was just reading the fabulous Jo Beverley’s blog on Word Wenches about does the
word ‘Historical’ put people off reading them? I found this article really
interesting... sad, but interesting. What do you think?
One of the comments suggested that this
could be partly due to how history has been taught in schools.
I can only comment on how I was taught
(and that was a million years ago). My head and chalkboard was filled with
boring dates and shadowy people. I wanted to say ‘I imagined them’ but I couldn’t
and that was the problem.
History was something that happened ‘back
then’... in a time when people weren’t so civilized (as if we are now) or
generally not so clever (an idea bandied about by 19th century
scholars. Oh, there were a few exceptions but really no one could ever be as
clever as them).
Now, I have always loved history,
especially the medieval kind but even my resolve was pushed. One teacher (who
was a lovely woman but...) would barely speak to us. She would divide the chalk
board in half and begin writing the entire lesson – 50 minutes of ceaseless
writing. Oh, and once she got to the end of the board, she would rub it off and
then keep writing.
Which meant you had to be really quick
to get all the information copied down.
Am I so old that there weren’t
photocopiers in my school, I hear you ask. No, there were photocopiers... she
just chose not to use them.
Go on... ask me how much I remember
about the Rum Rebellion.
I do however have sick skills when it
comes to taking notes.
So when I was taught History at high school,
I was given dates, names and events but told nothing of the human condition. And
that’s the secret to really ‘getting’ history. I found this out by myself with
no help from the history faculty.
History is about love, hate, greed, power, lust, vengeance,
blood, intelligence, despair, Inspiration and determination.
It’s all about why someone did
something not the actual date on which it was done.
That’s where the real story is.
as an author of historical romance, I hope that you will look past the words ‘Historical’
and give my medieval romances a go. J
Can the Reynard family betrothal ring really choose
his true bride? Lord Savaric Reynard is about to find out.
Lord Savaric Reynard is intent on marrying the widow of Blackstone
Manor, that is, until fate and the Reynard betrothal ring get in the way. On
his way to meet the widow, Savaric is waylaid by Rosamund, a travelling artist.
doesn’t believe in magic or the old family legend that the Reynard betrothal ring has the power to choose the right and true bride. Savaric soon discovers he
can try and run from Fate, but one way or another it just
might catch up with him.
girl straightened and her eyes narrowed when she addressed him. “Sir, I do not
want your coin.”
what do you want? Come, you came to Foxwoods with a purpose.”
want nothing from you, Lord Reynard. I was honour bound to return the ring and
I need no money for that.” Her voice was even but he saw a spark of indignation
spark in her eyes.
what do you know of honour?” The words slipped out of Savaric’s mouth before he
could stop them.
Aunt Amice gasped.
than you, I wager,” Rosamund said as her hands fisted by her sides. “I have
returned your possession and yet you choose to insult me. You may be a fine
lord, but I have found better manners and more kindness from the woodcutter I
passed on the road.”
stepped away from the hearth and dropped into curtsy before Amice. “May God
grant you blessings, Lady. I thank you for your sweet words but I should leave.
‘Tis better that way.”
I will not have it. I will not allow you to go back into the tempest. I insist
that you accept our hospitality. You will have dry clothes, a warm bed and
food. We are in your debt, child and once Savaric recovers his manners he will
be in agreement.” Aunt Amice stood up and took the girl’s hand. “Now, I shall
not hear another word about it.”
saw the hurt in Rosamund’s eyes and another wisp of guilt fanned over him. She
made him react and it confused him beyond reason.
“Forgive my words. My Aunt is correct,
Rosamund. You are welcome and safe a Foxwoods,” he said before he turned on his
heels and strode to the door. He would avoid the girl as best he could. In the
morning she would leave and everything would fall back into place.