Category Archives: Guest Post Monday

Guest Post Monday – Leading recusant historian’s re-printed book about priest holes

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Today I’m offering a warm welcome to Paul, the son of Michael Hodgetts who wrote Secret Hiding Places first published in 1989. Given my views about the religious beliefs of the original designer of the Unstitched Coif project from 2023, this re-publication seems serendipitous as does the idea of hiding in plain sight.

The English Reformation was given official approval because King Henry VIII wished to divorce his first wife, Katherine of Aragon, in order to marry Anne Boleyn. Inevitably, Henry’s marital disharmony led to the mid Tudor crisis of which religion was a part and to difficulties for those of his daughter, Elizabeth I’s, subjects who chose to remain Catholic. So, over to Paul for a fascinating guest post.

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Priest-holes are a familiar feature of the English country house. Some are on show to the public – King Charles II’s hide at Boscobel has been a tourist attraction for nearly 300 years – and at Harvington Hall in Worcestershire children and small adults can squeeze into one of the hides. But while most people are aware that they were built to shelter Catholic priests at the end of the sixteenth century, and the name of Nicholas Owen has become well known, very few realise quite how many of these strange spaces there originally were or know of the carefully planned strategy behind them. 

From almost the start of the reign of Elizabeth I, Catholic services were supressed and fines could be imposed for non-attendance at the Parish Church, but for the first fifteen years or so the laws were not enforced very strictly. The early 1570s saw a tightening, with searches and arrests becoming more frequent: the first record of a purpose-built hide is in 1574 and in 1577 the first execution took place of an overseas-trained priest. The Jesuits arrived in 1580 but the real turning point was after 1585, when a new law made, not only the priests, but also their hosts, liable to execution. A year later, the government was winning the war: fewer than one-third of the 300 priests who had returned from abroad over the previous twelve years were still at work and the tempo of arrests and executions was increasing.

But in July 1586 at a week-long conference organised by the only three Jesuits then at liberty (William Weston, Henry Garnet and Robert Southwell) and attended by other non-Jesuit priests and some young noblemen, a new strategy was born. Instead of priests moving around constantly as they had previously been doing, each would now have a base of operations in a country house and a network of sympathisers would be set up to smuggle incoming priests to holding points until a suitable base could be found for them. Because the priests would be henceforth static, these houses also had to be equipped with hides. Most such houses would only need a single hide, but the holding points would need more, to be able to conceal larger numbers of priests. Weston was arrested two weeks later and spent the next seventeen years in prison, but Garnet and Southwell put the scheme into effect and it is not an exaggeration to say that Catholicism in England and Wales would not otherwise have survived. Southwell, who had relatives all over the Sussex and Hampshire aristocracy, created the ‘underground railroad’ whilst Garnet took into his service a carpenter from Oxford called Nicholas Owen with a very particular set of skills – the ability to create hidden spaces within the fabric of buildings. 

In this private house, the two plaster panels and the sturdy upright beam are a secret door into a large hide. The house was owned by two of the Gunpowder Plotters and the hide may
have been built by Nicholas Owen.

All three eventually met grisly deaths: Southwell was arrested in 1591 and executed four years later and Owen and Garnet were arrested in the crackdown that followed Gunpowder Plot. Owen was tortured to death in the Tower of London without revealing any of his hides and Garnet was hanged, drawn and quartered. But the network they had set up survived and grew. By 1610 there were 400 priests at work in England and Wales and the danger of extinction had passed. Eventually, this network sustained Charles II after the Battle of Worcester and took him safely to exile in France. 

Secret Hiding Places, first published in 1989, uses eyewitness documents and the physical evidence of the buildings themselves to tell the story of how Owen and others created enough safe hides to enable the Catholic mission to grow to by 1610 and details many searches, narrow escapes, arrests and executions. The book was originally written by Michael Hodgetts, leading Catholic historian and undisputed authority on priest holes. Following his death in 2022, his family have reissued the book and advances in printing technology have enabled, for the first time, full colour illustrations to show these fascinating spaces in unprecedented detail and the new edition has 250 photographs of the hides and their houses. 

One of the first priests to be arrested and executed, Edmund Campion, was captured because the searchers saw light shining out of his hide through cracks in the panelling. 
The door to this hide, at Ripley Castle in Yorkshire, has the remains of cloth that was glued along the inside of the hinge line to prevent that problem. 
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This hide, at Towneley Hall in Burnley is enormous – big enough to stand up and walk around in, as shown by the two members of Hall staff. The floor is of sound-deadening clay. This house has a list dating from around 1710 listing no fewer than eleven hides that then existed.

The book covers all the famous houses and hides but here are some pictures of places that are less well known and that the public cannot see.  The book is available on Amazon at

https://amzn.eu/d/9lsJQHI  and there is also a website in preparation: www.priestholes.net and a clickable google map https://tinyurl.com/priestholesmap showing the locations of all the hides that are known about today. 

To find out more about Michael Hodgetts: https://catholicherald.co.uk/michael-hodgetts-1936-2022/

Guest Post Monday Jo Romero Forgotten Women of the Wars of the Roses and Their Portraits.

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I hope that followers of the History Jar are enjoying ‘guest post Mondays’ as much as I am. It’s wonderful to meet fellow writers over the Internet, if not in person. Today’s guest post is by Jo Romero, a talented writer and artist. Like me, Jo is fascinated by the women who end up as footnotes in history and like me she has written about Anne Neville (Hickey, Julia A., The Kingmaker’s Women, Pen and Sword). I love the vibrancy of her portraits and the cross section of society that she has drawn upon.

Forgotten Women of the Wars of the Roses and Their Portraits        

I have always been fascinated by ‘forgotten’ stories, the ones history books tend to skip over. Over the years I’ve uncovered tales of Elizabethan pirates, a sword fight in seventeenth century Reading and some local allegations of witchcraft. But one area of history I’ve always been drawn to are stories of forgotten women. My book, Forgotten Women of the Wars of the Roses has recently been published by Pen and Sword Books, and was the result of two years’ research into letters, family documents, public records and chronicles. It was fascinating to uncover the many ways women from all sections of society shaped and were influenced by the fifteenth-century fight for the crown between the Houses of York and Lancaster. 

Among them were women of power who needed a new, modern assessment. Alice Chaucer Duchess of Suffolk was initially a loyal supporter of Henry VI and Margaret of Anjou, but historians later dismissed her as selfish and power hungry after her switch from Lancaster to York. A fresh look at the evidence simply demonstrates that she was an adept politician who made intelligent and informed decisions for the benefit of her son and his future. Anne Neville, Richard’s III’s queen, is also often ignored in history books dealing with the period, but was one of the wars’ central characters.

There were others, too: Joan Conys, an innkeeper who ran The Swan Inn during the Second Battle of St Albans in 1461, when archers and foot soldiers fought in the streets. Gonnora Dowtton, the abbess of Delapré, assisted, according to one source, in the burial of the dead after the Battle of Northampton in 1460. And in 1450, one innkeeper would have mopped dried blood from her courtyard after the murders of local officials on her premises. 

While writing the book, it was important for me to present these woman as three-dimensional characters to try and help readers ‘get to know’ them. I researched items in their wills and inventories and visited places they worked, lived and worshipped. In many cases I was able to see brasses and effigies that commemorate their lives. This formed the basis for a number of portraits that I also completed to help us see beyond the stylised depictions of them in brass or stone. 

Elizabeth Fitzherbert was the wife of a Derbyshire Sheriff, Ralph Fitzherbert. Ralph was a supporter of Richard III, and the king’s boar badge – a sign of allegiance – can be seen carefully carved onto his effigy. I created Elizabeth’s portrait based on her effigy at Norbury, although there is also a cast of the monument at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. Elizabeth wears a butterfly headdress with an elaborate cap, along with a stunning necklace depicting the Virgin and Child on a pendant. A visitor to Norbury in the nineteenth century noted that traces of red, gold and green paint could be seen on her clothing and I have represented this in my portrait of her. I was lucky to find out a lot about Elizabeth, her children and other aspects of her life during the 1480s.

Another often-forgotten woman from the period is Joan Canynges. Joan was the wife of William Cangynges, a celebrated Medieval celebrity of Bristol and wealthy merchant. He served repeatedly as Mayor, and was known to both Henry VI and Edward IV. In 1461 the couple were recorded hosting Edward at their home shortly after his accession. A look at women’s roles in the household during the fifteenth century revealed that it would have been Joan behind many of these arrangements ensuring rooms were ready, food was ordered and suitable entertainments were provided for the king. The Canynges’ lived near St Mary’s Church in the Redcliffe area of the city in a large and extravagant building with a viewing tower so William could spot his ships laden with goods approaching the harbour. Joan’s effigy can be found with William’s in St Mary’s Church, and my portrait of her was based on this likeness. Medieval effigies are often very stylised and it is difficult to find distinguishable, individual features. Very often these likenesses were created as a symbol of their person rather than as a faithful representation of how the person looked in life. However Joan and William’s effigies do have definite individual characteristics and it is likely that this is how we would have seen them if we could time-travel back to fifteenth-century Bristol. I’ve drawn her in the clothing and colours she wears in her monument.

Finally, I wanted to bring Anne Neville to life in my drawing. She experienced so much of the conflict, and is not often acknowledged for the effects it had on her, as well as her role as a participant. Her father, grandfather and first husband were all killed in or immediately after battle, while her marriage to Edward Prince of Wales forged a Lancastrian alliance between Margaret of Anjou and her father, the Earl of Warwick. Tudor historians portrayed Anne as the depressed and tragic wife of Richard III, but traces of her role as consort suggest she was, from what we can see, in fact a dutiful and active queen. It is unfortunate that she was, to some extent, overshadowed by the actions of her father and second husband. I based my likeness of Anne from two very stylised contemporary depictions of her: on the Salisbury Roll and the Rous Roll. I love how Anne’s expression is a little off guard, as if we’ve caught a glimpse of her across a room. 

About the book:

Forgotten Women of the Wars of the Roses: The Untold History Behind the Battle for the Crown by Jo Romero

The book seeks to acknowledge the wider roles of women during the Wars of the Roses at all levels of society. It dives into their families, daily lives, homes and fashions, depicting them as the flesh and blood participants they were, against the backdrop of these wars. They were involved behind the scenes of battles, suffered legal consequences, and supported their families commercially and politically. They were negotiators, diplomats, commanders, rebels and spies but they were also wives, mothers and daughters.

https://www.pen-and-sword.co.uk/Forgotten-Women-of-the-Wars-of-the-Roses-Hardback/p/24403

Jo Romero has loved history for as long as she can remember, and achieved her BA (Hons) degree in History: Medieval and Modern, at the University of Hull in 1998. She is a history blogger at the Love British History blog and is active on social media. Jo is also an artist, and posts work depicting historical buildings and people under the social media profile @sketcherjoey. 

Links:

Blog: https://www.lovebritishhistory.co.uk

Facebook: https://facebook.com/lovebritishhistory

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lovebritishhistorypics

Instagram (art): https://www.instagram.com/sketcherjoey

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@lovebritishhistory

Not a guest post this Monday – The Little History of Derbyshire

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When I began university, I was told that by the time I finished I would be able to unwrap layers of history in the landscape where I lived, rather like an onion. I’m not so sure about the onion simile and the word palimpsest doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.

A palimpsest was originally a term used to described text written over an older layer of writing at a time when parchment was expensive. One layer is scraped off and another applied.

The truth of the matter is that in Derbyshire, and all the counties I’ve ever lived, elements of the past sit alongside the present, intertwining with one another like different fabrics in a patchwork quilt. Each one adds a new layer of meaning and in Derbyshire, it begins with geology. The landscape has shaped the people who lived here just as much as they shaped it.

One of my favourite links between landscape and the people who lived in Derbyshire is T’Owd Man of Wirksworth. He’s a small carved figure of a miner with a pick and workman’s basket, or kibble, dating from the Saxon period. He can be found on one of the stones in the south transept of St Mary’s Church.

Not that he began life in Wirksworth – The old man, or ‘T’Owd Man’ as the carving is known, was found during the restoration of the largely fourteenth century St James’ Church in the nearby village of Bonsall. T’Owd Man is thought to have originated from an earlier church and was reused as part of the foundations of the medieval building.  From Bonsall he found his way to the garden of the local churchwarden, John Broxup Coates. At some time between 1870 and 1874 T’Owd Man was rescued from his role as a garden ornament and incorporated into the walls of St Mary’s which was undergoing its own restoration.

The carving is thought to be Britain’s earliest representation of a miner – which is a seriously cool claim.

The Little History of Derbyshire will be available at the end of May.

https://www.thehistorypress.co.uk/publication/the-little-history-of-derbyshire/9781803994154/

Guest Post Monday: The Babington Plot, Espionage, and Execution

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Yes – I know it’s Tuesday! let’s just say that the wifi and I agreed to disagree.

I am delighted to welcome Helene Harrison, the TudorBlogger, to the History jar to talk about her book. If you’re a fan of the Tudors in both fiction and non-fiction and haven’t yet found her blog, I urge your to take a digital stroll in her direction! I did wonder which conspiracy Helene would post about and was very pleasantly surprised when I opened up her email to discover the Babington Plot – I’d never thought about having a favourite rebellion but I’d have to say, now she’s said it – Babington is right up there, mainly I think because of childhood memories of a BBC serialisation of A Traveller in Time by Alison Uttley. I would have to say I have a sneaking regard for the Northern Rebellion of 1569 mainly because quite a lot of the action takes place on the borders between England and Scotland – and as those of you who know me are aware, anything hinting of border reivers makes me very happy.

And now over to Helene.

When I was invited to write something for The History Jar, it took me a while to decide what to write about – my first book is entitled ‘Elizabethan Rebellions: Conspiracy, Intrigue and Treason’ and I wondered whether to write about a popular rebellion, or a lesser known one, but in the end, I’ve decided to write about my favourite of the Elizabethan rebellions: the Babington Plot of 1586. There is so much to it, and I discovered a lot in the research.

The Babington Plot of 1586 was a key plot in Elizabeth I’s reign, as it resulted in the execution of Mary Queen of Scots the following year. But it also demonstrated many of the things that our secret services traditionally are believed to have used and valued, including espionage, double agents, and codes and ciphers. Elizabeth’s spymaster, Sir Francis Walsingham, and Secretary of State, William Cecil, Baron Burghley, were critical figures who effectively highjacked a plot in its very early stages and turned it to their own advantage – to condemn Mary for treason and stop her being a threat to Elizabeth.

Mary Queen of Scots had been in England since she had fled from Scotland in 1568 after her forced abdication in 1567. She had been shunted between various residences in England, never allowing to meet her cousin, Elizabeth I. She had hoped that Elizabeth would provide her with an army to retake the Scottish throne from her son, James VI, who was governed by a Regency in his infancy. Mary became desperate when it was obvious that she wasn’t going to get any help from Elizabeth and that the queen just intended to keep her in captivity, not really knowing quite what to do with her.

The plot gets its name from Anthony Babington, who was raised in a Catholic family, and had previously worked for Gilbert Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, who was Mary Queen of Scots’s gaoler. There were even rumours that Shrewsbury was having an affair with Mary; his wife, Bess of Hardwick, is certainly said to have believed it. It is probably while working for Shrewsbury that Babington first encountered Mary and became her supporter. Many of these young Catholic gentlemen that Babington gathered around him saw Mary almost as a damsel in distress who needed to be rescued. It was this which drew them together in their decision to assassinate Elizabeth I and replace her on the throne with Mary Queen of Scots.

Mary’s communications were cut off when she was moved to Chartley in the charge of the much stricter Amyas Paulet. When Mary was approached by Gilbert Gifford, who told her he could reopen her lines of communications securely, she jumped at the chance! Walsingham had planned well, hoping that cutting Mary’s lines of communication completely and then reintroducing some hope for word from the outside world, would force her into making a mistake. It worked. The plan was for any letter Mary wrote to be put in a waterproof pouch and inserted into a cask used to delivered ale to the house. The brewer would then remove the letter and give it to Gifford who would take the letter to the plotters in London. It would also work in reverse for Mary to receive letters. 

However, what Mary didn’t know was that Gilbert Gifford was a double agent working for Francis Walsingham. The brewer was also in Walsingham’s pay as well as Mary’s. Any letters that Gifford couriered would go via Walsingham and his codebreaker, Thomas Phelippes. Walsingham was aware of the Babington Plot almost from the beginning, using it to attempt to implicate Mary Queen of Scots in treasonous activity. The letters would all be written in cipher, but Phelippes cracked the cipher, it seems fairly easily, and so could read all of the letters going between Mary and the plotters. Neither the plotters nor Mary realised that their cipher had been broken and their plans revealed. The plot never had a chance of succeeding. 

Babington wrote to Mary at Chartley asking her to consent to the killing of Elizabeth I, her own rescue, and her replacing Elizabeth on the English throne. Mary made a fatal mistake and wrote back, consenting to Elizabeth’s assassination, and asking the six men to go about their work. When the codebreaker, Phelippes, received Mary’s letter he drew a small gallows on the bottom of the deciphered letter before sending it to Walsingham. Mary had condemned herself, even though the plan never really got off the ground. Phelippes also added a postscript to the original letter before sending it on to its destination, asking for the names of the men who would carry out the regicide. 

Mary was arrested when out riding at Chartley, and her rooms were searched. Anthony Babington was discovered hiding in a tree in St John’s Wood. Legend says that the plotters commissioned a painting of them together and that is how they were identified and captured. The plotters were executed in two batches, having been found guilty of treason. The first batch, including Babington himself, were hung, drawn, and quartered. Elizabeth wouldn’t allow any mercy. However, there was a public outcry, so the second batch were allowed to hang until dead before being disembowelled and quartered. 

Mary Queen of Scots was tried in the great hall at Fotheringhay Castle in October 1586, where statements from her own secretaries were read out, and Walsingham presented the evidence of the letters and the cipher. Babington had signed a copy of the cipher to confirm that this was in fact the cipher used. Mary was found guilty of treason at a council session at Westminster and condemned to death. Elizabeth I initially refused to sign the death warrant, but signed it several times and destroyed it, before finally signing it and entrusting it to her secretary, William Davison. Davison took it straight to the privy council who sealed it and sent it to Fotheringhay Castle without further consultation with the queen.

Mary Queen of Scots was executed in the great hall at Fotheringhay Castle on 8 February 1587. She died wearing red, the colour of martyrdom. The executioner, Bull, missed the neck with the first stroke and hit the back of the head. The second stroke hit the neck leaving only a few sinews attached which were quickly severed. The executioner held up the head, but it fell, leaving Bull holding only a wig. Mary’s dog was found hiding in her skirts, covered in his mistress’s blood. The dog was cleaned up but pined away shortly after Mary’s death.

Peterborough Cathedral was Mary’s initial place of burial, before her removal from there to be buried at Westminster Abbey when her son, James VI of Scotland, became James I of England. Mary Queen of Scots and Elizabeth I are now closer in death than they ever were in life.

Author Bio

Helene Harrison MA MSc BA (Hons) studied at the University of Northumbria in Newcastle, achieving both a BA and an MA in History before going on to complete an MSc in Library Management. Her passion for Tudor history started when studying for A Levels and completing a module on Tudor rebellions. Her Masters dissertation focused on portrayals of Anne Boleyn through the centuries, from contemporary letters to modern TV and film adaptations. Now she writes two blogs, one Tudor history and one book-related, and loves visiting royal palaces and snuggling up with a book or embroidery project.

Book Blurb & Links

Elizabeth I. Tudor, Queen, Protestant.

Throughout her reign, Elizabeth I had to deal with many rebellions which aimed to undermine her rule and overthrow her. Led in the main by those who wanted religious freedom and to reap the rewards of power, each one was thwarted but left an indelible mark on Queen Elizabeth and her governance of England. Learning from earlier Tudor rebellions under Elizabeth’s grandfather, father, and siblings, they were dealt with mercilessly by spymaster Francis Walsingham who pushed for the execution of Mary Queen of Scots due to her involvement, and who created one of the first government spy networks in England. 

Espionage, spying, and hidden ciphers would demonstrate the lengths Mary was willing to go to gain her freedom and how far Elizabeth’s advisors would go to stop her and protect their Virgin Queen. Elizabeth I and Mary Queen of Scots were rival queens on the same island, pushed together due to religious intolerance and political instability, which created the perfect conditions for revolt, where power struggles would continue even after Mary’s death. The Elizabethan period is most often described as a Golden Age; Elizabeth I had the knowledge and insight to deal with cases of conspiracy, intrigue, and treason, and perpetuate her own myth of Gloriana.

Pen & Sword – https://www.pen-and-sword.co.uk/Elizabethan-Rebellions-Hardback/p/22351

Amazon UK – https://www.amazon.co.uk/Elizabethan-Rebellions-Conspiracy-Intrigue-Treason/dp/1399081993

Waterstones – https://www.waterstones.com/book/elizabethan-rebellions/helene-harrison/9781399081993

Barnes and Noble – https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/elizabethan-rebellions-helene-harrison/1142446644?ean=9781399081993

Social Media

Website – https://tudorblogger.com/   

Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/tudorblogger  

Instagram – https://www.instagram.com/tudorblogger/  

Twitter/X – https://twitter.com/tudorblogger

Threads – https://www.threads.net/@tudorblogger  Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/23006560.Helene_Harrison

Guest Post Monday -Judith Arnopp – My reasons for writing How to Dress like a Tudor

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This week I’m delighted to welcome Judith Arnopp to the History Jar. I thoroughly enjoyed finding out more about what motivates her and admiring her tailoring skills – she makes dressing up as a Tudor sound very appealing! But if you’re one of my Zoom class don’t expect to see me clad as a Tudor lady anytime soon.

Without further ado, over to Judith…whose book is now on my Christmas List – those reindeer are never going to get off the ground given the number of history books I’m hoping for this year.

I would probably have never written the book had I not begun to sew my own Tudor clothes. I’ve always played about with fabric and thread but never attempted anything vaguely historical until I began to take part in reenactments.

I love to visit Raglan Castle during their annual Tudor event where I sell my historical fiction books to the public and meet readers. It is fun, and in the early days, to blend in with the other reenactment groups my husband and I dressed up. Initially our get up was very simple and not even close to accurate but then I purchased a second-hand gown made by Gina Clark and became hooked …on dressing up, not sewing at this point.

After a few years the lovely red gown somehow shrunk, or perhaps I got fatter, I don’t know but I needed a new one and the price was way beyond my budget. I began to wonder about making my own. By this time, I was already making hoods and shifts and partlets, but could I make a gown?

Turns out, the answer was no! The first one was awful but luckily, I’d made it from curtains, just as an experiment to see if I could do it. Yes, I was downhearted at the failure, and it took a several months before I summoned the nerve to try again. This one turned out sightly better, at least it fitted and had a good width of skirt. I tried again, this time coming up with a wearable gown. (see pic one)

Unfortunately, just as I was all set to wear it, Covid 19 reared its ugly head and by the time we were allowed out again I had grown even fatter – this is what happens when someone with hypothyroidism is forbidden adequate exercise and locked up with free access to cake. I went on a diet but by this time had begun to yearn for an English style gown, rather than the French style I’d made before. So, I studied a few portraits and got my sewing kit out again.  (see pic two)

I hadn’t even finished work on this when I was approached to write a book on Tudor clothing – after so many failed attempts I didn’t feel I was qualified but then someone pointed out that I could encourage other would-be sewers to have a go and show them that perseverance can pay off. So that is what I did.

The Tudors have always enthralled me. I read about them while I was at school, and as an adult, and when I enrolled in university as a mature student it was the obvious era to choose to study. Having spent much of his life in exile, when Henry VII ascended the throne, he was largely unknown to the people. He was keen to promote the new Tudor dynasty and to show his line off to its best advantage. He stressed the royal connection of his mother, Margaret Beaufort, and her descent from John of Gaunt and legally removed the stigma of bastardy from the family, reiterating the royal descent of his grandmother, Katherine of Valois. More surprisingly, he also claimed descent from the ancient Welsh King Cadwaladr, and King Arthur. The legend of Arthur states that the king will one day return to England, and to give credence to this, Henry named his first-born son Arthur. Unfortunately for Henry, Arthur was not to survive long enough to become King, that honour fell to his younger brother, Henry, better known as Henry VIII.

Henry VIII made no secret of his love for fine clothes and on becoming king, spent vast amounts of money on his wardrobe and further embellishing the Tudor image. Holbein’s famous portrait records a monumental figure, strong, powerful, and fabulously dressed. Everything in the portrait, from the jewels in his hat to his fine slashed shoes point to power, and his prominent codpiece speaks, rather ironically in a man who struggled to obtain heirs, of fertility. 

Henry’s heirs took this idea of power portraiture even further, in the later portraits of Elizabeth I she is almost obliterated. All we see are her huge sleeves, heavily embroidered gowns, and jeweled embellishments. She is the ultimate Tudor icon.  

Of course, although the nobility aspired to match the monarchs, they could not afford such extremes, but even Henry wouldn’t have dressed so grandly every day. Most reenactors cannot hope to accurately emulate the opulence of royalty, but we do our best and even lower-class clothing is great fun to wear. Sometimes I actually prefer my lower status clothes to my fine gowns; they are not so warm, movement is freer and you can roll up your sleeves and take off a few layers. 

A world full of royalty and nobles is dull and there are other roles to play. You can choose from cooks, monks, housewives, prostitutes, costermongers, millers – the list is endless and there is something for everyone.

How to Dress like a Tudor is not aimed at skilled sewers; it is for those who know little more than how to thread a needle, sew a few basic stitches, but are prepared for a steep learning curve. The book also provides a history of Tudor clothing from the reign of Henry VII through to Elizabeth I, offering reference for those who are studying history, or writing in the historical period. The second, smaller section of the book offers advice on how to sew Tudor clothing, with suggestions for patterns, suppliers, fabric choices, ways to cheat and most of all, I hope it encourages people to just give it a go.

Author bio

Judith writes historical fiction set during the late medieval and Tudor period. Her usual focus is on the women who lived close to the monarch, women like Margaret Beaufort, Elizabeth of York and Mary Tudor but more recently has been writing from the perspective of Henry VIII himself. Her books are on Kindle, Audible and Paperback.

You can find her fiction books here: http://author.to/juditharnoppbooks

She also writes non-fiction, her work featuring in many anthologies and online magazines. Her latest non-fiction, How to Dress like a Tudor published by Pen & Sword Books is available now. 

http://mybook.to/howtodress

Judith is a founder member of a reenactment group The Fyne Company of Cambria, and began making Tudor costumes for herself, her husband, John, and other members of the group. It was this that inspired How to Dress like a Tudor and she hopes to write more non-fiction Tudor history in the future.

You can find Judith on Facebook, Twitter, Linked-in, Goodreads, Bluesky, Instagram, webpage

Guestpost Monday: Sharon Bennett Connolly- Nicholaa de la Haye and me

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It’s a real delight to welcome Sharon Bennett Connolly to The History Jar as my first guest blogger. I love her blog, History the Interesting Bits and her books. Those of you who have attended my medieval classes will probably have at least one of her books on your own shelves including Heroines of the Medieval World and Ladies of the Magna Carta. I recently posted on History the Interesting Bits (https://historytheinterestingbits.com/2023/10/07/guest-post-the-kingmakers-women-by-julia-a-hickey/) and it turns out that we may have a bit of a mutual appreciation society going on which leaves me feeling very honoured as really do admire the way that Sharon has drawn women previously left to languish in the footnotes into the limelight. So without further ado over to Sharon…

Well, it has been quite a journey, but King John’s Right Hand Lady, my biography of Nicholaa de la Haye is now out in the world. My journey with Nicholaa started with a blog post in 2015, shortly after a day trip to Lincoln Castle with my son. Nicholaa’s story really caught my attention. From that day on, I devoured everything I could find on Nicholaa, scouring the internet for details of her life and the events in which she was involved. I bought a copy of Louise Wilkinson’s excellent study, Women in Thirteenth Century Lincolnshire, which included Nicholaa’s story. And when I started thinking about writing a book, Nicholaa came to mind. In 2016, I entered a competition with a publisher, to have my first book published and Nicholaa was one of the inspirations. 

In Heroines of the Medieval World, I wanted to tell the stories of the most incredible women in medieval history and Nicholaa was certainly in my Top 10. And from that book, I started thinking that there was more scope to examine the women related to the Magna Carta story, especially Nicholaa and her contemporary,  Matilda de Braose. The conflicting lives and experiences of these two women inspired Ladies of Magna Carta: Women of Influence in Thirteenth Century England; while Matilda became King John’s bitter enemy and ultimate victim, Nicholaa was a loyal ally, trusted to hold Lincoln Castle against the rebel barons, despite being a woman. 

As I was researching Nicholaa’s story for Ladies of Magna Carta, I got very excited as I realised that I may have enough material for a full biography. I contacted my editor, expecting her to shut me down and say ‘no thanks, no one will be interested.’ But, instead, she said ‘go for it!’ And the project was born.

Nicholaa’s career spanned sixty years, four kings and two husbands and, in a time when men fought and women stayed home, Nicholaa de la Haye held Lincoln Castle against all-comers. In 1191, 1216 and 1217, it was Nicholaa who defended the besieged castle, earning herself the ironic praise that she acted ‘manfully’. Nicholaa gained prominence in the First Baron’s War, the civil war that followed the sealing of Magna Carta in 1215. 

On one of King John’s visits to inspect Lincoln’s defences in 1216, a recently-widowed Nicholaa met him at the gates and presented the king with the keys to the castle, claiming she was too old and weary to continue in her duties. John refused to accept her resignation, instructing Nicholaa to keep hold of the castle until he ordered otherwise. Whether Nicholaa ever intended to give up Lincoln, or the event was staged so that John could demonstrate his continued trust in Nicholaa, is open to debate. I suspect it was the latter. John was in the midst of civil war and running short of allies. Nicholaa had already demonstrated her abilities at defending Lincoln, and her loyalty to John – he would have been hard put to replace her. However, the event gave John the opportunity to reinforce his trust in Nicholaa in front of his barons.

Intent on continuing the civil war, the rebel barons invited the king of France to take the throne of England. The king refused, but his son, Louis (the future Louis VIII), accepted the offer and was hailed as King of England in London in June 1216.

That summer, Nicholaa prevented another siege of Lincoln Castle by paying off a rebel army, led by Gilbert de Gant, who remained in occupation of the city of Lincoln but lifted the siege of the castle. As Louis consolidated his position in the south, John fell desperately ill, probably from dysentery and halted at Newark Castle, where he died on the night of 18/19 October 1216. King John valued her so much that, from his deathbed, he appointed her sheriff of Lincolnshire; Nicholaa was the first woman ever to be appointed as a county sheriff.

Shortly after John’s death, the rebels returned to Lincoln.

Although now her 60s, Nicholaa endured a siege that lasted close to seven months, resisting the English rebel barons and their French allies with all she had, and giving the regents for the new king, nine-year-old Henry III, time to gather their forces and come to her aid. 

The siege ended in the Battle of Lincoln, also known as the Lincoln Fair, when 70-year-old William Marshal, known to history the Greatest Knight, spurred on by the chivalrous need to rescue a lady in distress – and to send the French packing – marched on Lincoln. The six-hour battle, fought in the tightly packed medieval streets of the city of Lincoln, was the turning point in the war. Within months of Marshal’s victory, the French had gone home, and the English rebels were swearing allegiance to Henry III.

The French chronicler Anonymous of Bethune described Nicholaa as ‘a very cunning, bad-hearted and vigorous old woman.’ Perhaps they were sore losers!

And how was Nicholaa thanked for such a stalwart defence of Lincoln Castle? Within four days of the battle her office as sheriff of Lincolnshire was given to William Longspée, Earl of Salisbury – the king’s uncle. Salisbury then seized the castle, evicting Nicholaa. Why? Because Salisbury’s son was married to Nicholaa’s granddaughter and the earl thought he should control the young couple’s inheritance. Did he really think Nicholaa would give up without a fight? Did he think seven months of siege had taken the fight out of her?

He should have known better.

Nicholaa appealed to the king and the privy council and got herself reinstated as constable of Lincoln Castle. She never got to be sheriff of Lincolnshire again, but at least she got her castle back. Not that Salisbury was one to give up either and there are various instances throughout the early 1220s of Salisbury trying to take the castle, through siege, subterfuge and persuasion. He tried everything! But Nicholaa would not give up – Salisbury would die first, which he did! And three months after Salisbury’s death, Nicholaa finally retired, resigning her custody of Lincoln Castle and settling on her manor at Swaton, Lincolnshire, where she died in 1230. She was buried in the local church, St Michael’s, where her tomb can still be seen today.

Nicholaa de la Haye was a staunch supporter of King John, remaining loyal to the very end, even after most of his knights and barons had deserted him. And I wanted to know why. Why did Nicholaa support John? Why did she not rebel like the rest of them? She must have known how heavy-handed and brutal John could be. She must have known the dreadful fate of Matilda de Braose – starved to death in one of John’s dungeons. So, what made her stay loyal?

To both King John and Henry III, she was ‘our beloved and faithful Nicholaa de la Haye.’

A truly remarkable lady, Nicholaa was the first woman to be appointed sheriff in her own right. Her strength and tenacity saved England at one of the lowest points in its history. 

It is often said that the best thing John ever did was die when he did. 

No. 

The best thing he ever did was appoint Nicholaa as sheriff!

Nicholaa de la Haye is one woman in English history whose story needs to be told…

About the book:

King John’s Right Hand Lady: The Story of Nicholaa de la Haye by Sharon Bennett Connolly

In a time when men fought and women stayed home, Nicholaa de la Haye held Lincoln Castle against all-comers. Not once, but three times, earning herself the ironic praise that she acted ‘manfully’. Nicholaa gained prominence in the First Baron’s War, the civil war that followed the sealing of Magna Carta in 1215. Although recently widowed, and in her 60s, in 1217 Nicholaa endured a siege that lasted over three months, resisting the English rebel barons and their French allies. The siege ended in the battle known as the Lincoln Fair, when 70-year-old William Marshal, the Greatest Knight in Christendom, spurred on by the chivalrous need to rescue a lady in distress, came to Nicholaa’s aid. Nicholaa de la Haye was a staunch supporter of King John, remaining loyal to the very end, even after most of his knights and barons had deserted him. A truly remarkable lady, Nicholaa was the first woman to be appointed sheriff in her own right. Her strength and tenacity saved England at one of the lowest points in its history. Nicholaa de la Haye is one woman in English history whose story needs to be told…

mybook.to/Nicholaa

Sharon Bennett Connolly FRHistS is the best-selling author of 4 non-fiction history books, including Heroines of the Medieval World and Ladies of Magna Carta: Women of Influence in Thirteenth Century England. Her latest book, a biography, King John’s Right-Hand Lady: The Story of Nicholaa de la Haye, was published in May 2023. A Fellow of the Royal Historical Society, Sharon has studied history academically and just for fun – and has even worked as a tour guide at a castle. She writes the popular history blog, www.historytheinterestingbits.com and regularly gives talks on women’s history. Sharon is a feature writer for All About History magazine and her TV work includes Australian Television’s ‘Who Do You Think You Are?‘

Links:

Blog: https://historytheinterestingbits.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Thehistorybits/

Twitter: @Thehistorybits

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sharonbennettconnolly/?hl=en

Amazon: http://viewauthor.at/SharonBennettConnolly

Podcast: A Slice of Medieval (https://soundcloud.com/user-142525904)