Dog-like teeth

A little extract from my current WIP (Work in Progress, to use a not-at-all pompous writer's term). Here, my hero gets creeped out travelling through Cappadocia.

'I started to sweat. Perhaps they dwelled here still. Perhaps they were watching us, that very moment, from their nasty little holes. When the light faded, they would come creeping out, hungry for fresh meat, and fall upon us while we slept. More beasts than men, I could almost feel their sharp, dog-like teeth closing on my flesh, the clutching hands and long, monstrously powerful fingers with broken nails wrapped about my neck, squeezing the very life from me...'

What is he on about, exactly? Ah, you will have to wait to find out.

You can pre-order Axe Lord on Amazon US and Amazon UK

Discover a lost prince - get your free biography of Prince Dafydd!

Roll up! Roll up! Santa has come early this year - or late - and is offering freebies.

Specifically, I am offering a free download of my short biography of Prince Dafydd ap Gruffudd, published a couple of years ago. It is now available to subscribers on my Substack - free or paid, so I'm not trying to milk you - so just click the link and it will take you there. Choose a subscription and the download will be made available.

Dafydd is one of the most controversial figures in the history of medieval Wales. A prince of Gwynedd, he fought for and against Edward I, and finally met a hideous end on the scaffold at Shrewsbury. Perhaps surprisingly, for such a pivotal figure, he had no proper biography until I decided to I write one.

Was Dafydd a traitor to his country, a misunderstood patriot, or simply a medieval princeling who ran plumb out of luck? Or none of the above? Have a read, if you fancy, and decide for yourself! 😁

Prince Dafydd free download on Substack

Guest post by Cathie Dunn

Who was Poppa of Bayeux?

“Who was she?”

When you research history, you often ask yourself that question. History is, usually, about men – their wars, their politics, their influence.

Chroniclers used to share the achievements of male rulers, and their challenges, successes, and failures. We read about their marriages, their sons, and occasionally their daughters (where they made suitable marriages or founded religious houses, for example). But we rarely hear about their wives, especially earlier in the Middle Ages.

Where were the wives? Did they not contribute anything of note at all?

Historical accounts are sadly often filled with the dismissive attitudes of the chroniclers. Apparently, it must have been a rare feat that a woman achieved something great out of her own ability, and not due to the largesse, cunning, or support of her male relatives…

Yet more and more details slowly emerge of the power women yielded, and not only behind the scenes. I believe we’re only now starting to see a wider picture. One such lady is Poppa of Bayeux.

Very little is known about her. Sources aren’t even certain about her father’s origins, but it makes much sense, historically, that her father was a man of some influence in Neustria. Otherwise, an invader like Rollo (Hrólfr in my novel, Ascent) would not have considered marriage to her. He had lofty ambitions, and Poppa provided a certain legitimacy, as the daughter of a Frankish noble.

They were married ‘in more danico’ – in the Danish handfasting manner, so not in the eyes of the Church. Whether that fact mattered to her or not, is up to speculation. As a Frankish woman, she would have been a Catholic, whilst her husband was still Pagan.

We know she was around fourteen years old when they met around 886 / 889, possibly even younger, but her children were born later. Their birth dates are uncertain, though, so we won’t know how old she was when she had her first child.

At the end of the 890s, Poppa accompanied Rollo to East Anglia, as he’d fallen out with the then Frankish king. There, some sources claim, her son William was born, and possibly her daughter, Gerloc, too. 

In the early 900s, they were back in Neustria, and Rollo’s star was on the rise as he gathered control over large swathes of the region. He was always on the move, consolidating his growing power, so Poppa was left to coordinate their manor. She likely spent her time between Bayeux and of course, Rouen, the fast-growing town he chose as his seat, and where Rollo would have welcomed many Frankish nobles.

Whether he married Gisela, an apparently illegitimate daughter of King Charles of the West Franks in 911 as part of the Treaty of Saint-Clair-sur-Epte, is debatable, as no proof of her exist. If indeed they wed, with a Church blessing, they had no children, or those would have become his heirs. It was Poppa’s son, William, who inherited Rollo’s lands and title as ‘lord of the Normands’, originally granted by Frankish kings.

I loved plotting Poppa’s life in Ascent as I envisaged it: a lady of minor nobility, loyal, quietly powerful, who plays a vital role in the foundation of what was to become the powerful House of Normandy. Poppa is the ultimate matriarch – the ancestor of dukes of Normandy and Kings of England, and beyond. 

Surely, a remarkable woman who should not have been forgotten…

Links to Ascent by Cathie Dunn on Amazon US and Amazon UK

An invitation to dinner

The tomb of Richard 'Strongbow' de Clare

In 1282 Art and Murtaugh Mac Murrough, two Irish lords of Leinster, went back into revolt. This was despite the best efforts of their kinsman Roger Bigod, Earl of Norfolk, who had tried to negotiate with them on behalf of the king, Edward I.

The reasons for this latest revolt are unclear, but the response of the English government at Dublin was drastic. The justiciar hired a man named Henry Pencoyt, also called Henry FitzRhys, to assassinate the brothers.

Henry was lord of Killahurler, descended from one of the Welsh settler families that had come over to Ireland during Strongbow's invasion in 1171. He was paid £300 in English sterling to do the deed, a very handsome fee, and we also know how he did it.

Art and Murtaugh were invited to dinner at Henry's house in Arklow, a port town south of Dublin. During the night, while they were sleeping, they were killed in their beds. Then their heads were cut off and paraded about Leinster.

This provoked an unseemly squabble. Head-taking was a common practice in Ireland (and, to an extent, in Wales), and part of legal process. The justiciar, Stephen Fulbourne, got himself into trouble by levying a customary fine of 'head-money' on the men of Leinster: this was due for the heads of convicted felons, but Art and Murtaugh had been in the king's peace when they were killed.

Their kinsman, Norfolk – by now thoroughly embarrassed by the whole affair – refused to pay on the grounds that the heads had not been 'approved' by the lord and men of his liberty of Carlow. This meant they had not been viewed and identified by the community.

Attached is a pic of Strongbow's tomb.

Lightning as a hurricane

1137. After his conquest of Armenian Cilicia, John II marched on Antioch in northern Syria. First he sent his son, Alexios, to secure the gateway to Syria by capturing the fortress of Baghras, known as Gaston Castle during the Crusader era.

Baghras (Gaston) castle today

Alexios apparently succeeded, which was no mean feat. Probably built by the Romans in the tenth century, Gaston sits on a rocky peak with steep slopes in an isolated valley. It guards the main route to Antioch through the Belen Pass (also called the Syrian Gates) and the flat plains of Syria beyond the Nur Mountains. 

By the early 12th century the castle was in the hands of the Crusader principality of Antioch. Sometime before 1153 it was transferred to the Templars, who may well have been in possession when Alexis marched up with one part of his father's army. Not much is known of how the young co-emperor took the castle; the poet Italikos praises him for capturing it from the 'Kelts', by which he presumably meant Franks.

The capture of Gaston enabled the emperor to advance on Antioch, and by early summer his forces were blockading the city. Raymond of Poitiers, Prince of Antioch, was absent campaigning against Imad ad-Din Zengi, the Seljuk Turkish ruler or atabeg, who had besieged the King of Jerusalem and his followers at the castle of Montferrand. While Raymond hurried off with a relief army to rescue his king, the Roman emperor descended upon his city.

A ruler in Turkic military dress

As soon as Raymond heard of John's arrival, he turned about and dashed back to Antioch with all speed. Along the way he blundered into some Roman scouts, who almost captured or killed him. More bitter skirmishing followed between imperial troops and the Antiochenes, who barred their gates against the emperor. 

These fights provided some colourful anecdotes. On one occasion, John's men were picking from fruit in the orchards outside Antioch, when the defenders suddenly attacked them. When Roman reinforcements arrived, the Franks fled back inside the city, leaving the Romans to begin siege operations. John's war engines, which had battered down so many Armenian fortresses, hammered the walls with giant stones. At the same time his archers and slingers scoured the walls with missiles as they looked for places to undermine the walls.

John II besieging a city

This barrage was terrifying; Italikos said that John did 'throw lightning as a hurricane' against the Franks, causing them to run and hide. As the storm of missiles rained down, Raymond went to the emperor and begged for a compromise.