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We Speak No Treason
We Speak No Treason
Richard of Gloucester, brother of Edward IV and the unfortunate Clarence, is no physical grotesque as Shakespeare or the Tudors would have him. Among the characters in this historical novel who witness a lean Richard in the buff is a gently reared lass attached to the Woodville household; she bears him a daughter and loves him her life long. Her narratives carry the bulk of the tale. But two other intimate portraits are provided by a court fool and a soldier who served Richard as Duke and King. It is the fool who discovers Warwick's distraught daughter Anne who will become Richard's devoted wife; and the soldier is privy to Richard's royal anguish in the last years of personal loss, treason, and his death on the field. Throughout Richard is fair, courageous, loyal and attractive. One may wink at his thunderstruck reception of the "news" of the young Princes' "illegitimacy" which enabled him to take the throne after Edward's death (no word on complicity here). But in this version, the tower murder charge doesn't stick.
This edition of the book shares the same ISBN with "The King's Grey Mare" ISBN #0965005429, both from the same author and issued by the Book of the Month Club in 2000.
This edition of the book shares the same ISBN with "The King's Grey Mare" ISBN #0965005429, both from the same author and issued by the Book of the Month Club in 2000.
576 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1971
About the author
Rosemary Hawley Jarman
28 books33 followersRosemary Hawley Jarman is an English novelist and writer of short stories. She was born in Worcester April 27, 1935. She was educated first at Saint Mary's Convent and then at The Alice Ottley School, leaving at eighteen to study singing in London for the next three years, having developed a fine soprano voice.
Family circumstances prevented her from continuing in this direction and she worked for a time in local government. She was married to David Jarman in 1958 and divorced amicably in 1970. She lived most of her time in Worcestershire at Callow End, between Worcester and Upton on Severn. She began to write for pleasure, and followed a very real and valid obsession with the character of King Richard III (1452-1485 - reigned 1483-85).
With no thought of publication she completed a 228,000 word novel showing the King in his true colours, away from Tudor and Shakespearian propaganda. The book was taken up almost accidentally by an agent, and within six weeks a contract for publication and four other novels was signed with William Collins Publishers, (now Harper Collins).
The author has had short stories published in many magazines in the UK and France and has been a member of the Society of Authors since 1970. She has been dubbed "A Daughter of Mark Twain" by the Samuel Clemens Society in the U.S.A. for her services to literature.
She lived with the prize-winning author R. T. Plumb for eighteen years in a West Wales cottage. They married in September 2002, but the marriage was cut short after Roy died of cancer in October 2003. Jarman (now Mrs. Plumb) is herself recovering from lung cancer, and is writing in the Fantasy genre.
Family circumstances prevented her from continuing in this direction and she worked for a time in local government. She was married to David Jarman in 1958 and divorced amicably in 1970. She lived most of her time in Worcestershire at Callow End, between Worcester and Upton on Severn. She began to write for pleasure, and followed a very real and valid obsession with the character of King Richard III (1452-1485 - reigned 1483-85).
With no thought of publication she completed a 228,000 word novel showing the King in his true colours, away from Tudor and Shakespearian propaganda. The book was taken up almost accidentally by an agent, and within six weeks a contract for publication and four other novels was signed with William Collins Publishers, (now Harper Collins).
The author has had short stories published in many magazines in the UK and France and has been a member of the Society of Authors since 1970. She has been dubbed "A Daughter of Mark Twain" by the Samuel Clemens Society in the U.S.A. for her services to literature.
She lived with the prize-winning author R. T. Plumb for eighteen years in a West Wales cottage. They married in September 2002, but the marriage was cut short after Roy died of cancer in October 2003. Jarman (now Mrs. Plumb) is herself recovering from lung cancer, and is writing in the Fantasy genre.
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January 8, 2009
I read the second half of this book some time ago, being unable at that time to locate the first half (the book had been divided into two volumes.) Then I learned the joy of used book vendors and have in my possession the single book edition, like new, for less than the price when it was freshly published.
I have finished the whole of this book and am moved by the beauty of the writing and the psychological underpinning of the narration.
Of the four Books and the three speakers, I treasured the story of the Fool best. I have more in common with the Fool, can understand the context of his feelings better. With him I say "I live in past and present." But most of all, I am grateful this part of the story ends when it does and I am not forced to visit Bosworth Field again. I have spent too many restless nights re-living that last desperate charge down Ambion Hill.
I shall read this book again for the aesthetic satisfaction it provides in such abundance.
I have finished the whole of this book and am moved by the beauty of the writing and the psychological underpinning of the narration.
Of the four Books and the three speakers, I treasured the story of the Fool best. I have more in common with the Fool, can understand the context of his feelings better. With him I say "I live in past and present." But most of all, I am grateful this part of the story ends when it does and I am not forced to visit Bosworth Field again. I have spent too many restless nights re-living that last desperate charge down Ambion Hill.
I shall read this book again for the aesthetic satisfaction it provides in such abundance.
February 19, 2013
Because I sometimes have a tendency to borrow too many books from the library, it happens on occasion that I tire of keeping up with conflicting due dates and end up tossing the lot into a bag to haul them back, unread. Such was nearly the case with an older, non-slipcovered edition of Rosemary Hawley Jarman’s We Speak No Treason, a novel I’d ordered on recommendation, but didn’t remember as I was deciding my returns. I made to rid myself of this unknown book, thinking it a pity I was unaware of its content; it could be a rewarding read. Alas, could all the rest be, and so I sighed and continued with my task.
Something stayed my hand, however, and it actually hovered over the return pile as I hesitated and then finally withdrew, my curiosity unwilling to let go of what I might find between these covers.
*********
Curiosity in the Middle Ages could be a dangerous trait, as we see the characters here hover before even simple scenarios they know about or wish to know more of, perform secret observations, listen in on others’ conversations, purposefully or perchance. They, too, draw back, aware that even small choices could change the course of their lives while circumstances around them scheme to propel their destinies in other unknown manner.
The language of the tale is indeed magical yet ordinary. Many of the words we associate with medieval speech appear, and at first, perhaps, readers may perceive them as curious, though the mournful aura of the tale hangs heavier than unknown lexicon. This is perhaps especially as the deeper readers make their way into the telling, the lexicon begins to take on a more ordinary aspect. Words begin to be recognized as cousins to those we use today, their associations and nuances easily understood in the passages they inhabit. Jarman repeats them enough—in the manner people would in ordinary parlance—for us to become accustomed, while avoiding the heavy-handedness that sometimes traps medieval novels in stereotype, and she does with grace and variety, each character at times revealing his or her own patterns of speech.
Forbidden stories of King Richard III, We Speak No Treason is narrated by three who had been close to him though furthest now from any safe position to engage in such discussion: the Maiden, Richard’s former leman-turned-nun; the Fool, perilously serving under Henry Tudor following service to both Richard III and his elder brother, Edward IV; and the Man of Keen Sight, condemned to die for the crime of loyalty to his king, by way of Henry Tudor’s backdating his own reign.
We are led through the events of the years leading up to that terrible summer of 1485, which sees the slaughter of the last Plantagenet king at the hands of Henry Tudor’s impossibly outnumbered army. Treason aids the usurper, whose paranoia is so great that even in the age of Elizabeth I, his granddaughter, no Plantagenet association is too small to remove the threat of execution. Small wonder the characters, revealing to us their secrets in Henry’s time, are “diverters of necessity,” secret personal writings or whisper their tale despite an already appointed date with death.
One’s own choices do not always a destiny make, though sometimes they can seem to seal fates. The Maiden’s remembrances draw us into the tale, by way of a book she had written in and hidden for over sixteen years, knowing she should have set it ablaze long before. Like the garden she tends and loves as her own, she once knew Richard Gloucester and tended him in secret, away from the curious and prying eyes of such like Elysande, who shields her from their common mistress, Jacquetta of Bedford. Friendly with Elysande during the reign of Edward IV, she nevertheless lives within a “cold season,” as she does when telling her tale under Henry VII. For Jacquetta is the mother of Edward’s Queen Elizabeth, of the Woodvilles, Lancastrians whose enmity with Edward’s York branch of the Plantagenets is bitter and long lasting—and later allied with Tudor.
Elysande creates diversions for the lover she knows exists, though she is unaware until later this lover’s Plantagenet name. The Maiden is savvy enough to have created her own strategy to get herself to court with her mistress, but later falls victim to Jacquetta’s and the Queen’s dangerous fright when Edward is taken prisoner by his rebellious Warwick cousin. She is spared death, but packed of to a nunnery, being the only one aware that, as she journeys she “safeguard[s] one last small and secret joy. The royal child, the Plantagenet. The child of my beloved.”
The Maiden’s tale at this point is broken, and prior perusal of the book would indicate that her tale picks up again in the fourth section, “The Nun.” Not necessarily meant to be a surprise, for the Maiden herself references her nun status at the start, and modern readers have at least small awareness of medieval nunneries as a destination for widows and some women without means.
The baton thus passes to the Fool, and as we move deeper into his version of events, we begin to grasp the scope of Jarman’s skill in handling multiple narrators. Until now we have lived the Maiden’s tale with her in linear fashion, which may be the safest method but also the most effective given the sheer volume of detail. Familial relationships, names, events, rivalries, all this and more are referenced in a narrative that spans from the Maiden’s childhood, and prepares the reader for a slight shift in storytelling method as, fittingly, an actor takes the stage.
As such, the jester does not merely talk about disguisings; his life is lived as one. He “hides his wit behind idiocy and keeps a well-tuned ear,” talents that no doubt help ensure his survival under the reign of Henry Tudor. Moreover, Jarman’s technique with his storytelling reflects these methods he utilizes, giving the reader occasional pause to wonder under which King or moment the Fool now speaks. He tells of the Tudor’s paranoia manifest in a demand made after witnessing his mastiffs take on and kill a lion: ‘Hang them…Traitorous dogs shall not rise against a king.’
Piers—he reveals to us his name as well as internal conflict—nevertheless must at times strain to bear the load his lot in life has given him. “I live in past and present, then suddenly both come together with a fierce clash like an axe on armour and I am shaken into confusion[.]” He tends to confide in us some of the most horrific scenes at natural stopping points, or such when one must cease for the moment, the weight of his knowledge being too difficult to bear. We read these passages and then stop, the silence sitting with us as heavy as the terrible words preceding it. While talking about Anne’s pregnancy with the beloved Edward, Piers remembers Richard’s bastard son, and discusses at length the family’s living arrangement. John of Gloucester, he tells us, went to the block at age twenty, “brave Plantagenet. Traitorous dogs shall not rise against a King.”
If seeing so deftly into past and present while juggling to maintain a future is a curse as well as blessing, so too is there a downside to the acute vision possessed by the aptly named Man of Keen Sight, who, incidentally, meets briefly with Piers, who initially writes him off as a braggart.
However, it is so; the man has the ability to see into a long distance with greater acuity than most any other person. This aids greatly in his riding skills, but is “the archer’s enemy,” owing to the deficiency in spatial differentiation it causes. Perhaps akin to or presenting in conjunction with a proprioceptive disorder, it disorients the vision so receptors provide misinformation as to distance. “How,” the man asks, “can an archer study the nock and the unwavering hold when already the fat white cloud dangles close to his nose?”
Nonetheless, he develops technique to conquer this “useful fault” and it leads to riding with the Duke of Gloucester, whom he comes to love. The Man goes into exile with Richard, Dickon, who assigns him a pseudonym, “Mark Eye,” fitting for an archer and pleasing to the Man. He grows to love Dickon, and life, good, moves on.
It is not to last, however, as readers are aware from the time the Man is introduced by way of a penitent verse of "The Nut-Brown Maid", one of many sung to us through the course of the novel:
It standeth so; a deed is do
Whereof great harm shall grow;
My destiny is for to die
A shameful death, I trow.
Or else to flee, the t’one must be,
None other way I know
But to withdraw as an outlaw
And take me to my bow.
Wherefore adieu, my own heart true!
None other rede I can;
For I must to the greenwood go,
Alone, a banished man.
Indeed, we are privy from the start to the understanding that herein lies a condemned man, one even who hears the construction outside of his own gallows. Frequently, as he relays his story to us from his cell, he accepts defeat and fault. He condemns his actions, though not for having ridden at the last with King Richard, but rather for the shame that stayed with him for having neglected his friendship and duty to the king, indeed for having betrayed him by teaming up, cowardly-like, with those aiming to destroy Richard after King Edward’s death.
It is also he who receives the prophecy depicting the end of the Plantagenet line, and: “your King. . . the foot that strikes the stone shall turn into a head, and the bones tossed on a dunghill, to stink forever.” He tries to shake off memory of it, as he tried to dismiss it when it is first told him. But his ability to do fails, as increasingly does any sort of sight that may have aided him to perceive the darkness in men, as Richard himself comments upon, after regaining the upper hand from those who aim to thwart his protectorship: “How strange are the hearts of men!” That Richard chooses time and again to forgive those who seek to do him ill—or are too lazy or cowardly to protest such—provides a vision in itself, the “natural” consequences, some might say, of allowing those who seek his destruction to roam free.
If Richard possesses such a failing and declines to admit it, the Man does not. He speaks in hindsight of his acuity dimming and recalls grievously instances when, even then, he ought to have wondered. In moments such as these, again, the author weaves her own storytelling skills by presenting the same event from different perspectives—and how different they at times are! Comparison of the passages indicate clearly what is important to each teller, by way of what each highlights (or leaves out) as well as their brevity or length.
There is a sort of deja-vu to these scenes, ghostly almost, until readers realize in fact they have been here before.
"He summoned a sleepy young man to escort me back to the castle, one who had but lately come on duty, so that none should know, for the greenish dawn was rising over the fens and the camp would soon be stirring. He raised his hand to me as he stood between the tent-flaps, and there was a light about him that was not earthly; or it may have been their marsh fiends dimming their night-lamps behind him; I did not know."
[...]
"It was at Fotheringhay, and I had gone down into the camp, late, with some message. Everything was steaming with damp summer heat and in the musky darkness I discovered him with a young maid, whom he bade me guard through the ranks and deliver to the Duchess of Bedford’s apartments.
. . . I had thought it prudent to offer the damsel my arm, as she struggled through the trailing briars. . . . She stopped suddenly when we had gone a few steps and turned to look back.
‘Ah Jesu!’ she whispered, ‘How he shines!’
I fixed my sight upon the pale Duke, bringing him near in the lanternlight. A moth flew round his face and he lifted his hand to brush it away. The maiden smiled, in tears.
‘There is a light. . . a light,’ she sighed.
‘What then, mistress?’
She had looked up at me from the cavern of her hood.
‘A light about him not of this world,’ she said.
I could see naught but the fen-fires, burning malefically."
In any kind of literary studies, readers are frequently instructed in the import of every single word; in no other novel has this reviewer found this to be quite as so as in this one. It is, as Jarman herself states, “a mammoth work,” though by no means in size alone. The information, understanding, historical references, implications—every single sentence contains something to inform another passage or reality, or brings to bear somewhere else. And the author not only weaves it all together, but does so via three different complex personalities. An additional result, for better or worse, is a greater awareness of the psychology of humans. Readers begin to grasp the scope of differences, the pathways in lives, and understand a bit more about the why in some of them. We may never understand why Richard makes some of the choices he does, though we can more competently assess the reality in which he lives, and leave judgment off for someone else.
Nevertheless choices do lead people, as they do for this Man of Keen Sight. Greater awareness of his own choices leads him to the cell he now occupies, willingly, for he chooses not to quit the field alive. That he leaves alive became the choice of an Other, and it is to lead him to his death. He speaks plainly of the books about Richard he shall never read, though he is sure they cannot invent hateful propaganda, for “[t]hey would need to invent a devil in human shape, so great was his glory.”
And so they did. The Maiden, following escape with her royal daughter from the pseudo house of God the Woodvilles had imprisoned her in, learns so very quickly when she quite by chance sees, on that terrible summer day in 1485, the prophecy become true. As the Tudor men’s victory train passes by, approaching the Bow Bridge,
they surged on to [it], packed tight, their horses struggling in fear. The mule [hauling Richard’s ill-treated body], now nearly dropping from weariness among the foaming destriers, the steel-clad thighs, its flanks sodden with bloody sweat, staggered against the side of the bridge. The King’s head was crushed upon the stone. I heard the sound of rending bone, saw the bright new hurt done to the head which once did lie so sweetly in my lap. And I went mad.
*********
But who was comfortable in the choices that led to this moment? Perhaps even not Henry Tudor, who worried these moments, some say, for the rest of his life, and not just in fear of his reign on this earth. The paranoia he created, not so uncommon in some royal circles, lived still when the one called Perkin Warbeck appeared, indeed still when the last Tudor monarch ruled. “They”—not only the Tudors—did indeed create a devil in human shape, taken up by others in fear for their lives.
What of us, then? We no longer have such fear stalking us. We can speak freely of Richard now, yet we, over 500 years later, have been taught and still teach our children of this “devil.” This is the choice we have made, save for some who have dedicated themselves to the truth, from the moment it was safe to do. So the threat over life is no more, but the pain lives on.
‘How strange are the hearts of men!’ Jarman’s Richard had cried out. For in addition to the dreadful memories exist some perceived threat to the power of theory, perhaps, or sense of relating. These people seem to want Richard to remain in the form that has been created for him, and although honest debate has been made, there are others who are not quite so.
In less than two hours from this writing the University of Leicester archeological dig team will reveal to the world the results of the DNA testing they have done on remains found that may be those of Richard, so unceremoniously treated in 1485. For Richard they seek to reverse the prophecy, at least that which relegates him to stink forever.
We cry for him at such inopportune moments, argue his case and in some instances find animosity developing around us. Some, including the author of We Speak No Treason, never wished for this dig to proceed—plainly and awfully spoken, it is indeed the digging up of an anointed king. Others argue they want to give him the dignified burial robbed from him. I cannot help but remember the Mother’s words to our Maiden:
‘Have I not said that this life is a transient thing?’
Whatever our position, it may be our only consolation.
Something stayed my hand, however, and it actually hovered over the return pile as I hesitated and then finally withdrew, my curiosity unwilling to let go of what I might find between these covers.
*********
Curiosity in the Middle Ages could be a dangerous trait, as we see the characters here hover before even simple scenarios they know about or wish to know more of, perform secret observations, listen in on others’ conversations, purposefully or perchance. They, too, draw back, aware that even small choices could change the course of their lives while circumstances around them scheme to propel their destinies in other unknown manner.
The language of the tale is indeed magical yet ordinary. Many of the words we associate with medieval speech appear, and at first, perhaps, readers may perceive them as curious, though the mournful aura of the tale hangs heavier than unknown lexicon. This is perhaps especially as the deeper readers make their way into the telling, the lexicon begins to take on a more ordinary aspect. Words begin to be recognized as cousins to those we use today, their associations and nuances easily understood in the passages they inhabit. Jarman repeats them enough—in the manner people would in ordinary parlance—for us to become accustomed, while avoiding the heavy-handedness that sometimes traps medieval novels in stereotype, and she does with grace and variety, each character at times revealing his or her own patterns of speech.
Forbidden stories of King Richard III, We Speak No Treason is narrated by three who had been close to him though furthest now from any safe position to engage in such discussion: the Maiden, Richard’s former leman-turned-nun; the Fool, perilously serving under Henry Tudor following service to both Richard III and his elder brother, Edward IV; and the Man of Keen Sight, condemned to die for the crime of loyalty to his king, by way of Henry Tudor’s backdating his own reign.
We are led through the events of the years leading up to that terrible summer of 1485, which sees the slaughter of the last Plantagenet king at the hands of Henry Tudor’s impossibly outnumbered army. Treason aids the usurper, whose paranoia is so great that even in the age of Elizabeth I, his granddaughter, no Plantagenet association is too small to remove the threat of execution. Small wonder the characters, revealing to us their secrets in Henry’s time, are “diverters of necessity,” secret personal writings or whisper their tale despite an already appointed date with death.
One’s own choices do not always a destiny make, though sometimes they can seem to seal fates. The Maiden’s remembrances draw us into the tale, by way of a book she had written in and hidden for over sixteen years, knowing she should have set it ablaze long before. Like the garden she tends and loves as her own, she once knew Richard Gloucester and tended him in secret, away from the curious and prying eyes of such like Elysande, who shields her from their common mistress, Jacquetta of Bedford. Friendly with Elysande during the reign of Edward IV, she nevertheless lives within a “cold season,” as she does when telling her tale under Henry VII. For Jacquetta is the mother of Edward’s Queen Elizabeth, of the Woodvilles, Lancastrians whose enmity with Edward’s York branch of the Plantagenets is bitter and long lasting—and later allied with Tudor.
Elysande creates diversions for the lover she knows exists, though she is unaware until later this lover’s Plantagenet name. The Maiden is savvy enough to have created her own strategy to get herself to court with her mistress, but later falls victim to Jacquetta’s and the Queen’s dangerous fright when Edward is taken prisoner by his rebellious Warwick cousin. She is spared death, but packed of to a nunnery, being the only one aware that, as she journeys she “safeguard[s] one last small and secret joy. The royal child, the Plantagenet. The child of my beloved.”
The Maiden’s tale at this point is broken, and prior perusal of the book would indicate that her tale picks up again in the fourth section, “The Nun.” Not necessarily meant to be a surprise, for the Maiden herself references her nun status at the start, and modern readers have at least small awareness of medieval nunneries as a destination for widows and some women without means.
The baton thus passes to the Fool, and as we move deeper into his version of events, we begin to grasp the scope of Jarman’s skill in handling multiple narrators. Until now we have lived the Maiden’s tale with her in linear fashion, which may be the safest method but also the most effective given the sheer volume of detail. Familial relationships, names, events, rivalries, all this and more are referenced in a narrative that spans from the Maiden’s childhood, and prepares the reader for a slight shift in storytelling method as, fittingly, an actor takes the stage.
As such, the jester does not merely talk about disguisings; his life is lived as one. He “hides his wit behind idiocy and keeps a well-tuned ear,” talents that no doubt help ensure his survival under the reign of Henry Tudor. Moreover, Jarman’s technique with his storytelling reflects these methods he utilizes, giving the reader occasional pause to wonder under which King or moment the Fool now speaks. He tells of the Tudor’s paranoia manifest in a demand made after witnessing his mastiffs take on and kill a lion: ‘Hang them…Traitorous dogs shall not rise against a king.’
Piers—he reveals to us his name as well as internal conflict—nevertheless must at times strain to bear the load his lot in life has given him. “I live in past and present, then suddenly both come together with a fierce clash like an axe on armour and I am shaken into confusion[.]” He tends to confide in us some of the most horrific scenes at natural stopping points, or such when one must cease for the moment, the weight of his knowledge being too difficult to bear. We read these passages and then stop, the silence sitting with us as heavy as the terrible words preceding it. While talking about Anne’s pregnancy with the beloved Edward, Piers remembers Richard’s bastard son, and discusses at length the family’s living arrangement. John of Gloucester, he tells us, went to the block at age twenty, “brave Plantagenet. Traitorous dogs shall not rise against a King.”
If seeing so deftly into past and present while juggling to maintain a future is a curse as well as blessing, so too is there a downside to the acute vision possessed by the aptly named Man of Keen Sight, who, incidentally, meets briefly with Piers, who initially writes him off as a braggart.
However, it is so; the man has the ability to see into a long distance with greater acuity than most any other person. This aids greatly in his riding skills, but is “the archer’s enemy,” owing to the deficiency in spatial differentiation it causes. Perhaps akin to or presenting in conjunction with a proprioceptive disorder, it disorients the vision so receptors provide misinformation as to distance. “How,” the man asks, “can an archer study the nock and the unwavering hold when already the fat white cloud dangles close to his nose?”
Nonetheless, he develops technique to conquer this “useful fault” and it leads to riding with the Duke of Gloucester, whom he comes to love. The Man goes into exile with Richard, Dickon, who assigns him a pseudonym, “Mark Eye,” fitting for an archer and pleasing to the Man. He grows to love Dickon, and life, good, moves on.
It is not to last, however, as readers are aware from the time the Man is introduced by way of a penitent verse of "The Nut-Brown Maid", one of many sung to us through the course of the novel:
It standeth so; a deed is do
Whereof great harm shall grow;
My destiny is for to die
A shameful death, I trow.
Or else to flee, the t’one must be,
None other way I know
But to withdraw as an outlaw
And take me to my bow.
Wherefore adieu, my own heart true!
None other rede I can;
For I must to the greenwood go,
Alone, a banished man.
Indeed, we are privy from the start to the understanding that herein lies a condemned man, one even who hears the construction outside of his own gallows. Frequently, as he relays his story to us from his cell, he accepts defeat and fault. He condemns his actions, though not for having ridden at the last with King Richard, but rather for the shame that stayed with him for having neglected his friendship and duty to the king, indeed for having betrayed him by teaming up, cowardly-like, with those aiming to destroy Richard after King Edward’s death.
It is also he who receives the prophecy depicting the end of the Plantagenet line, and: “your King. . . the foot that strikes the stone shall turn into a head, and the bones tossed on a dunghill, to stink forever.” He tries to shake off memory of it, as he tried to dismiss it when it is first told him. But his ability to do fails, as increasingly does any sort of sight that may have aided him to perceive the darkness in men, as Richard himself comments upon, after regaining the upper hand from those who aim to thwart his protectorship: “How strange are the hearts of men!” That Richard chooses time and again to forgive those who seek to do him ill—or are too lazy or cowardly to protest such—provides a vision in itself, the “natural” consequences, some might say, of allowing those who seek his destruction to roam free.
If Richard possesses such a failing and declines to admit it, the Man does not. He speaks in hindsight of his acuity dimming and recalls grievously instances when, even then, he ought to have wondered. In moments such as these, again, the author weaves her own storytelling skills by presenting the same event from different perspectives—and how different they at times are! Comparison of the passages indicate clearly what is important to each teller, by way of what each highlights (or leaves out) as well as their brevity or length.
There is a sort of deja-vu to these scenes, ghostly almost, until readers realize in fact they have been here before.
"He summoned a sleepy young man to escort me back to the castle, one who had but lately come on duty, so that none should know, for the greenish dawn was rising over the fens and the camp would soon be stirring. He raised his hand to me as he stood between the tent-flaps, and there was a light about him that was not earthly; or it may have been their marsh fiends dimming their night-lamps behind him; I did not know."
[...]
"It was at Fotheringhay, and I had gone down into the camp, late, with some message. Everything was steaming with damp summer heat and in the musky darkness I discovered him with a young maid, whom he bade me guard through the ranks and deliver to the Duchess of Bedford’s apartments.
. . . I had thought it prudent to offer the damsel my arm, as she struggled through the trailing briars. . . . She stopped suddenly when we had gone a few steps and turned to look back.
‘Ah Jesu!’ she whispered, ‘How he shines!’
I fixed my sight upon the pale Duke, bringing him near in the lanternlight. A moth flew round his face and he lifted his hand to brush it away. The maiden smiled, in tears.
‘There is a light. . . a light,’ she sighed.
‘What then, mistress?’
She had looked up at me from the cavern of her hood.
‘A light about him not of this world,’ she said.
I could see naught but the fen-fires, burning malefically."
In any kind of literary studies, readers are frequently instructed in the import of every single word; in no other novel has this reviewer found this to be quite as so as in this one. It is, as Jarman herself states, “a mammoth work,” though by no means in size alone. The information, understanding, historical references, implications—every single sentence contains something to inform another passage or reality, or brings to bear somewhere else. And the author not only weaves it all together, but does so via three different complex personalities. An additional result, for better or worse, is a greater awareness of the psychology of humans. Readers begin to grasp the scope of differences, the pathways in lives, and understand a bit more about the why in some of them. We may never understand why Richard makes some of the choices he does, though we can more competently assess the reality in which he lives, and leave judgment off for someone else.
Nevertheless choices do lead people, as they do for this Man of Keen Sight. Greater awareness of his own choices leads him to the cell he now occupies, willingly, for he chooses not to quit the field alive. That he leaves alive became the choice of an Other, and it is to lead him to his death. He speaks plainly of the books about Richard he shall never read, though he is sure they cannot invent hateful propaganda, for “[t]hey would need to invent a devil in human shape, so great was his glory.”
And so they did. The Maiden, following escape with her royal daughter from the pseudo house of God the Woodvilles had imprisoned her in, learns so very quickly when she quite by chance sees, on that terrible summer day in 1485, the prophecy become true. As the Tudor men’s victory train passes by, approaching the Bow Bridge,
they surged on to [it], packed tight, their horses struggling in fear. The mule [hauling Richard’s ill-treated body], now nearly dropping from weariness among the foaming destriers, the steel-clad thighs, its flanks sodden with bloody sweat, staggered against the side of the bridge. The King’s head was crushed upon the stone. I heard the sound of rending bone, saw the bright new hurt done to the head which once did lie so sweetly in my lap. And I went mad.
*********
But who was comfortable in the choices that led to this moment? Perhaps even not Henry Tudor, who worried these moments, some say, for the rest of his life, and not just in fear of his reign on this earth. The paranoia he created, not so uncommon in some royal circles, lived still when the one called Perkin Warbeck appeared, indeed still when the last Tudor monarch ruled. “They”—not only the Tudors—did indeed create a devil in human shape, taken up by others in fear for their lives.
What of us, then? We no longer have such fear stalking us. We can speak freely of Richard now, yet we, over 500 years later, have been taught and still teach our children of this “devil.” This is the choice we have made, save for some who have dedicated themselves to the truth, from the moment it was safe to do. So the threat over life is no more, but the pain lives on.
‘How strange are the hearts of men!’ Jarman’s Richard had cried out. For in addition to the dreadful memories exist some perceived threat to the power of theory, perhaps, or sense of relating. These people seem to want Richard to remain in the form that has been created for him, and although honest debate has been made, there are others who are not quite so.
In less than two hours from this writing the University of Leicester archeological dig team will reveal to the world the results of the DNA testing they have done on remains found that may be those of Richard, so unceremoniously treated in 1485. For Richard they seek to reverse the prophecy, at least that which relegates him to stink forever.
We cry for him at such inopportune moments, argue his case and in some instances find animosity developing around us. Some, including the author of We Speak No Treason, never wished for this dig to proceed—plainly and awfully spoken, it is indeed the digging up of an anointed king. Others argue they want to give him the dignified burial robbed from him. I cannot help but remember the Mother’s words to our Maiden:
‘Have I not said that this life is a transient thing?’
Whatever our position, it may be our only consolation.
November 7, 2017
Like The King’s Grey Mare, We Speak No Treason is beautifully written. Not this time from the viewpoint of the main character, but from the viewpoint of peripheral characters, eg. a maid who is in love with Richard, and the king’s jester; characters who took no part in events but happened to be there to witness them. Sometimes this involves them in the most unlikely coincidences! For example, the jester just happens to find the missing Anne Neville concealed in the house of his mother’s neighbour. Pushing the reader’s credulity a bit far, maybe.
RHJ conveys an effective sense of medieval speech and atmosphere without it sounding false or contrived. Actually it's years since I first read this book. It's among my favourite Richard III novels, though I would like to have seen more of Richard himself in the narrative
RHJ conveys an effective sense of medieval speech and atmosphere without it sounding false or contrived. Actually it's years since I first read this book. It's among my favourite Richard III novels, though I would like to have seen more of Richard himself in the narrative
June 20, 2019
This is my fourth read of this book, which I first bought in 1972.
I had always been skeptical of Richard III being the evil hunchback of Tudor propaganda and had already read a sympathetic novel (The White Boar). What sets this novel out from others is that the story of Richard is told by three different people, all with their own distinct voice and all seeing him from a different perspective. The one that wrenches your heart is The Maid/The Nun, a maid with nut brown hair who fell so deeply in love with Richard that it is heartbreaking for both she, and the reader, know that he cannot marry her, even if he would. The fool, who loves The Maid, though she knows it not, only comes to respect Richard in later times and The Man of Keen Sight betrays him, only to come back to be at his side at Bosworth Field. Only one other author, to my knowledge, has tried writing a novel like this and, although Martha Rofheart's "Cry God for Harry" is a decent enough read, it is not in the same class. It is a difficult gendre and even Rosemary Hawley Jarman did not repeat it in her "Courts of Illusion", "The King's Grey Mare" and "Crown in Candlelight".
Even after 4 reads, many years appart, this story touches me in a way few others have. The only problem I have with it, is one I have with all pro-Richard III novels, and pro King Harold Godwinson novels - I hate the inevitable ending!
I had always been skeptical of Richard III being the evil hunchback of Tudor propaganda and had already read a sympathetic novel (The White Boar). What sets this novel out from others is that the story of Richard is told by three different people, all with their own distinct voice and all seeing him from a different perspective. The one that wrenches your heart is The Maid/The Nun, a maid with nut brown hair who fell so deeply in love with Richard that it is heartbreaking for both she, and the reader, know that he cannot marry her, even if he would. The fool, who loves The Maid, though she knows it not, only comes to respect Richard in later times and The Man of Keen Sight betrays him, only to come back to be at his side at Bosworth Field. Only one other author, to my knowledge, has tried writing a novel like this and, although Martha Rofheart's "Cry God for Harry" is a decent enough read, it is not in the same class. It is a difficult gendre and even Rosemary Hawley Jarman did not repeat it in her "Courts of Illusion", "The King's Grey Mare" and "Crown in Candlelight".
Even after 4 reads, many years appart, this story touches me in a way few others have. The only problem I have with it, is one I have with all pro-Richard III novels, and pro King Harold Godwinson novels - I hate the inevitable ending!
January 1, 2017
There is a really wicked cut at this book in Elizabeth Peters' The Murders of Richard III, something to the effect that it sounded like all novels about Richard written by women with three names. On the other hand, the man had, and still has, charisma. When I watched that poor soul's face --- the one who had him dug up --- as she realized that he did, in fact, have a physical defect with his back, I didn't know where to look.
Anyway. I have no idea if Richard killed the boys. Absent a smoking gun, or at least pillowcase, we will never know. It is at least somewhat germane that his contemporaries, as in people on the ground in 1484, did believe it was a possibility. None of this matters to RHJ. She turns him into a Moody Misunderstood Hot Guy (Again, Peters: "I doubt he cried all that much." And Peters likes Richard.) She does this by sleight-of-hand. We never get inside Richard's head. Rather, the story is told through three points of view: a Maid, a Warrior and a Fool. A real fool, as in it is his job at the court of Edward IV, then Richard's ducal court and finally at the Dragon's, which is the annoying way RHJ refers to Henry VII. Because he was Welsh. Get it? Each of the narrators gets a crack at explaining a different side of Richard. The Maid (not for long) gets to review him as a lover. Spoiler alert: he's terrific, even leaving her a souvenir. The Fool fills us in on Richard as devoted husband to Anne Neville and father to Edward of Middleham, and boy howdy, he's great as both. And the Warrior lets us know why people were willing to die for him. He was that good a military figure, despite the King Duncan shortcoming of constantly trusting all of the wrong people all of the time. Rivers. Hastings. Margaret Beaufort, who swans through the book like Cruela de Vil. The last chapter is told by the Maid, now the Nun, and we get to find out that Richard had a terrific burial thanks to the people who loved him. Unfortunately, RHJ wrote before we found the body under the car park. But that's literature, I guess.
By now the attentive reader might be wondering why I awarded We Speak No Treason four stars. Simple. When she isn't maundering about Richard, RHJ delivers the goods about the Middle Ages. She crafts effective details about life in a bad convent, then life in a good one. She lets the reader get a good sense of life in medieval London. And despite the pre-occupation each of her narrators has with the Moody Hot Guy, each emerges as a fully-fleshed creation in his/her own right. The Warrior is the least effective, but that's a minor quibble.
So come for the Middle Ages, and ignore the utterly improbably Cute Beatle at the heart of the book.
Anyway. I have no idea if Richard killed the boys. Absent a smoking gun, or at least pillowcase, we will never know. It is at least somewhat germane that his contemporaries, as in people on the ground in 1484, did believe it was a possibility. None of this matters to RHJ. She turns him into a Moody Misunderstood Hot Guy (Again, Peters: "I doubt he cried all that much." And Peters likes Richard.) She does this by sleight-of-hand. We never get inside Richard's head. Rather, the story is told through three points of view: a Maid, a Warrior and a Fool. A real fool, as in it is his job at the court of Edward IV, then Richard's ducal court and finally at the Dragon's, which is the annoying way RHJ refers to Henry VII. Because he was Welsh. Get it? Each of the narrators gets a crack at explaining a different side of Richard. The Maid (not for long) gets to review him as a lover. Spoiler alert: he's terrific, even leaving her a souvenir. The Fool fills us in on Richard as devoted husband to Anne Neville and father to Edward of Middleham, and boy howdy, he's great as both. And the Warrior lets us know why people were willing to die for him. He was that good a military figure, despite the King Duncan shortcoming of constantly trusting all of the wrong people all of the time. Rivers. Hastings. Margaret Beaufort, who swans through the book like Cruela de Vil. The last chapter is told by the Maid, now the Nun, and we get to find out that Richard had a terrific burial thanks to the people who loved him. Unfortunately, RHJ wrote before we found the body under the car park. But that's literature, I guess.
By now the attentive reader might be wondering why I awarded We Speak No Treason four stars. Simple. When she isn't maundering about Richard, RHJ delivers the goods about the Middle Ages. She crafts effective details about life in a bad convent, then life in a good one. She lets the reader get a good sense of life in medieval London. And despite the pre-occupation each of her narrators has with the Moody Hot Guy, each emerges as a fully-fleshed creation in his/her own right. The Warrior is the least effective, but that's a minor quibble.
So come for the Middle Ages, and ignore the utterly improbably Cute Beatle at the heart of the book.
August 19, 2014
A defence of Richard III.
Interesting Facts from the book:
The order, given by Richard IIII, to have fine garments made for Edward IV's two little sons is still extant. This was given long after the rumours that he had had them imprisoned and murdered in the Tower.
Richard III believed Margaret Beaufort (Henry VII's mother) to be his supporter right to the time of the Battle of Bosworth. Her husband, Lord Stanley, defected and joined the Lancaster troops at the battle.
Richard's three known children were Edward, his son with Queen Anne Neville, Katherine, his illegitimate daughter, whom he cared for and an illegitimate son, John of Gloucester, who was murdered by Henry VII.
Interesting Facts from the book:
The order, given by Richard IIII, to have fine garments made for Edward IV's two little sons is still extant. This was given long after the rumours that he had had them imprisoned and murdered in the Tower.
Richard III believed Margaret Beaufort (Henry VII's mother) to be his supporter right to the time of the Battle of Bosworth. Her husband, Lord Stanley, defected and joined the Lancaster troops at the battle.
Richard's three known children were Edward, his son with Queen Anne Neville, Katherine, his illegitimate daughter, whom he cared for and an illegitimate son, John of Gloucester, who was murdered by Henry VII.
April 9, 2013
I want to begin this review by stating that, although I am not a "card carrying" member of the Richard III society, I am deeply affected by the history of this time. I love Richard III novels, and non-fiction. The tragedy of this time is unmistakable. Richard was such a GOOD and loyal person, until his brother Edward IV died. I do believe that he is the most likely suspect in the disappearance of his nephews. The murder (because I believe that is what it was)of William Hastings shows he had enough nerve to dispose of those who could possibly block his way to the crown.
This book is more than 40 years old but I loved it. Rosemary Jarman makes it highly obvious nearly from the beginning, which way her beliefs swing in this Ricardian controversy. I'm not telling, as it would spoil the book! It is told from the perspectives of three people in Richard's life: the Maiden, the Knight of Keen Sight, and Patch the court fool. It gets a bit sleepy during part of the Knight's tale, but not for long.
The ending of the book felt particularly heart wrenching and slightly bizarre, in light of the recent discovery of Richard III's body. Almost prophetic.
It's a long book but it's a definite recommend.
This book is more than 40 years old but I loved it. Rosemary Jarman makes it highly obvious nearly from the beginning, which way her beliefs swing in this Ricardian controversy. I'm not telling, as it would spoil the book! It is told from the perspectives of three people in Richard's life: the Maiden, the Knight of Keen Sight, and Patch the court fool. It gets a bit sleepy during part of the Knight's tale, but not for long.
The ending of the book felt particularly heart wrenching and slightly bizarre, in light of the recent discovery of Richard III's body. Almost prophetic.
It's a long book but it's a definite recommend.
October 12, 2013
This was my introduction into Ricardian literature. I liked it a lot and I loved Jarman's over-the-top take on Richard. I think if you are going to paint him as a hero you might as well go all the way. He has superhuman strength, he is an awesome lover (at 17) and he inspires mad lifelong passion in the character of the Nun. No sarcasm, loved the bold strokes of this book and the crazy OTT language. Was rooting for the nun too. A fun, although a bit depressing read.
November 10, 2024
This was one of the first books romanticizing Richard III that I read, probably somewhere around the mid- or late eighties. I had the German translation out from the local library and had always wanted to find it again, esp in the original. Found it for the kindle and finally re-read it.
I do remember finding the middle a bit lengthy back then and I did so again this time round and while its romanticism was over the top for me this time more than last, I still enjoyed it.
The book is in four parts, each part has one person narrating their personal history with Richard III, spanning the years 1463 - 1485, mostly.
The first is a young girl in the service of Elizabeth Woodville, then courted by Edward IV. She accompanies her to court and falls in love with Richard, who is being rejected at court all the time, and whose brooding melancholy covering honesty, loyalty and kindness is laid on really thickly - which obviously appealed to me a lot at eighteen, and I still liked it in general - and the love of the girl is just boundless.
Next there's a fool, which lets us glimpse into ordinary life of the times, and the story of Richard looking for his Anne - very sweetly romantic in a nice way, albeit a bit jarring in light of the previous part, stressing the girl's love being rather one-sided.
Third, there's a soldier whose story tells about Richard as warrior. This narrator is a rather unlikeable character, so although his story sets out not only Richard's prowess but also unswerving loyalty (contrasted with the narrator having to find his way to loyalty), I found this the least pleasant part. This story takes us all the way up to Bosworth and beyond, so, to wrap up we meet the girl again.
The fourth part concludes the history of the girl, sent off to a convent by the Woodvilles at the end of part one. The problems there and the characters she meets, her eventual escape and return to another monastery where she spent her childhood take centre stage here and Richard's history is only glimpsed, as it would be for one living outside the world. Her love for him, however, is as all-consuming as ever, which at this point seems somewhat over the top, really. After Bosworth, Richard's body is brought to that convent, so she only sees him again in death. Having begun with her writing down her story, the book now ends with her ending her story at old age, long into the Tudor reign.
The history is mostly reliable, with a lot of fanciful and romantic additions of course, but only of things that are not known to have been one way or the other. The structure is interesting and keeps up interest. The language tries to reflect the time and mostly succeeds in a pleasant and readable way, even if sometimes an archaic word that needed looking up turned out to be well post-15th century.
I do remember finding the middle a bit lengthy back then and I did so again this time round and while its romanticism was over the top for me this time more than last, I still enjoyed it.
The book is in four parts, each part has one person narrating their personal history with Richard III, spanning the years 1463 - 1485, mostly.
The first is a young girl in the service of Elizabeth Woodville, then courted by Edward IV. She accompanies her to court and falls in love with Richard, who is being rejected at court all the time, and whose brooding melancholy covering honesty, loyalty and kindness is laid on really thickly - which obviously appealed to me a lot at eighteen, and I still liked it in general - and the love of the girl is just boundless.
Next there's a fool, which lets us glimpse into ordinary life of the times, and the story of Richard looking for his Anne - very sweetly romantic in a nice way, albeit a bit jarring in light of the previous part, stressing the girl's love being rather one-sided.
Third, there's a soldier whose story tells about Richard as warrior. This narrator is a rather unlikeable character, so although his story sets out not only Richard's prowess but also unswerving loyalty (contrasted with the narrator having to find his way to loyalty), I found this the least pleasant part. This story takes us all the way up to Bosworth and beyond, so, to wrap up we meet the girl again.
The fourth part concludes the history of the girl, sent off to a convent by the Woodvilles at the end of part one. The problems there and the characters she meets, her eventual escape and return to another monastery where she spent her childhood take centre stage here and Richard's history is only glimpsed, as it would be for one living outside the world. Her love for him, however, is as all-consuming as ever, which at this point seems somewhat over the top, really. After Bosworth, Richard's body is brought to that convent, so she only sees him again in death. Having begun with her writing down her story, the book now ends with her ending her story at old age, long into the Tudor reign.
The history is mostly reliable, with a lot of fanciful and romantic additions of course, but only of things that are not known to have been one way or the other. The structure is interesting and keeps up interest. The language tries to reflect the time and mostly succeeds in a pleasant and readable way, even if sometimes an archaic word that needed looking up turned out to be well post-15th century.
February 5, 2022
The two books of Rosemary Hawley Jarmon’s We Speak No Treason tell the story of King Richard II of England through the eyes of three people who were close to him but not members of the nobility of the time. According to the author, there is some documentation that these people really existed, although it is sparse since they were not famous or powerful people. Their real names are not given – probably their real names are not even known.
The first book begins, and the second book ends, with the tale of a woman known to us in these books only as “The Nut-Brown Maid” after a song that is supposedly written for her early in the book. I have no idea whether this is an actual song dating from the time, or whether it is something written especially for this book by the author. But snatches of it crop up repeatedly throughout the Nut-Brown Maid’s portions of the book. The refrain which seems to be the main point of the song is:
For In my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone
The Nut-Brown Maid adopts these two lines of the song as her personal mission statement, and when she meets Richard while he is still the Duke of Gloucester she uses them to mentally glue herself to him. In this story, she becomes the mother of his daughter.
It is documented that Richard II had two illegitimate children in addition to his legitimate son who died young. I once read another interpretation of his story in which one young lady, a member of the minor nobility loosely associated with the Howard family was the mother of both children. I actually liked that version better, although I suppose there is no knowing how near either comes to the truth. That young lady was a much more likable character.
In this story, the Nut-Brown Maid is a dependent of the family of Elizabeth Woodville, Edward IV’s queen. Elizabeth Woodville was looked down on by many of the nobility of the time as being of inferior family herself. Rosemary Jarmon Hawley has written another book about her – The King’s Grey Mare. In both books, the supposed witchcraft of Elizabeth Woodville’s mother, Jacquetta, Duchess of Bedford, is described and emphasized. Ms. Hawley is at her best writing scenes of the interaction between her characters and the spirit world, especially the scenes involving the ancient religions. Unfortunately, this somehow gives the books sort of a misty feel, so that it is next to impossible to get very close to any of the characters. Once the Nut-Brown Maid has seen the ceremony the Duchess uses to bewitch Edward IV into marrying Elizabeth, she seems to move behind a veil for the rest of the story – after she meets Richard and becomes his mistress, and even years later after she has been ejected from court life and moved to a convent.
Other things that make it difficult to get a feel for her are the short snatches of the scenes of court life that she sees and the fact that she spends much of her time while she is actively involved with Richard in a self-described state of insanity. And she does act very much like a teenager in love at this point (perhaps because she is a teenager in love; she is about twelve at the time of the bewitching ceremony and can’t be much more than three years older by the time her fellow maid accuses her of watching it which causes her to be sent away). Nothing much penetrates her consciousness beyond whether Richard is there or not.
The second half of this first book is told by the King’s fool. In the book, he is called Patch.
Patch meets the Nut-Brown Maid at the May Day celebration where the Woodvilles have sent all their servants and dependents so they will not witness the secret wedding between Elizabeth and Edward. It is he who introduces her to the minstrel who composes the Nut-Brown Maid song. He appears to be a little in love with her, but not so much that he can’t move on with his life afterward. When she comes to court, he is the only person she knows there, and it is he who tells her who Richard is and some of his history.
But Patch plays a much larger part in Richard’s life than just pointing him out to the Nut-Brown Maid. He acts as sort of an informal spy for King Edward. And later a fire at his mother’s shop leads him to enter another shop where he finds, to his surprise, Anne Neville, daughter of the Duke of Warwick and the true love of Richard of Gloucester who he has been unable otherwise to find anywhere.
After they are married, the King gifts Patch to his brother, and Patch follows the Duke to his estate at Middleham where he stays mostly until they learn of the death of Edward IV.
The story picks up in the next book with yet another narrator.
The first book begins, and the second book ends, with the tale of a woman known to us in these books only as “The Nut-Brown Maid” after a song that is supposedly written for her early in the book. I have no idea whether this is an actual song dating from the time, or whether it is something written especially for this book by the author. But snatches of it crop up repeatedly throughout the Nut-Brown Maid’s portions of the book. The refrain which seems to be the main point of the song is:
For In my mind, of all mankind
I love but you alone
The Nut-Brown Maid adopts these two lines of the song as her personal mission statement, and when she meets Richard while he is still the Duke of Gloucester she uses them to mentally glue herself to him. In this story, she becomes the mother of his daughter.
It is documented that Richard II had two illegitimate children in addition to his legitimate son who died young. I once read another interpretation of his story in which one young lady, a member of the minor nobility loosely associated with the Howard family was the mother of both children. I actually liked that version better, although I suppose there is no knowing how near either comes to the truth. That young lady was a much more likable character.
In this story, the Nut-Brown Maid is a dependent of the family of Elizabeth Woodville, Edward IV’s queen. Elizabeth Woodville was looked down on by many of the nobility of the time as being of inferior family herself. Rosemary Jarmon Hawley has written another book about her – The King’s Grey Mare. In both books, the supposed witchcraft of Elizabeth Woodville’s mother, Jacquetta, Duchess of Bedford, is described and emphasized. Ms. Hawley is at her best writing scenes of the interaction between her characters and the spirit world, especially the scenes involving the ancient religions. Unfortunately, this somehow gives the books sort of a misty feel, so that it is next to impossible to get very close to any of the characters. Once the Nut-Brown Maid has seen the ceremony the Duchess uses to bewitch Edward IV into marrying Elizabeth, she seems to move behind a veil for the rest of the story – after she meets Richard and becomes his mistress, and even years later after she has been ejected from court life and moved to a convent.
Other things that make it difficult to get a feel for her are the short snatches of the scenes of court life that she sees and the fact that she spends much of her time while she is actively involved with Richard in a self-described state of insanity. And she does act very much like a teenager in love at this point (perhaps because she is a teenager in love; she is about twelve at the time of the bewitching ceremony and can’t be much more than three years older by the time her fellow maid accuses her of watching it which causes her to be sent away). Nothing much penetrates her consciousness beyond whether Richard is there or not.
The second half of this first book is told by the King’s fool. In the book, he is called Patch.
Patch meets the Nut-Brown Maid at the May Day celebration where the Woodvilles have sent all their servants and dependents so they will not witness the secret wedding between Elizabeth and Edward. It is he who introduces her to the minstrel who composes the Nut-Brown Maid song. He appears to be a little in love with her, but not so much that he can’t move on with his life afterward. When she comes to court, he is the only person she knows there, and it is he who tells her who Richard is and some of his history.
But Patch plays a much larger part in Richard’s life than just pointing him out to the Nut-Brown Maid. He acts as sort of an informal spy for King Edward. And later a fire at his mother’s shop leads him to enter another shop where he finds, to his surprise, Anne Neville, daughter of the Duke of Warwick and the true love of Richard of Gloucester who he has been unable otherwise to find anywhere.
After they are married, the King gifts Patch to his brother, and Patch follows the Duke to his estate at Middleham where he stays mostly until they learn of the death of Edward IV.
The story picks up in the next book with yet another narrator.
July 30, 2024
"We Speak No Treason" by Rosemary Hawley Jarman is a historical fiction novel set in the late 15th century during the Wars of the Roses. It tells the story of Richard III through the eyes of three fictional narrators: the Maiden, the Fool, and the Man of Keen Sight. I would assume the main themes are of loyalty, love, and betrayal yet, the viewpoints are so one-sided as to be ridiculous. The Maiden falls in love with Richard, Duke of Gloucester……………. Why? It is never clear. The Fool and MoKS too are blindly loyal but this reviewer is never sure why. These underdeveloped roles can make it difficult for readers to fully invest in their journeys and relate to their motivations and actions.
Richard is the fourth central figure of the story and is presented very sympathetically. He is seen as honorable, brave and just with a strong sense of duty. Yet, these very traits do not make him the best of lovers, bosses or friends. His portrayal makes him one-dimensional, over-romanticized which considering his use of power and shrewdness in the political sphere makes it pathetic how these three figures are so devoted to him. One guesses it is only because he is Richard, Duke of Gloucester. Jarman just want to challenge preconceived notions and invite readers to reconsider Richard III’s place in history.
Jarman's prose is lyrical with vivid descriptions and plenty of historical detail. Unfortunately, this reviewer felt there was a tad overuse of certain phrases and words (Jesu! or Certes), ‘princely’ language which never quite seemed era appropriate, and the diverse perspectives led to some fragmentation in the reading even with repeat events (Richard dies a couple of times) and unfocused storylines.
Jarman's evident admiration for Richard III overlooks some of the more controversial aspects of his reign while disappointing to some readers, others may find the 576-page commitment satisfying, more so if the reader has an understanding of the era of the War of the Roses.
July 31, 2022
I read this when it first came out in 1971 (for some reason the paperback edition I now have is in two parts). It came close on the heels of reading Josephine Tey's "The Daughter of Time", and for many years I was a romantic Ricardian. Nowadays I think on balance he probably was quite ruthless and did indeed have poor little Ned and Dick killed. But I'm still fascinated by the period, was very excited when they discovered his bones in the car park, and went with a friend in a rainy March 2015 to stand in a wet Leicester street watching the long-delayed obsequies at Leicester Cathedral on a big screen. I think the romance lies in it being the end of the Middle Ages; soon Henry VII's son would strip us of our saints and shrines, our candles and prayers for our dead loved ones....
But to Ms Jarman's book. This is a really good, well-written, beautifully imagined historical novel. She avoids the knee-slapping fustian of "Gadzooks, my lord!", inventing a hybrid language between modern and medieval speech, which swings the story along: "Gardening is all of my pleasure now. It was ever more a joy than a duty, to watch the tender shoots burst forth in spring, and to know that I had a part of them, in the cold season".
There's a richness and immediacy to it all: the casting of weird spells to ensnare King Edward, the Maiden watching the far-off revels at Court from her draughty hiding place above, the old nun at the end casting her beautiful embroidery as a pall over the dead king...
Here Richard is portrayed as the verray parfit gentil knight. An alternative, what-might-have-been history.
But to Ms Jarman's book. This is a really good, well-written, beautifully imagined historical novel. She avoids the knee-slapping fustian of "Gadzooks, my lord!", inventing a hybrid language between modern and medieval speech, which swings the story along: "Gardening is all of my pleasure now. It was ever more a joy than a duty, to watch the tender shoots burst forth in spring, and to know that I had a part of them, in the cold season".
There's a richness and immediacy to it all: the casting of weird spells to ensnare King Edward, the Maiden watching the far-off revels at Court from her draughty hiding place above, the old nun at the end casting her beautiful embroidery as a pall over the dead king...
Here Richard is portrayed as the verray parfit gentil knight. An alternative, what-might-have-been history.
October 19, 2018
I couldn't handle this at all. I gravitate towards flowery prose and read a great many historical reference works but this was beyond the pale. The language was so odd and over-complicated at points that you would have to revisit passages or end up with the uncomfortable sensation that you'd lost the plot thread entirely. I had to keep referring to the ancestral line because the names of characters would oscillate between their given name and their titles. I felt as if the author was doing everything in her power to alienate her readers. After one hundred pages, I've had quite enough.
July 21, 2018
Richard III comes to life under Rosemary Hawley Jarman’s Rich, elegant telling from boyhood to death. Told by the Nut-Brown maid who bore his daughter Katherine, by his long-eyed archer, we watch him from stripling youth to murdered king, learn of the Plantagenet reigns of Edward IV, The Sunne in Splendour surrounded by all the Woodvilles and by Richard III instead of his brother’s bastard sons.
March 27, 2025
Not sure if it's just me, but I did not finish this book as I did not care for how the story was developed, nor the author's writing style. Anyone else feel the same?
Anyway, I'm over it and moving onto Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall.
Here's to hopefully a better reading experience about 50 years or so post Richard III in full-blown Tudor England!!
Anyway, I'm over it and moving onto Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall.
Here's to hopefully a better reading experience about 50 years or so post Richard III in full-blown Tudor England!!
June 27, 2020
Greatly entertaining and enjoyable fictionalised account of Richard III.
Read
January 15, 2026Harder to follow than I expected. The two halves of the book seem disjointed, perhaps trying to get up the sequel?
September 13, 2026
I was willing to push through the bloated snoozefest that was the third narrator's chapter but the ricardian bias got so bad I had to drop it.
June 17, 2024
I was going to review this 'properly', but I'm clearly never going to have time; suffice it to say that the evocation of the mediaeval setting and mindset is brilliantly done - these are very definitely not modern characters in fancy dress - and the Maiden/Nun's Tale still hits me intensely with its agony of lost chances and loss.
Pasted from my original updates while reading:
"I'd forgotten just how dense and elusive the prose in this is (and the fact that the whole thing is told in retrospect from the point of view of the Maiden as a very old nun; I think I probably blanked out/skipped that page on first reading, because it is pretty meaningless until you have already reached the end).
It's odd to re-encounter "the bailey beareth the bell away" now, after having sung it!"
13.89% "I'm assuming "The Nut-Brown Maid" actually is a extant mediaeval ballad and not a composition of the author's own...?"
38.54% "This is the least successful section, I think, with hindsight - a dizzying gallop through too much history in summary, now that I know what all those references actually mean instead of just letting Patch's prattle roll off over my head. And the author has trouble reconciling a longstanding love for Anne Neville with her creation of the Maiden..."
55.56% "Now *this* is how you write historical fiction!
Bringing in briefly the Pastons and their constant letters and their lawsuits, with the protagonist even supposed to be a friend of the family, but the whole thing only a background mention and feeling quite natural rather than a laboured attempt at a 'period' setting..."
78.47% "This was the section of the book I first encountered by chance, without realising that it was only the second volume of a longer novel or knowing anything to speak of about the period; I still think it is probably the most successful as straight historical fiction, although the references to Bruges and other prior events don't make much sense unless you have read the first volume.."
94.44% "I have been avoiding reading this last part, but I had forgotten how terribly, bitterly close to home it cuts, for completely different reasons; what an outcry in these almost plot-free pages of desire and despair, and how much it hurt to read"
Pasted from my original updates while reading:
"I'd forgotten just how dense and elusive the prose in this is (and the fact that the whole thing is told in retrospect from the point of view of the Maiden as a very old nun; I think I probably blanked out/skipped that page on first reading, because it is pretty meaningless until you have already reached the end).
It's odd to re-encounter "the bailey beareth the bell away" now, after having sung it!"
13.89% "I'm assuming "The Nut-Brown Maid" actually is a extant mediaeval ballad and not a composition of the author's own...?"
38.54% "This is the least successful section, I think, with hindsight - a dizzying gallop through too much history in summary, now that I know what all those references actually mean instead of just letting Patch's prattle roll off over my head. And the author has trouble reconciling a longstanding love for Anne Neville with her creation of the Maiden..."
55.56% "Now *this* is how you write historical fiction!
Bringing in briefly the Pastons and their constant letters and their lawsuits, with the protagonist even supposed to be a friend of the family, but the whole thing only a background mention and feeling quite natural rather than a laboured attempt at a 'period' setting..."
78.47% "This was the section of the book I first encountered by chance, without realising that it was only the second volume of a longer novel or knowing anything to speak of about the period; I still think it is probably the most successful as straight historical fiction, although the references to Bruges and other prior events don't make much sense unless you have read the first volume.."
94.44% "I have been avoiding reading this last part, but I had forgotten how terribly, bitterly close to home it cuts, for completely different reasons; what an outcry in these almost plot-free pages of desire and despair, and how much it hurt to read"
August 21, 2012
The author obviously performed skilled research to create this story. Granted I am not a Richard the 111 historian, but everything seemed true and factual.
I had a few quibbles. One is why not give the characters names? That's right, neither the maiden/nun or the gentleman ever have names. This is odd because somewhere in the narrative another character would say the person's name, not call her or him "lady", "fellow", "friend" and on and on.
Patch the food is granted a name. He's special.
Another quibble is how too often the maiden's story is full of high hysteria. Perhaps the author wants to capture a young woman's edgy lust, but at times the screeching fouls the reading process.
But after I closed the book on the nun's tragic tale, I had tears in my eyes. When Jarman concentrates on crafting remorse and sorrow, she knifes the reader's heart.
I do not recommend this book for readers expecting a quick, easy read. If you aren't into history's dense weave, stay away.
I had a few quibbles. One is why not give the characters names? That's right, neither the maiden/nun or the gentleman ever have names. This is odd because somewhere in the narrative another character would say the person's name, not call her or him "lady", "fellow", "friend" and on and on.
Patch the food is granted a name. He's special.
Another quibble is how too often the maiden's story is full of high hysteria. Perhaps the author wants to capture a young woman's edgy lust, but at times the screeching fouls the reading process.
But after I closed the book on the nun's tragic tale, I had tears in my eyes. When Jarman concentrates on crafting remorse and sorrow, she knifes the reader's heart.
I do not recommend this book for readers expecting a quick, easy read. If you aren't into history's dense weave, stay away.
February 29, 2008
I was interested and suprised to read a book that presents Richard III in a positive light. I became invested in the characters, specifically the main character, Richard's first lover, and the lush language used to evoke the events surrounding the War of the Roses. I recommend it to any who enjoy a good historical fiction.
Incidentally, the title is an excerpt from Shakespeare's The Life and Death of King Richard III (i.i.): "we speak no treason man; we say the king is wise and virtuous...". Because of the context of the quote, Richard III (or Gloucester at the time of this speech) is being "ironic" here, I leapt at reading this book. Thusly, I was surprised to find it presents Richard III in a positive light.
For a more sympathetic view of Richard, a much maligned historical figure, see the web site of The Richard III Society.
Incidentally, the title is an excerpt from Shakespeare's The Life and Death of King Richard III (i.i.): "we speak no treason man; we say the king is wise and virtuous...". Because of the context of the quote, Richard III (or Gloucester at the time of this speech) is being "ironic" here, I leapt at reading this book. Thusly, I was surprised to find it presents Richard III in a positive light.
For a more sympathetic view of Richard, a much maligned historical figure, see the web site of The Richard III Society.
October 21, 2014
This is the story of King Richard III told in three voices: his young lover, the court fool, and one of his men of arms. Each story-teller brings a unique and haunting perspective to the events that ultimately left us with the prototypical villain of Shakespearean fame. This book works as an exoneration of that same man, casting him as a misunderstood and double-crossed figure of tragedy.
The prose are beautiful and dream-like, and indeed you feel as though you are reliving the history through someone's long forgotten dream. It is also one of the more historically accurate narratives I've read of this episode in history. Highly recommended.
The prose are beautiful and dream-like, and indeed you feel as though you are reliving the history through someone's long forgotten dream. It is also one of the more historically accurate narratives I've read of this episode in history. Highly recommended.
September 26, 2014
The narrative, written poetically and almost lyrically, held my attention for the first half of the story as the perspectives of Richard III's life changed. However, after the Fool's chapter, I found myself skimming past the poetry, songs and flowery words just to find the actual story. A chapter of 20 pages may only hold 10 pages of actual storyline and plot, the rest reflective or descriptive. It is certainly Richard III-friendly and a fascinating new way to explore his character and the events around him.
March 12, 2009
I couldn't get into this. This time period of the ever changing crown is confusing enough without the narrative jumping back and forth between the Plantagents, Yorks and Tudors timelines. Also, the narrative voice kept switching. Blergh.
January 24, 2011
Sorely tempted to give this five stars, as I remember being quite take with it when I read it. But memory can be so unreliable I thought it best to play it safe. Perhaps it's one that I should re-read before long.
July 29, 2013
This book is split into two parts whereby the first is from the perspective of a lady in waiting and the second from the perspective of a fool/jester called Patch. I am very keen on stories relating to Richard III and there was more of him in the first part so I preferred that part.
June 23, 2015
A deeply affecting tale that is well-written and very powerful. Though not focusing on Richard directly, the book reveals his character through the lives and voices of others. Though its language is not always easy to read, the stories have an ability to stay with the reader for a very long time.
January 16, 2011
Excellent, my favorite novel based on Richard III.
July 11, 2011
Wow! What a great writer who draws you into the 15th century.
December 13, 2012
Beautifully written! One could take a paragraph and paint a picture. Found the Nun's Tale dragged and was difficult to get through.Otherwise would have given it a 4-star rating.
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