are twenty-one books in the series, so something to get your teeth into and highly recommended.

The English Medieval Penny

The most widespread coin in use in medieval England was the penny. Twelve silver pennies made a shilling and there were twenty shillings to the pound. For transactions worth less than a penny it could be divided by physically clipping the coin into halves and quarters. Hence, half pennies and quarter pennies (known as farthings). Although official half pennies and farthings existed, they don’t ever seem to have been issued in the quantities needed to stop them being anything but rarities. The clipped coins therefore being the norm for anything less than a whole penny.

In accounting the Silver mark was used, although no actual mark coins existed. One mark was equal to 13 shillings and 4 pennies, which was two-thirds of one pound.

Wages and buying power in medieval England are notoriously difficult to estimate from a modern vantage point. There are so many unknowable factors at play that everything you can find on the subject can only ever be an estimate of what things cost on a daily basis.

I’ve assumed some typical daily earnings for the lower ranks of society for the time period my books are set in (1390’s – 1420’s) which I think are fairly accurate. A labourer, manservant, maidservant or swineherd might earn between one and three pennies a day. More skilled craftsmen like masons, carpenters, thatchers and weavers might earn between three and six pennies a day. A chantry priests might earn four pennies a day and an esquire or constable in the army perhaps thirteen pennies a day.

Cheap wine was about three pennies a gallon, the good stuff perhaps eight pennies a gallon. Ale, the staple drink of everyone, was three quarters of a penny for a weak gallon of ale and one and half pennies for a gallon of a better brew. Two dozen eggs could be had for a penny and you could buy two chickens for three pennies.

Medieval English Ale

In medieval England virtually everyone would have drunk ale on a daily basis. That’s not to imply that the whole population was constantly inebriated. The fact is medieval ale was a very different drink to any modern-day beer or ale. The basic ingredients were water and malted grain fermented with yeast (beer as oppose to ale also included hops as an ingredient). Ale was both used for hydration and nutrition and was very much an essential part of the English diet. This was a time when most people rarely drank water or milk. Although the wealthier could also afford to drink wine, ale was the overwhelming liquid refreshment of choice for much of the population. Then as now people could drink to get merry, to get drunk even, but it was also a much more mundane, day to day experience. Both children and adults drank ale, it was consumed throughout the day.

The basic ale making process consisted of the malted grain being crushed, boiling or very hot water would be added, and the mixture allowed to work. The liquid would then be drained off, cooled and fermented.

Although a relatively simple process it was also time consuming. In medieval England this type of ale would be served fresh which means it had very recently stopped fermenting or it was still in the process of fermenting. Ale did not keep well, being fast to sour and lasting at most only a few days.

The amount of ale that was brewed and consumed appears enormous to modern day eyes. For a household of five perhaps up to one and quarter gallons would be required per day.

During the fourteenth century most of the ale brewing in England was carried out by women in a domestic setting. Most households had the capability to brew ale for their own use and sometimes to sell to others. For many households it could be a valuable source of extra income even if they only sold to others a few times a year. When a fresh brew was available for others to buy a sign would be hung outside, often a broom.

The Medieval Revenant

During the middle ages a belief in souls returning from the dead was very common. A revenant was an animated corpse believed to have been revived from the dead to haunt the living. At various times the term revenant has often been used interchangeably with vampire. Numerous contemporary writers of the period recount stories relating to these undead souls.

Perhaps the most well know is William of Newburgh (or Newbury) (lived 1136 – 1198 in England). He recorded that such stories were common “were I to write down all the instances of this kind which I have ascertained to have befallen in our times, the undertaking would be beyond measure laborious and troublesome!” This didn’t however stop him later recounting such stories with some ghoulish satisfaction.

He continues, “It would not be easy to believe that the corpses of the dead should sally (I know not by what agency) from their graves, and should wander about to the terror or destruction of the living, and again return to the tomb, which of its own accord spontaneously opened to receive them, did not frequent examples, occurring in our own times, suffice to establish this fact, to the truth of which there is abundant testimony.”

It seems William was a believer at least as far as he didn’t discount out of hand the stories he came across. To the medieval mind it seems it was a perfectly possible scenario to have the recently departed wandering around the countryside terrifying the living.

One story involves a man who becomes jealous of his wife. Trying to catch her up to no good he hides in the bedroom rafters. Unfortunately, he manages to fall from his hiding place, seriously injuring himself in the process and dies a few days later. This is where things take a sinister turn.

“By the handiwork of Satan, from his grave at night-time, and pursued by a pack of dogs with horrible barkings, he wandered through the courts and around the houses while all men made fast their doors, and did not dare to go abroad on any errand whatever from the beginning of the night until the sunrise, for fear of meeting and being beaten black and blue by this vagrant monster.”

The monster then goes on a rampage and kills several of the townsfolk before they take action to counter the horror.

“Thereupon snatching up a spade of but indifferent sharpness of edge, and hastening to the cemetery, they began to dig; and whilst they were thinking that they would have to dig to a greater depth, they suddenly, before much of the earth had been removed, laid bare the corpse, swollen to an enormous corpulence, with its countenance beyond measure turgid and suffused with blood; while the napkin in which it had been wrapped appeared nearly torn to pieces. The young men, however, spurred on by wrath, feared not, and inflicted a wound upon the senseless carcass, out of which incontinently flowed such a stream of blood, that it might have been taken for a leech filled with the blood of many persons. Then, dragging it beyond the village, they speedily constructed a funeral pile; and upon one of them saying that the pestilential body would not burn unless its heart were torn out, the other laid open its side by repeated blows of the blunted spade, and, thrusting in his hand, dragged out the accursed heart. This being torn piecemeal, and the body now consigned to the flames.”

A tale which surely wouldn’t disgrace a modern horror film.

In the 12th Century the chronicler Walter Map records a similar tale of a “wicked man” of Herefordshire who comes back from the dead. He takes great pleasure in wondering the streets of his village during the night-time calling out the names of those who will die of a sickness. Naturally his fellow villagers are less than impressed. They enlist the help of the bishop of Hereford who authorises them to dig up the body and cut of its head with a spade. He sprinkles it with holy water and re-inters it in the hopes it will desist its nightly rambles.

 

Medieval Anchorites

In the third of the William Blackburne series of medieval adventures a spate of killings involving anchorites takes place. Many people confuse the terms anchorite and hermit. Although anchorites can be thought of as religious hermits there were some subtle differences. Most were required to take vows that tied them to one place. Many opted for permanent enclosure in cells attached to churches. Looking from a modern perspective it’s difficult to comprehend the attractions of being walled up for life in a small cell! Anchorites became widespread during the 13th and 14th centuries and in England it was not at all unusual for the local village church to have an anchorite cell built against one wall. The majority of anchorites, at least during the later middle ages, appear to have been female.

On becoming an anchorite, they were subject to a religious rite similar to that of a funeral. They became in effect dead to the world and often considered living saints. The typical size of the enclosure (cell) was 3.7 to 4.6 m (12 to 15 ft) square. Usually there were some small windows, one facing the outside for light, the others opening to the interior of the church. The anchorite could hear mass and receive communion via a shuttered window know as a squint. They could also provide counsel and spiritual advice through this window to visitors. Many anchorites gained a great reputation for wisdom over the years of their enclosure. One of the other interior openings would allow food and other items to be passed in and waste removed (A chamber pot being provided for bodily waste!)

Not every anchorite was confined to a cell. Some did have access to the church itself although their vows would probably exclude them from leaving the main building. The vows were for life and those who broke them and escaped or attempted to escape would be returned by force.To break their vows would also be to damn their soul to hell.

Perhaps the most famous English anchorite of the middle ages was Julian (or Juliana) of Norwich, also known as Dame Julian or Mother Julian. She wrote the earliest surviving book in the English language to be written by a woman, Revelations of Divine Love

Medieval Shipping – The Cog

In my book “Death of the Vintner” the three bishop’s officials of the story arrive at the small harbour town of Tenby in the west of Wales by sea. The ship they travel in was known as a Cog. This type of ship first appeared in the 10^th century and was in use across Northern Europe from the 12^th century onward. The vessels had a single mast with a square-rigged sail. They were clinker built, usually of oak and ranged in size roughly from fifteen to twenty-five meters in length with a beam between five and eight meters. Some of the largest cogs could easily carry 200 tons.

The cog developed into a sturdy seagoing trader, that was capable of crossing even the most dangerous passages. For defence against Pirates fore and stern castles would be added. The stern castle allowed more cargo space below by keeping the crew and the tiller up out of the way. The cog had reached its full potential by the 14^th century and other forms of ship design started to be explored but the cog continued in widespread use for several centuries in one form or another.

The Population of the English Medieval City

In 1377 of the thirty most populous cities and towns in England only three had a population of more than ten thousand people. These were London with forty thousand, York (see picture above) with twelve thousand and Bristol with ten and a half thousand. The others ranged in size from Coventry at eight thousand down to Nottingham and Winchester with two thousand four hundred each.

The whole of the county totalled around two and a half million people. Only a hundred or so years before the population had been almost double this but the Black Death had decimated numbers. Compared to the great cities of continental Europe only London was of similar size. Only twelve percent of the population lived in a town of some kind. This is profoundly different than modern England where some eighty percent live in a town or city.

This isn’t to say that England’s medieval towns and cities were quiet places, far from it.
During the daytime the population of these places could almost double with people from the surrounding rural areas coming to sell their wares and others coming to buy. The inns added to the shifting population, there were travellers of all sorts making use of the accommodation they offered. The towns were vibrant and noisy places.

Medieval Violence

The middle ages in England were a pretty violent place viewed from a modern perspective. Even today statistically most crime is carried out by males on males under the age of 25.  A study of coroners rolls from the 1340’s suggests a homicide rate of 120 per 100,000 of the population in Oxford. That’s incredibly high when compared to around 1 in 100,000 today. Some of the worst cities for crime in the modern world only score around 111 per 100,000.

Medieval England was predominately a young society. The average age of death was around 35, that’s skewed of course by the childhood mortality rate which was most probably as high as 25% for those under 5 years. However, the young could and did hold significant roles in authority at ages that would raise modern eyebrows.

Access to the law particularly for those in the lower levels of society could be limited. Seeking revenge because the courts were non-existent, weak of simply untrustworthy was common. It seems some disputes could be more readily settled by doing violence to each other. And willingness to fight was often deemed an appropriate way of dealing with any sort of slight. Alcohol fuelled fights as today were very common. It must be remembered that people daily drank what would be considered today excessive quantities of ale. Even though rather weak by modern standards ale was preferred over the polluted water supplies of the medieval town.

As perpetrators, victims or simply witnesses, people from the lowest to the highest ranks of medieval society experienced violence as an ever-present part of daily life.

Medieval Seals

I’ve had a few questions about the medieval seal depicted on my upcoming book, “Death of The Official”. The image on the left depicts the impression made by William Blackburne’s seal matrix. William is an official of the bishop of Draychester and the Latin inscription reflects this.

The status of the seals owner was often reflected in the actual size of the seal. In medieval religious hierarchy no one would be allowed to own a seal as grand as one issued by their own superiors! The cheaper seal matrices would be made of lead whilst wealthier owners would own a seal matrix made from bronze. The bronze seal matrices were harder wearing and therefore lasted longer. Lead is a fairly soft metal and seal matrices made of this material often broke.

In the middle ages the majority of seals were circular in design but ovals, triangles, shield-shapes and other patterns are not unknown. Generally, the design would comprise some sort of graphic emblem often incorporating a heraldic device. Surrounding this would be a text (known as the legend). Often this would just consist of something like “The seal of the [Name of Owner]”. At this time the seals of women and priests and other members of the clergy would be given a pointed oval shape (a vesical). The emblem would be a standing figure of the owner or in the case of clerical seals that of a saint. The medieval towns-person would sometimes use a seal with images relating to their trade but a variety of different emblems could be used.

Medieval Bridge Chapels and Bridge Hermits

In one of my upcoming books “The Death of the Official” Sir Roger Mudstone has an unfortunate encounter with a hermit collecting a toll on a bridge crossing a river. In the late medieval period it was fairly common for bridges to have all manor of buildings built on them. Perhaps one of the most common were chantry chapels. These were where prayers could be said for the souls of the founders and benefactors of the bridge. Donations were often collected for the upkeep of the structure. Bridge maintenance could be an expensive and ongoing task. However, to the medieval mind bridges with chapels could be thought of as less likely to collapse as the dedication of the chapel, often to a local saint or perhaps Saint Mary herself would offer some protection to the rest of the structure.

They were also a place for travellers and pilgrims to pray for a safe journey and attend mass. To the medieval pilgrim the bridge played a key role in a journey where the alternatives were dangerous ford and ferry crossings.

There are few medieval chapels associated with bridges that survive in England. Two important examples can be found in the West Riding of Yorkshire at Wakefield (see picture above) and at Rotherham. There are other significant chapels at Rochester and at Bradford Upon Avon.  In the aftermath of the Protestant Reformation many chapels were destroyed or fell into disuse and were eventually demolished. Some that did survive found new purpose as storage, offices and even gaols or shelters for livestock.

Most chapels would have a resident priest who said Mass for the travellers and pilgrims. He would often also live in the chapel. As travel could be dangerous in the medieval period the priest would often also be expected to say prayers for those injured, robbed or killed on the roads.
Another common presence at medieval bridges would be a hermit who would assist in the maintenance of the bridge and sometimes collect tolls. Occasionally hermits would be specifically granted alms for use in building small bridges.

Medieval Sanctuary

In my upcoming book, “The Death of the Vintner”, two brothers sought for the murder of their father seek sanctuary in the cathedral at Saint Davids in West Wales. This was a crime that would likely result in execution. The alternative sought by many who committed capital crimes was to seek the protection of sanctuary in a Christian Church.

The right to sanctuary has its origins in ancient Greek and Roman times and survived in at least some form into the 17^th Century. The belief system that gods were inviolable led to a tradition that their holy places were untouchable and thus a place where fugitives could escape the authorities. There was a price to pay for this shelter in terms of atonement and penance for the crimes committed. Medieval sanctuary had its foundations in these ancient beliefs.

By the late medieval period an almost standardised sanctuary process had emerged in England. On committing a crime, the sanctuary seeker would often flee to a nearby church. Church sanctuaries were regulated by common law. On entering the church he’d inform whoever was responsible that he intended to claim sanctuary. The fugitive then needed to confess their sins, surrender any weapons, and permit supervision by the church or abbey organization which had jurisdiction. A period of forty days sanctuary would then be granted. As long as they stayed within defined boundaries usually within the church building itself but sometimes over a wider area they could not be removed. It was illegal for the victim’s friends or relatives or the secular authorities to remove them and there were heavy penalties for those that tied.

The forty days was to allow the suspect to make a choice. Either stand trial according to law or confess their guilt and agree to abjure the realm. Which meant swearing an oath to effectively go into exile. The person taking the oath swore to leave the country directly and promptly, never to return to the kingdom unless by permission of the sovereign.

If the suspect decided to abjure the realm the coroner for that area, an official of the crown, would eventually be called. The suspect would confess their guilt to the crime usually in some form of public ceremony and the corner would then choose a port from where the fugitive would have to leave the kingdom from. Any possessions would be forfeit to the church and any land they owned to the crown. At least they would avoid execution but this was no soft option. They had to set out barefooted and bareheaded carrying a wooden cross-staff to indicate they were under the protection of the church.

At this point in theory they would take the main highway to the nearest port and leave safely. For any fugitive there were some unpalatable truths around what usually happened in practice. They could start out on their trek and once away from sight, jettison the cross and simply try and disappear and start a new life. The victim’s friends and relatives would have no illusions about the process and could simply follow them and administer vigilante justice at some point along the way. In theory the fugitive had only to leave the main highway and it would be perfectly legal for them to do this. It also seems that in some cases coroners would deliberately pick a port at the other end of the country. This would make it extremely difficult to fulfil the terms of the fugitive’s oath to adjure the realm.

There was always the chance of escape from sanctuary before the forty days were up, or simply the choice of sitting in the church past the time limit. However, many fugitives would be starved of food and water by the church authorities if they decided to simply sit and wait.

All churches had the power to grant sanctuary within the building, however there were some places where the bounds of the sanctuary area were much wider. These places had a specific royal charter to extend sanctuary to a wide zone around the church. Some of these areas extended to nearly a mile and a half from the church or abbey and the boundaries were marked by sanctuary crosses of stone. In England the churches with these areas included, York Minster and Westminster Abbey, the cathedrals at Wells and Winchester, Ripon, Norwich and Durham, Hexham Abbey, Battle Abbey and Beverley Minster (pictured above).