jeri westerson | Author Suzanne Adair

The Historical in “Historical Fantasy/Steampunk”

Posted on October 8, 2019 by suzanneadairOctober 7, 2019

Historical fantasy/steampunk author Jeri Westerson describes the depth of historical research she used for her series.

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Relevant History welcomes back Los Angeles native Jeri Westerson, author of twelve Crispin Guest Medieval Noir Mystery novels, a series nominated for thirteen national awards from the Agatha to the Shamus. Jeri also writes two paranormal series: “Booke of the Hidden,” and the “Enchanter Chronicles Trilogy,” the first of which is The Daemon Device. (Watch the trailer here.) She has served two terms as president of the Southern California Chapter of Mystery Writers of America, twice president of the Orange County Chapter of Sisters in Crime, and as vice president for the Los Angeles Chapter of Sisters in Crime. To learn more about Jeri and her books, visit her web site (plus Enchanter Chronicles), and follow her on Facebook, Instagram, and Goodreads.

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It’s fantasy, you say. Why does it need to be historical? Can’t you just make it all up?

Not on my watch, missy.

Since I come from a background steeped in historical research for my Crispin Guest Medieval Noir Mysteries, it was natural to do the research needed for a Victorian setting for my fantasy/steampunk venture, The Daemon Device, book one in the Enchanter Chronicles Trilogy.

Having a foundation in the real history gives the magic system I’ve created a certain weight. It grounds the reader in the familiar before it branches off into its fantasy realm, a place where even fantastical machinery is powered by steam (hence the “steampunk” aspect) as well as a certain level of magic.

Steampunk is one of those “speculative fiction” sub-genres, usually tied in one way or another with a smattering of science fiction and sometimes a supernatural aspect, as well as alternate history.

My history is just a smidge “alternate” with Prince Albert surviving his brush with pneumonia to live a long life with Queen Victoria, and the fact that dirigibles are commonplace, chugging through the sooty skies of London. It’s all matter-of-fact, don’t you know. That’s just the backdrop to the fantasy part, the part with my magician, Leopold Kazsmer, the Great Enchanter, with his Jewish/Romani heritage he is none too proud of. A man who has learned through his study of the Kabbalah to summon Jewish daemons to help him perform real magic. “Daemons” as in the helpful kind as opposed to “demons”, the evil kind.

Daemons vs demons
And that, too, led to some research into what the interpretation of demons has been between the Judeo and Christian sides of scriptures. Jewish mysticism goes in some surprising directions. In Judaism, for instance, there is no Hell as Christians have defined it. No pitchfork Devil in charge of tormenting souls for all eternity. Instead, Jewish belief is that there cannot be eternal punishment for a finite life of sin. God just isn’t that vindictive. The writings talk of Gehenna—a place of waiting and working out one’s remorse for past sins (like purgatory)—and was the dwelling of the daemons. Its partner in another locale but Gehenna-adjacent is Sitra Achra, the place where all evil comes from.

The word “daemon” itself is a Latin version of a Greek word for benevolent spirits. It starts to get complicated from there between the Kabbalah (Jewish mysticism), the Talmud (commentary on Jewish civil and ceremonial law and legend), and translations between languages.

Mysticism meets magic
History sure gives you a choice of protagonists as well as antagonists, and plenty of real-world events to draw into your fiction, including Imperial Germany’s gearing up for the first run of the Master Race in World War I. It wasn’t hard to conjure up a Germanic order of world domination. Using dirigibles to do it? Hey, why not?

Added to that, is the world of the nineteenth century magician. If you look at some of the posters from the era, there is plenty of use of demon imagery, where even the magician Carter “Beats the Devil.”

In the mid-1800s in the United States, Ouija Boards were coming into vogue with a huge upsurge of interest in spiritualism (possibly due to the many deaths in the American Civil War). It was touted as a wholesome activity for the whole family! And why not? If Aunt Effie kicked the bucket before you could visit her deathbed, you could always call her up on the Spirit Board and say your good-byes then. By 1891, the first few advertisements hit the papers for “Ouija, the Wonderful Talking Board.”

I’ve always been fascinated by this time period of magicians, spiritualism, ghosts, and ectoplasm, where séances and the investigation into the next world compelled and enthralled, and science was still crossed with a certain level of mysticism, where maybe magic was a real possibility. Ask Sir Arthur Conan Doyle of Sherlock Holmes fame, a séance fancier, and who was gullible enough to believe a couple of little girls took pictures of fairies in their garden.

It’s a time where anything could happen. And anything can…with a little magic.

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A big thanks to Jeri Westerson! She’ll give away an ebook copy of The Daemon Device to someone who contributes a comment on my blog this week. I’ll choose the winner from among those who comment by Friday at 6 p.m. ET. Delivery is available worldwide.

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Did you like what you read? Learn about downloads, discounts, and special offers from Relevant History authors and Suzanne Adair. Subscribe to Suzanne’s free newsletter. And check out my Patreon, now live!

Medieval Beasties

Posted on August 29, 2018 by suzanneadairAugust 29, 2018

Relevant History welcomes back Jeri Westerson, author of the Crispin Guest Medieval Noir novels, a series nominated for thirteen national awards, from the Agatha to the Shamus. For her debut urban fantasy series, Booke of the Hidden, Publishers Weekly said, “Readers sad about the ending of Charlaine Harris’s “Midnight, Texas” trilogy will find some consolation in Moody Bog.” The next in the series, Deadly Rising, releases in October. Jeri is twice former president of SoCalMWA and OC SinC, and former vice president of SinC-LA. To learn more about her and her books, visit her web site, and follow her on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

*****

In my latest Crispin Guest Medieval Noir, called The Deepest Grave, my disgraced knight turned detective Crispin and his apprentice Jack, are called upon to investigate the graveyard of a nearby church where the priest claims that he has seen the dead walk. In the book, Crispin speaks of “Revenants” from the Latin, meaning “the returned” specifically from the dead, which implies both vampires and zombies.

Hunting a vampire isn’t easy
Let’s look at some of the historical roots of vamps first. The dead have been walking a long time. Since even before biblical accounts. Long before Bram Stoker penned his bestseller in 1897. Matthew Beresford, author of From Demons to Dracula: The Creation of the Modern Vampire Myth, notes, “There are clear foundations for the vampire in the ancient world, and it is impossible to prove when the myth first arose. There are suggestions that the vampire was born out of sorcery in ancient Egypt, a demon summoned into this world from some other.” You’ll find the idea of vampires all around the world: Asian vampires, such as the Chinese jiangshi, evil spirits that attack people and drain their life energy; the blood-drinking wrathful deities that appear in the Tibetan Book of the Dead, and from ancient Egypt.

Some vampires are said to be able to turn into bats or wolves; others can’t. Some are said not to cast a reflection, others do. Holy water and sunlight are said to repel or kill some vampires, but not others. The one universal characteristic is the draining of blood.

Hunting a vampire isn’t easy. According to one Romanian legend you’ll need a seven-year-old boy and a white horse. The boy should be dressed in white, placed on the horse, and then both set loose in a graveyard at midday. Watch the horse wander around, and wherever the horse stops, that’s a vampire’s grave. Or…there’s just really good grass there.

In Vampires, Burial, and Death: Folklore and Reality, folklorist Paul Barber noted that centuries ago, “Often potential revenants can be identified at birth, usually by some defect, like when a child is born with teeth. Or with an extra nipple (in Romania); or a lack of cartilage in the nose, or a split lower lip (in Russia).

The belief in vampires stems from superstition and mistaken assumptions about postmortem decay. The first recorded accounts of vampires follow a consistent pattern. Some unexplained misfortune befalls a person, family or town—a drought, disease—and then it’s blamed on a vampire.

The solution? Graves were unearthed, and surprised villagers often mistook ordinary decomposition processes for supernatural phenomenon. They assumed that a body would decompose immediately, but if the coffin is well sealed and buried in winter, putrefaction might be delayed by weeks or months; the body shrinks, making it look as if the nails and hair continue to grow. And weirdest of all to medieval people, intestinal decomposition creates bloating which can force blood up into the mouth, making it look like a dead body has recently sucked blood. In certain eastern block countries, they still believe this.

Many people in medieval England thought that corpses of evil or vengeful individuals were capable of “reanimating” in the ground and then rising from their graves to attack or harm or even kill the living. Historical accounts from Britain, Ireland, and Scotland tell of fear of revenants and blood-sucking.

A 12th-century Yorkshire cleric, William of Newburgh, described an evil man, who, escaping from justice, fled the city of York, but then died and rose from his grave. Pursued by a pack of barking dogs, he wandered through courtyards and houses while everyone locked their doors. Finally, the townspeople decided to put an end to the threat by digging up his dead body, mutilating it and burning it. This is Newburgh’s account of what happened when the townspeople opened the grave:

[They] laid bare the corpse, swollen to an enormous corpulence, with its countenance beyond measure turgid and suffused with blood. 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…

Zombies in long-deserted medieval Yorkshire village
Now—on to zombies. They are very closely related and can just as easily be called “revenants” as well. We see an emergence in our popular culture of zombies, but it originated from Haitian/African folklore, with the word “Zombi” being of West African origin. A witch doctor turns dead and living people into zombies. The belief in zombies in Haiti and certain places in Africa still persists today, the belief in either reanimating the dead or controlling living people to do their bidding in a perpetually dazed state.

Bringing it back to Europe, scientists from the University of Southampton completed a study of human bones from a long-deserted medieval Yorkshire village, Wharram Percy, and the study strongly suggests that they were from individuals regarded by their peers as revenants. The scientific analysis revealed that the individuals’ skeletal remains had been deliberately mutilated, decapitated and burned shortly after death. It is the first time in Britain that such skeletal evidence of a probable medieval belief in revenancy has been found. The work in Wharram Percy carried out on 11th- to 13th-century human bones is particularly important because it appears to confirm historical accounts of such beliefs.

There have been other skeletons found in eastern Europe with stones embedded in the mouths of the corpse, presumably to keep them from wandering. I guess it worked, because the bodies were still there.

Crispin and Jack must put aside their fears and superstitions to find out what’s really happening in the graveyard of St. Modwen’s parish and solve two murders before an innocent child hangs for the crime.

*****

A big thanks to Jeri Westerson!

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The Winner of A Maiden Weeping

Posted on August 9, 2016 by suzanneadairAugust 9, 2016

Lori Thomas has won a copy of A Maiden Weeping by Jeri Westerson. Congrats to Lori Thomas!

Thanks to Jeri Westerson for setting the record straight about lawlessness in England during the Middle Ages. Thanks, also, to everyone who visited and commented on Relevant History this week. Watch for another Relevant History post, coming soon.

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Did you like what you read? Learn about downloads, discounts, and special offers from Relevant History authors and Suzanne Adair. Subscribe to Suzanne’s free newsletter.

Lawlessness in the Middle Ages

Posted on August 2, 2016 by suzanneadairAugust 2, 2016

Jeri Westerson author photo Relevant History welcomes back Los Angeles native and award-winning author Jeri Westerson, who writes the critically acclaimed Crispin Guest Medieval Noir Mysteries, historical novels, paranormal novels, and LGBT mysteries. To-date, her medieval mysteries have garnered twelve industry award nominations, from the Agatha to the Shamus. Jeri is the former president of the SoCal chapter of Mystery Writers of America, former vice president of Sisters in Crime Los Angeles, and frequently guest lectures on medieval history at local colleges and museums. To learn more about her and her books, visit her web site, and follow her on Facebook and Twitter.

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The image is this: Pitchfork and torch wielding peasants; unbridled thievery on the streets; outlaws stalking the woods. Is this your idea of crime in the Middle Ages? For many it is. But how accurate is this?

Writing my medieval mysteries requires researching crime and punishment in that time period. It’s a thick field to winnow. But we are fortunate indeed that many court records of the period survive. The English loved their jurisprudence. In fact, many of the law terms we use today come down to us from medieval times. And it was never a simple case of “off with his head” or throw him in jail for a spot of torture. The law was as formal then as it is now. And terms were spelled out.

Spelling out murder
In the twelfth century, two kinds of murder were identified: Murdrum was a slaying done in secret, where the victim is taken unaware and could not retaliate. The other was simplex homicidium or simple homicide, a killing that was not planned or one that was accidental.

The term was stretched further to a third category: slaying in hot blood—a duel, or protecting the honor of one’s marriage—as “manslaughter.”

It is interesting to note that of the two hundred cases of homicide brought to the infamous Newgate prison in the period 1281-90, a verdict of guilty was returned only 21 percent of the time. Did this mean that the perpetrators were not guilty as charged? In some instances, bribery might get you out of hot water, and, of course, the higher up in rank you were, the better your chances of getting off. That is not to say that being a nobleman was a get-out-of-gaol-free card. Not always. If the crime was particularly heinous you might not be found innocent or even obtain a pardon by the king.

As far as juries were concerned, there seemed to be some argument about getting petty jurors from the neighborhood of the accused or getting them from farther afield. But when it seemed that more convictions were to be had from local jurors who might have known the accused, then that became the preference, truly a jury of your peers.

In the late fourteenth century, juries consisted of petty jurors, twenty-four knights or “other proven and law-worthy men who were not related to the subjects.” Many petty jurors were poor men, serving for payment and essentially shanghaied into the affair by the sheriffs.

There would be no Perry Mason moments at the trial. Witnesses rarely spoke at the trial itself, having given their testimony earlier to the Coroner or his clerks. The accused could challenge certain jurors, charging that they did not want them to sit on their jury.

And what did lawyers do? You had no right to an attorney then, but if you could afford one, he could certainly instruct you on how to argue your innocence, for it was up to you to speak up. Silence was construed as guilt.

The peasants are revolting
What you did have was a set of rules and procedures. Certainly there was lawlessness, but there was a citizen’s love of order as well. Were the peasants revolting (no jokes, please)? On occasion, and famously so. Wat Tyler rebelled against the low wages and high taxes imposed on the working man in 1381. It was one of King Richard II’s early challenges in his reign, and he met with Tyler in an open field to discuss the terms. Tyler was subsequently ambushed and the rebellion was brought down, and one is free to speculate whether Richard dealt unfairly with him or was wily as any king should be.

What about those scary woods? It certainly wasn’t wise to travel alone outside the city walls. If you went on a pilgrimage or to a market town, you generally traveled with a group, because it was true that outlaws menaced the forests, and travelers could fall prey to them.

But were cities and villages more lawless than we are now? I would argue against that prognosis. Even with the ultimate punishment of death for many petty crimes, crime did not cease to exist. People were as desperate then as they are now. My novels are set about forty years after the Black Death swept over Europe and took a third of the population. Many depravations followed. Imagine a third of the workforce suddenly missing. A third of farmers; a third of sheepherders and wool traders; a third of craftsmen and other tradesmen; a third of fishermen and apprentices. It took a long time for economic recovery and in the meantime, burglary, robbery, and murder increased. But after a time of economic recovery, these crimes did decrease.

When events happened so long ago, it is human nature to attribute a certain level of uncivilized behavior as compared with those in modern times. But though we might have a difficult time understanding the mores and culture of a bygone era, human nature and the same petty grievances haven’t changed all that much. Which is why a medieval mystery, while set long ago, can resonate with readers today.

For further reading (and I warn you, most of it is pretty dry), try the following:

o The Criminal Trial in Later Medieval England, J. G. Bellamy
o Public Order and Law Enforcement: The Local Administration of Criminal Justice, 1294-1350, Anthony Musson
o Crime and Conflict in English Communities, 1300-1348, Barbara A. Hanawalt
o Crime and Public Order in England in the Later Middle Ages, John Bellamy
o Verdict According to Conscience: Perspectives on the English Criminal Trial Jury, 1200-1800, Thomas Andrew Green

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A Maiden Weeping book cover A big thanks to Jeri Westerson. She’ll give away an ebook of A Maiden Weeping to someone who contributes a comment on my blog this week. I’ll choose the winner from among those who comment by Friday at 6 p.m. ET. Delivery is available worldwide.

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Did you like what you read? Learn about downloads, discounts, and special offers from Relevant History authors and Suzanne Adair. Subscribe to Suzanne’s free newsletter.

How Come We Can’t Get Away From Anne Boleyn?

Posted on June 16, 2015 by suzanneadairJune 16, 2015

Relevant History welcomes back Los Angeles native and award-winning author Jeri Westerson. She writes the critically acclaimed Crispin Guest Medieval Noir mysteries, historical novels, paranormal novels, and GLBT mysteries. To date, her medieval mysteries have garnered twelve industry award nominations. The Historical Novel Society Review said of her latest historical novel Roses in the Tempest, “It is a wonderful, utterly involving performance—very strongly recommended.” Jeri is former president of the SoCal chapter of Mystery Writers of America and frequently guest lectures on medieval history at local colleges and museums. To learn about Jeri’s books and find discussion guides, videos, and more, check out her web site.

*****

I think whenever anyone hears the name “Tudor” we think of two things: Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn.

Anne, Anne, Anne. I’m a little sick of her, but no one else seems to be. Why is she so important to the story of Henry VIII (who had four more wives after her)? And why is she important to my newly released novel of historical fiction Roses in the Tempest?

Let’s back up a bit to Prince Arthur Tudor. He was the elder brother to Henry VIII, slated to be King Arthur. Way back in 1497 he was betrothed—by proxy—to one Katherine of Aragon of Spain. The reason it was by proxy was because he and his betrothed were too young, but a treaty between England and Spain was desired by monarchs of both countries and so the kids were connected early on. They even had a wedding by proxy because they didn’t meet until October of 1501 when it was deemed they were finally old enough to get married in the flesh.

The deed was done and not long thereafter, Arthur fell ill. In fact, he died short of his 16th birthday.

Now enter the young Henry. Suddenly, he’s heir to the throne. And elder King Henry didn’t want all that dowry money to go back to Spain so he insisted on young Henry marrying his sister-in-law. But when Henry turned 14 he said no!

In 1509 at the ripe old age of eighteen, Henry succeeded to the throne of England. And he looked at his accounting books and decided that thousands of pounds worth of dowry was probably a good thing to have when starting a reign, not to mention keeping the Spanish treaties intact. But this was his brother’s widow. Didn’t he need papal dispensation to marry her? It’s just a little bit incesty. But the pope said no problem. You only need a dispensation if the marriage was consummated, and Katherine swore devoutly that it was not. She and Arthur were 15 years old and married for twenty weeks but didn’t consummate their legal marriage. Well, there’s this bridge I’d like to sell you, too.

“There is no more lovely, friendly and charming a relationship, communion or company than a good marriage.” –Martin Luther, 1569
Henry and Katherine were happy in the beginning. But it soon turned sour. She gave birth to a stillborn girl, then she gave birth to a boy, Henry, but he died after seven weeks. Then she gave birth to the Princess Mary (who was to become Queen Mary I, otherwise known as “Bloody Mary.”) During this time, Henry was catting around with all sorts of women. But he was also a devout Catholic. So much so that in 1521 he wrote his “Defense of the Seven Sacraments” a direct argument against the protestant reforms of Martin Luther. Pope Leo X named Henry “Defender of the Faith” for that bestseller.

But by 1525, Henry was getting impatient for a legitimate male heir and certain courtiers were beginning to whisper in his ear—courtiers like Cardinal Wolsey and his secretary the commoner Thomas Cromwell. Leviticus 20:21 says that “if a man shall take his brother’s wife it is an unclean thing: they shall be childless.” Though Henry was far from childless, he preferred to interpret the text to mean “sonless.” On this basis, Wolsey sought an annulment. The pope said nope.

Henry was getting all excited that this would work, that he could divorce his wife and marry—wait for it—Anne Boleyn, with whom he had been carrying on a chaste affair after having a not-so-chaste affair with Anne’s sister Mary (talk about incesty) who gave birth to yet another dead child. He got pretty pissed off with Wolsey, trumped up some charges, had him arrested, took over his just-finished manor house estate (that became Hampton Court) and was ready to put him on trial when he had the decency to die before that. Now Cromwell moved up and still had the king’s ear.

“The less prudent the prince the more his deeds oppress.” –Proverbs 28:16
Cromwell’s plan was to reform the Church, and since the pope wasn’t cooperating with Henry’s need for this divorce, why not break away from the Church of old and reform it into the Church of England? And who but the monarch was fit to rule that? Henry then gave himself a divorce, declared his daughter a bastard, and married Anne Boleyn, who, after all that, didn’t give him the son he wanted, but another princess, Elizabeth.

Henry’s taking over the province of the Church in England meant that he could get rid of all those corrupted and wealthy monasteries where all that expensive land was just sitting there when instead it could be sold and the revenue fill his coffers. And so that’s what he did. Cromwell was in charge of collecting officers with the cover story that they were inspecting the monasteries to root out corruption…but while they were there, they took an inventory of all the goods, too.

And that’s how Anne Boleyn becomes an intimate part of my story. The two main protagonists—Thomas Giffard, a knight of the court, and Isabella Launder the daughter of a yeoman farmer, who becomes a prioress in a tiny priory, two people that really did exist—are imminently affected by events at court. I thought it was a story seldom told, what happens when the rich and powerful make their decisions and how it trickles down the line. It makes my novel unique in that we get a glimpse of court and its machinations, but spend equal time down and dirty in the trenches. And though there are sad moments, it is not a sad tale. For because this is a true tale of real people, there is a dusting off of hands, a rising up, and stoically going on.

*****

A big thanks to Jeri Westerson. She’ll give away a paperback or ebook copy of Roses in the Tempest to someone who contributes a comment on my blog this week. I’ll choose the winner from among those who comment by Friday at 6 p.m. ET. Delivery is available worldwide.

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Did you like what you read? Learn about downloads, discounts, and special offers from Relevant History authors and Suzanne Adair. Subscribe to Suzanne’s free newsletter.

The Winner of Cup of Blood

Posted on August 17, 2014 by suzanneadairAugust 17, 2014

Norma Huss has won a copy of Cup of Blood by Jeri Westerson. Congrats to Norma Huss!

Thanks to Jeri Westerson for the engaging discussion about legends surrounding Christ’s blood and other holy relics. Thanks, also, to everyone who visited and commented on Relevant History this week. Watch for another Relevant History post, coming soon.

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Did you like what you read? Learn about downloads, discounts, and special offers from Relevant History authors and Suzanne Adair. Subscribe to Suzanne’s free newsletter.

Bloody Good Relics

Posted on August 5, 2014 by suzanneadairAugust 4, 2014

Relevant History welcomes back L.A. native Jeri Westerson, who combined the medieval with the hard-boiled and came up with her own brand of medieval mystery she calls “Medieval Noir.” Her brooding protagonist, Crispin Guest, is a disgraced knight turned detective on the mean streets of fourteenth century London. Jeri’s novels have been shortlisted for a variety of industry awards, from the Agatha to the Shamus. She is president of the Southern California chapter of Mystery Writers of America, and speaks all over the southland about medieval history, including as a guest lecturer at the Bowers Museum in Santa Ana and Mt. San Antonio College in Walnut, CA. To learn more about Jeri’s books, watch a series book trailer, find discussion guides, and read Crispin’s blog, check out Jeri’s website. Friend Jeri on Facebook, and follow her on Twitter and Goodreads.

*****

My medieval mysteries always involve a religious relic or venerated object. And so part of my job is to explore relics and make the mythical real. Some of my “favorite” relics (in that they get a lot of attention) are the blood relics. My protagonist Crispin Guest, a disgraced knight turned detective, has a favorite oath: “God’s blood!” Yes, in the medieval period, swearing took on a whole different quality. But it is “God’s blood” and that of his saints that we want to explore.

Holy grail, Batman!
Joseph of Arimathea plays an important role in most Christ blood relics, either capturing the blood and sweat in a cup while Jesus hung on the cross (and here is where the complicated grail history begins and what we see in Cup of Blood, my latest medieval mystery, released 25 July 2014) or later keeping some as he cleaned the body before burial.

I must first explain the unlikelihood of such an event from the Jewish Pharisee that Joseph was. Surely he was aware of the blood prohibitions, of touching blood and bodies that would make him unclean to enter the temple. This would be a horrific situation for a priest of the temple, his being unable to enter it until he underwent many days of ritual bathing before he was declared clean again. The thought of even saving blood must have been completely foreign. But let us, for the sake of argument, assume that Joseph—for whatever reason—had the idea to preserve some of Jesus’ blood. What did he do with it from there?

If we were to follow the grail legend, then we would end up at Glastonbury in the southwest region of England, which gave rise to its co-mingling with the Arthurian legends (a complicated cross-pollination from the stories commissioned by Marie of France, Countess of Champagne and daughter of Eleanor of Aquitaine in the twelfth century to include a love triangle. She had Chretien de Troyes, her court poet, invent Lancelot. Chretien also wrote the unfinished poem Perceval le Gallois, the keeper of the grail—and it only gets more convoluted from there).

The bloodier the better
But if we were to follow other blood legends, we might end up in Constantinople. During the fourth crusade it is said that the Holy Blood of Christ made its way from Constantinople to the Basilius chapel in Bruges on 7 April 1150. The relic consists of coagulated blood kept in a 12th century style rock-crystal flask. Since 1303, the relic was carried around the city walls in procession, called the Holy Blood Procession, which is still celebrated today.

Westminster Abbey was presented with Christ’s blood by King Henry III of England on 3 October 1247, that the king had received from the Masters of the Knights Templars and Hospitallers and the patriarch of Jerusalem. It was encased in a crystal vase. The Bishop of Norwich preached a sermon, promising an indulgence of six years and one hundred and sixteen days to anyone who venerated the relic (that is, six years and one hundred and sixteen days less in Purgatory). Unfortunately, it never made Westminster the pilgrim stop that Henry had desired. In fact, it was not lost on the populace that Henry was desperately trying to compete with the French king who a year later, dedicated his Sainte Chapelle with relics from the holy land, among them the Crown of Thorns, the Holy Lance, a portion of the sponge soaked with vinegar, purple vestments with which Jesus was mocked, and a sepulchral stone. In Hailes Abbey, not too far from Westminster, larger crowds came to see their vial of Christ’s blood. But when Hailes’ blood was scrutinized in the 16th century by Henry VIII’s examiners, it was reported that the vial consisted of not Christ’s blood but of honey mixed with saffron coloring. Yet another account says it contained oft-replaced goose blood. Whatever was in it, this vial, along with the one at Westminster, was disposed of by the Reformation’s agents.

Bleeding out
One of the more famous blood relics belongs to Saint Januarius or as he is known in Italy, San Gennaro. Born in Naples in 300 AD, he was a Bishop of Beneveto around the time of Emperor Diocletian, who was particularly nasty to Christians. While offering spiritual support to imprisoned fellow Christians, Januarius was himself arrested. The prelate, Timoteo, put Januarius through several gruesome tortures—thrown into a furnace, tried to tear his limbs apart on the wheel—but he seemed to come out of them unscathed. Finally, Januarius and his fellow prisoners were condemned to be torn apart by wild beasts. When this also proved useless, Timoteo ordered Januarius to be beheaded.

Januarius’ old wet-nurse Eusebia, gathered his blood into vials, and his body and head were wrapped and hidden until the time that Christianity was no longer persecuted. Eusebia was now free to display the glass vials of the martyr’s dried blood, and for the first time, they became liquid. Januarius was one of the many honored saints in Italy for many centuries, but there is no mention of his blood or it’s “liquefaction” until 1389. By then his skull and blood had come to rest at the Real Cappella del Tesoro di San Gennaro, located near Pozzuoli. And to this day, on 19 September, the feast day of Saint Januarius, his blood relics are displayed with much praying, novenas, and other celebrations. If the blood liquefies, it is signaled by the firing off of cannons.

Certainly in Crispin’s era of the late fourteenth century, such things were well venerated. And much money could be made for the church or monastery that housed such a relic, paid by the pilgrims who came to see them. No wonder my detective remains skeptical as to the authenticity of such objects. And that, and a few murders, keeps him embroiled deeply in the mysteries.

*****

A big thanks to Jeri Westerson. She’ll give away a trade paperback copy of Cup of Blood to someone who contributes a comment on my blog this week. I’ll choose the winner from among those who comment by Friday at 6 p.m. ET. Delivery is available within the U.S. only.

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Did you like what you read? Learn about downloads, discounts, and special offers from Relevant History authors and Suzanne Adair. Subscribe to Suzanne’s free newsletter.

The Winner of Shadow of the Alchemist

Posted on December 17, 2013 by suzanneadairDecember 17, 2013

Michele Drier has won a copy of Shadow of the Alchemist by Jeri Westerson. Congrats to Michele Drier!

Thanks to Jeri Westerson for offering insight on the contribution of alchemists to modern science. Thanks, also, to everyone who visited and commented on Relevant History this week. Watch for another Relevant History post, coming soon.

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Crispin vs the Alchemist

Posted on December 12, 2013 by suzanneadairDecember 12, 2013

Relevant History welcomes back Los Angeles native and award-winning author Jeri Westerson, who writes the critically acclaimed Crispin Guest Medieval Noir mysteries. Her brooding protagonist is Crispin Guest, a disgraced knight turned detective on the mean streets of fourteenth-century London. Jeri is president of the southern California chapter of Mystery Writers of America and is vice president of the Los Angeles chapter of Sisters in Crime. When not writing, she dabbles in gourmet cooking, drinks fine wines, eats cheap chocolate, and swoons over anything British. You can learn more about Jeri’s books, watch a series book trailer, and find discussion guides on Jeri’s website. For more information, read her blog, friend Jeri on Facebook, and follow her on Twitter and Goodreads.

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My sixth Crispin Guest medieval noir, Shadow of the Alchemist, has hit the bookstore shelves. Crispin, my disgraced knight turned detective on the mean streets of fourteenth-century London, has faced many foes, dealing with many religious relics and venerated objects. Each object seems to possess a power of its own, either something everyone wants to get their hands on, or can’t wait to get rid of. A Veronica’s veil, Crown of Thorns, the Spear of Destiny, and now the Philosopher’s Stone. Crispin doesn’t believe in the power of these mortal objects, preferring his intellect to the suspicious ramblings of priests and frightened and greedy merchants. But there is something about these objects, something that gives him pause.

Men of power have tried to thwart him, either wealthy merchants, noblemen, or lowly servants. Crispin has seen them all. But this time, he comes up against his Moriarty of sorts, involving a chase down the shadowy streets of London, between men who know the secrets of poisons and purges, sorcery and forbidden sciences. An alchemist.

There are many challenges for the author when writing historically. First and foremost is the contract the author has with her readers. That is, the history must be true and correct. Only with this solid framework in place may the author hang her fiction upon it. Without the proscenium of real history, there is no reason for the reader to stick around and dally in the rest of the play on offer. So a worthy foe for Crispin must be a man of his time. He’s had his share of noblemen to cross swords and wits with. He was once a nobleman himself and so to clash with those he used to know works well. But this time, I thought it would be fun to set him up against an alchemist, those medieval scientists whose lives and works were a mystery to those around them.

We have a perception of the alchemist, of the medieval equivalent of the mad scientist. And we have it also from the time period itself. In Geoffrey Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales, for instance, Chaucer gives us the Canon’s Yeoman’s Tale, from which we can derive that many alchemists were deemed to be charlatans. And no doubt, many were, the precursor to the snake oil salesman. And yet many were also quite sincere in their doings. They were truly the first scientists, truly trying to understand the chemistry around us and doing experiments rather than relying on the faith of philosophers of the past. The Greek philosophers influenced physicians in the medieval period with their conclusions of the human body and its cures—without ever picking up a pipette and seeing if any of those conclusions actually possessed a basis in fact.

We do know of some alchemists of the past: Paracelsus was a scholar and alchemist from the fifteenth century, and the embodiment of what we will later call “scientist.” Among his many accomplishments: he founded the discipline of toxicology; insisted upon using observation rather than merely relying on the word of the philosophers of the past; coined the terms “zinc,” “chemistry,” “alcohol,” and “gas”; and even delved into psychology by daring to suggest some illnesses were caused by the mind.

Michał Sędziwój was a Polish alchemist and medical doctor from the seventeenth century. One of his greatest accomplishments was discovering that air is not a single substance but in fact is made up of many, one being what would later be called oxygen.

Even Sir Isaac Newton dabbled in alchemy. He believed that metals possessed an inner life of their own and tried in vain—much to the embarrassment of some of his colleagues—to create a Philosopher’s Stone.

These varied men led the way to a better understanding—and a better method to understand—the world around us. Such men, with the wrong intent, can be very dangerous. And so in a dark and dangerous London, an alchemist is on the loose who would do anything to get what he wants. A Napoleon of Crime? Perhaps. It’s up to our hero to bring him to justice one way or another.

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A big thanks to Jeri Westerson. Shadow of the Alchemist was named to Suspense Magazine’s “Best of 2013” list and was nominated for the RT Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best Historical Mystery. Jeri will give away the hardcover version of Shadow of the Alchemist to someone who contributes a comment on my blog this week. I’ll choose the winner from among those who comment by Monday at 6 p.m. ET. Delivery is available within the U.S. only.

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18th-century Favorite Things: A HOSTAGE TO HERITAGE, Book Tour Stop 9

Posted on May 1, 2013 by AdminOctober 20, 2013

Why do I spend so much time in the past? I have my reasons—and fortunately I’m not the only woman crime fiction author who indulges in historical settings. Stop by the blog of medieval mystery author Jeri Westerson today to find out some of the things I enjoy about 18th-century America. Thanks!

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Did you like what you read? Learn about downloads, discounts, and special offers from Relevant History authors and Suzanne Adair. Subscribe to Suzanne’s free newsletter.