What am I doing now? Research, research, research! And there's a reason for Charlie and Davey among roses!
It wasn't supposed to be research, research, reseach, though it's lots of fun. My grail story would be written fairly fast, I thought, because I'd done the history research. I know about the events at the end of the Stephen and Matilda wars. I'm riffing slightly off the Parsifal story, and I'd read variants of that. I knew the clothing, armor, food....
But it's never like that, is it? (Why raspberries? They have a place in the story, and this is a medieval picture, though I'm not sure of the date. Apologies if the pics are strange sizes. I still haven't figured out Typepad's new system. I selected "small" for the raspberries, but they're looking big to me now!)
First, my heroine insisted that she wasn't a gardener or herbalist, or any of the other easy placeholder skills I had in mind (she's soon going off on an adventure, and I didn't particularly expect her skills to be important.) No, she's a brewer, or alewife, I suppose. Except that she's a nun. But that's another matter.
Do you think an ale-maker more interesting than a gardener or healer? What about other trades, assuming the heroine has one at all. This is a working nunnery, so she could be a carpenter or even a butcher!
Fortunately I do have some books to hand that tell me about medieval ale making. You do know, BTW, that the difference between ale and beer is that beer has hops in it? Ale was also the main drink and continued so into the 18th century. Daily ale was a weak drink, quickly made and refreshing. An important factor, however, was that ale-making required boiling water, and this made it safe to drink when water wasn't always. It was only supplanted by tea, which also requires boiling water, and certainly my aged grandmother was insistent that the kettle be at a really good boil and stay there for a few minutes before the water was poured on the tea. A remnant of folk wisdom that said this made it safe?
Then roses became important to my story. (Another medieval picture.) Flowers were already important, but as we hashed around a title with our editor, we ended up with A Chalice of Roses, which is a lovely title, but I decided I might as well make roses significant. (The we, of course, is the Faery Four -- me, Mary Jo Putney, Barbara Samuel, and Karen Harbaugh.)
No problem. I know the basics, and Margaret explained most of it beautifully. Roses were much more limited in the middle ages. They bloomed once, round about June, and my story takes place later, but that's fine, because the blooming is supposed to be magical or miraculous. We had an old fashioned rose in our garden here that bloomed just once a year so here's a picture. Medieval cultivated roses were probably similar.
(There's an interesting distinction between magical and miraculous, isn't there, which manages to push magic into trickery, and keep miracles for the divine. I wonder if that's warranted. It seems to deny earth magic, and I'm not sure that's fair. Any opinion?)
So all was fine until my heroine found a fresh rose petal, and not just any petal, but a blood red one! I rushed off to the books and found that there was indeed a rose that might be blooming in July. It was a crusader import that was called the Autumn Damask Rose because though it put out its main blooms in June, a few more would come right up into September. It was darker, too. But not, alas, blood red.
Ah well, when I'm writing a Grail story, I have to expect some miracles, or even some magic. Onward!
But then, just as I think I'm set, it appears that Rosewell Nunnery* is not a day's journey from Glastonbury in Somerset, but only two miles away, and that my heroine, Sister Gledys is fascinated by Glastonbury Tor, the great hill that sticks up there. (The tower wasn't there in the middle ages. The photographer apologizes that this picture is taken with a cell phone, but I like the mystery of it. Source, Creative Commons and here.)
(*Did you know that convent is a recent word? My sister the nun enlightened me there. Came as a shock, as I've made that mistake a few times.)
It also occurs to me that this story is developing some similarities to my story in Dragon Lovers, but I can't seem to prevent it. At least Gledys is not going to be eaten by dragons, I can promise you that!
All else, she mutters, is in the hands of the magic and miracles that we call writing.
Just in case you don't know, the legend of Glastonbury is that it was founded by Joseph of Arimathea, he who gave up his grave for Jesus's body. Legend says that he used the cup of the Last Supper to catch Christ's blood at the cross, and that he later took the cup to England, to Somerset, and buried it at the base of Glastonbury Tor. More that than, some versions say the Tor is a portal to another dimension, or another world. Isn't this all fun? I love it.
And of course the other extension of the legend is that Joseph was a sea trader, and also a relation of Jesus of Nazareth's, and that he took him to England at least once, maybe many times. That Jesus, being a carpenter, helped Joseph build a church at Glastonbury. The Old Church did once exist where Glastonbury Abbey later stood, but no one knows when it was built.
This is the genesis of the famous poem by William Blake, that became a hymn still sung today.
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon England's mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God
On England's pleasant pastures seen?
And did the Countenance Divine
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here
Among those dark Satanic mills?
Bring me my bow of burning gold:
Bring me my arrows of desire:
Bring me my spear: O clouds, unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire!
I will not cease from mental fight,
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.
There's a performance on You Tube with some nice pictures.
So I'm having lots of fun, but my story's only half told, and keeps shapeshifting in my hands in a very magical way, and I want it finished before I go to England in a few weeks. At which point, I intend to visit Glastonbury, which won't be far away. Perhaps I'll blog about that then. And, of course, The Secret Wedding is coming closer and closer!
Jo :)