Be honest, who does not love the stories of Atlantis or Brigadoon or any other disappearing and disappeared world? World mysteries have always fascinated me, wondering what people imagined from these lost communities and - even more so - what they wanted them to be and represent. The Destruction of Ravenser Odd I stumbled across the history of Ravenser Odd entirely by chance. But what a chance! Here was a setting for a story, one which was almost Biblical in its existence and destruction. Unlike Dunwich, which gradually succumbed to the sea, Ravenser Odd was swallowed in a very short space of time, the final straw coming in The Great Drowning of Men on Saint Marcellus' Day 1362. As well as this, the town was in the Humber, an area with which I was very familiar, having lived in Barrow-upon-Humber for ten years and being an alumnus of Hull University. Could there be a better setting for a historical fiction tale which was to be laced with horror? Well, I didn't think so. The
The second novel I ever finished - and still is nowhere near publishing standard! - was about two dragoons in the Crimean War. It fits in with my Family Saga through a certain Colonel Josiah Tenterchilt, but the plot really focuses on the two younger officers. It became apparent as I wrote it, that the relationship between these cavalrymen and their horses were as significant as any they shared with other people. A little research soon revealed that it was Drummer Boy, an equine part of the fateful Charge of the Light Brigade (ridden by Lt Col de Salis of the 8th Hussars), who was the first animal in the British Army to receive a war medal. How strange that it took until 1854 for these service animals to be fully recognised. Of the 700 horses involved, less than 200 returned. But this provided me with all the inspiration I needed to explore the love and appreciation between cavalrymen and their steeds, and so I began to explore the fascinating bond between man and beast.
“Albert has trained him to commands,” Montgomery replied. “He follows orders like a dog.”
“Or a soldier,” Colonel Tenterchilt added, a twinkle of merriment appearing in his eye. “He sounds to be quite a horseman, your friend.”
Montgomery began riding up the road towards the edge of the city, Black Thunder pleased to be leaving the confines of the ruins behind. “He is the finest horseman I have ever met, sir. He is in the army for that reason alone.”
“Then both of you are as misplaced as one another.”
“What do you mean, sir?”
“These ranks are full of men who are fleeing from a life or running toward another. That is no way to fight an enemy.” The colonel looked across at Montgomery who met his gaze sternly. “Men should join the army to defend what they love, not to leave what they hate.”
From that moment on, I decided that all my books would have animals in them, and this blog is an introduction to some of them...
The Animals of the Tenterchilt Family
During the course of six books over the best part of 100 years, there are several animals who brush shoulders with the family. The very first one appears in the first instalment, Beneath Black Clouds and White. Little Gulliver arrived in the book with all the love and trauma of when we got Orlando. It was easy to write a spaniel puppy, because my own was still fresh in my memory. And, when I was writing Blind Folly of the Heart (which is set 20 years later) it was time to give the next generation a spaniel pup of their own, so Genevieve came along.
Gulliver had an extra role to simply being a token animal. The way in which a person relates to an animal says a great deal about them, and visa versa. So poor Mrs Tenterchilt, who is on the verge of despairing where her youngest daughter's behaviour is concerned, has finally found Catherine a companion.
“My uncle does. But they stay in the kennels.”
“I think the children and I are the only ones who are pleased to have Gulliver in the house. The major wanted him in a kennel, but he is the only thing that calms Catherine, our youngest daughter.”
Catherine later goes on to have her own horse, steal her sister's, and even gets a pet monkey called Columbus. All this while her husband's only appreciation of animals stretches as far as recruiting mousers. Still, opposites attract!
There is an assumption that everyone rode in the early nineteenth century. This isn't true. A good many people walked places, and even those who could ride would still walk too. But, if you were travelling long distances from town to town, horses were still the main mode of transport - either being ridden or, more usually, attached to a cart, coach, or carriage. Later, as I mentioned at the start of the blog, horses would become companions to the point of friendship for the cavalrymen of the family.
The Animals of Caledon
Looking at the animals, both domestic and wild, of northern Scotland in the mid-seventeenth century is like researching an entirely lost existence. No matter how much we try to recapture life in that time and place, the natural history of the Highlands has been changed beyond measure, culminating with the horrendous Year of the Sheep. But, in books, we can head back to those times, when the kye were brought out each day, and hill sheep were not even a consideration. A shepherd was responsible for a flock, and their neglect could be fatal.
“What who did?” he whispered.
“Those crows.”
Donald looked into her arms and felt disgusted as he saw a lamb with blood spilling down its face from where the crows had taken its eyes. It bleated and wriggled in his sister’s arms and she sat down on the floor with it. Kneeling down, Donnie stroked its soft woolly coat.
“They are monsters,” Mary continued.
“Why do they do it?”
“They single out the weakest and gentlest. Then they blind them so they can’t find the rest of the flock.”
“Won’t the flock come looking for them?”
“Not after this. They know the lamb will die.” She looked up and met her brother’s gaze. “Once the crows have started their business, no one is interested in saving them. And the crows will stop at nothing to fill their stomachs.”
Donnie recalled with a sickening remembrance what the outcome had been for the young lamb so many years ago, for he and his sister had been unable to save it and the crows had returned some days later. He rose to his feet and lifted his hand to his black hair as he felt something heavy fall on his head. He gave a cry as his fingers closed on the silky feathers of a bird, and he realised with a horrible sickening feeling that it was a crow.
Of course, in the realms of Historical Fantasy, this dream means so much more!
And Caledon does not only feature the domestic animals of that day and age. It also includes the Eile: six creatures of a less tangible existence. In each one is reflected a certain trait, one which is embodied as much in the animal as in the person. The Eile are:
- Nobility - Stag
- Power - Sea Serpent
- Stealth - Pine Marten
- Strength - Wolf
- Wisdom - Raven
- Zeal - Wildcat
Here's a little video which details them all:
There are links here to aspects of mythology, of course, and it is no coincidence that a great number of Scottish legends are linked to animals. Look at kelpies, or selkies, or - of course - the loch ness monster! The Raven Banner had the ability to give victory at the expense of the standard bearer's life, an important analogy to the use of wisdom, which the raven represents in Caledon. And then there's the famous image of the Monarch of the Glen - no finer example of nobility!
The Animals of The Year We Lived
And talking about mythology...!
There are two significant animals in The Year We Lived. One of these is the robin, an emblem of love and life. Bird lore was a significant part of Saxon culture. Many of the chronicles make reference to birds and the omens or meanings they might carry. But the robin, native to Normandy too, has so much mythology linked to it that it was too good an opportunity to pass up on.
At the time, the ability to tame birds was linked to the superstitions that a person was communicating with them, and this gave rise to the exploration into the roles of both Dunstan (the Changeling) and Alan (the Fool). The reader is welcome to decide how much communication they actually share and how much is for show or through a willingness to believe.
“It is a robin,” Alan said, watching as she scanned the surroundings to try and find it. “They are fearsome birds, always seeking fights to protect their own.”
“They are beautiful,” Edith whispered. “They don’t fear the snow, for they have fire in their chests.”
Alan lowered the bucket back into the well and took the pitcher from her hands, guiding her back up to the doors of the Hall once more. “They’re red all over, but wear a masked cowl and cloak to disguise them from unwanted eyes.”
“And so may pass where they want to,” she sighed.
Other stories are told about the robin during the course of the book, and the feisty bird continues to be a link between Edith and Dunstan as they remain geographically parted.
The other animal who makes a significant contribution to the story is the White Hart. Every so often, nature throws this creature into the mix. It is not the same as an albino, as it is not void of all pigmentation, but has a different colour hide. Traditionally, this beast - like all deer in Norman times - could only be hunted by the king or those invited to join him.
In pre-conquest Britain, the White Hart could mean different things. Celtic cultures had it as a warning against an impending transgression, while in Arthurian legends it was a symbol of questing and spiritual journeying. Pagan beliefs linked it to Herne the Hunter, while Christianity entwined it with Saint Hubertus: Patron Saint of Hunters. The Year We Lived pieces all of these together to create the white hart into an adventure of its own.
He never took his eyes from the deer, but it faded into the mist, its glow subsiding. Dunstan stared so hard after it, his eyes seemed to see every drop of moisture in the fog. Gradually, the specks merged together and bound into a man. It was the man he had followed, and he felt afraid for a moment as the figure strode out of the mist. He towered over where the changeling lay on the ground. His hand carried the biggest bow Dunstan had ever seen and his shoulders were weighed down by warm skins. Hoping this stranger would pass him by unnoticed, Dunstan crawled away, but stopped as the figure knelt beside him.
“You saw the stag?”
He turned back to look into the newcomer’s face and gasped as he recognised the features.
“Robert?”
“Dunstan?” the other man said, quickly pulling the skin coat from his shoulders and wrapping it around his trembling companion. “What are you doing?”
“Following you. And yes, I did see it.”
“I had a mind to kill it tonight,” Robert whispered, shame seeping into his voice.
“It wants you to find it. But not for that. Not everyone sees it, you know? It’s not wholly of this world. It will guide us.”
There are other animals in the book, too. Hunting hounds, horses, and hawks, as well as all the creatures which Dunstan gathers to him! But the robin and the white hart are examples of the full depth of Saxon and Norman mythology.
And then...
It's not only my historical writing which draws on the importance of animals. How we connect with animals, on both a spiritual superstitious level as well as in a caring affection, defines us as individuals. Whether it's a love of nature or a pet (a bird, a mammal, a fish... the list goes on), interaction with different species helps to develop characters. And characters - just like real people - often learn as much about themselves through these relationships as they do from their relationships with other humans.
After all, most children have a favourite animal before they have a favourite anything else!
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