Easter Wishes to all…
To everyone who has enjoyed The Gisborne Saga to date:
Have a wonderful Easter Holiday!
(original image of Guy of Gisborne,BBC/Tiger Aspect Productions)
To everyone who has enjoyed The Gisborne Saga to date:
Have a wonderful Easter Holiday!
(original image of Guy of Gisborne,BBC/Tiger Aspect Productions)
So often people ask why I’ve written a saga about Guy of Gisborne and not Robin Hood, Arthur, Abelard, Tristan or any of the many others from legend and history. So perhaps I need to place it more fully in black and white.
To those who’ve been reading Gisborne as it appeared on the blog, I thought you might like to see how its changing as it travels through its first edit. The first thing to notice is that the story now begins right when Ysabel first meets Guy of Gisborne at the time she receives news of her mother’s death. That convoluted back and forth style of previously has now been replaced by a plain linear narrative.
With that, he turned and walked away
'With that he turned and walked away...'
and the Sister’s hand pulled hard on my sleeve so that I had little choice but to follow. Any disquiet at Guy’s reticence would have to be shelved in the back of my mind as the door in the wall closed behind me. A dulcet quiet drifted over us – bees, birds, water trickling somewhere and silence. Whilst Guy had ensconced me in a number of religious houses, this one felt different. There were similarities to be sure, but the preciously small nature of this place made me feel as if Mary had taken me upon Her palm and lifted me to some place beyond strife. The thought I could become a religieuse floated through my mind once again.
Guy reached over my shoulder the next day and hoisted my saddle onto Monty’s back and I pulled the girth under the belly and cinched it up. Seeing that Guy had saddled his own mount and was even now amongst the merchants holding the animal by the reins, I took the opportunity to find a boulder on which I could place my foot and then stretch to the stirrup and climb aboard. All without attracting undue attention.
And still we traveled. Monty’s coat was slick with sweat despite our midday rest. He had astonishing stamina and as I looked between his ears, I marveled at the war-horses in front of me. I could only imagine the courage and steadfastness that rushed through their veins.
Writing The Sheriff, as I’ve said on the introduction to its page, is enormous fun. I mentioned the joy I have at being able to work on something that is just a first draft, where I am not as bound by the rules as when I get down to second, third, fourth and a million other edits.
To arrive in Le Mans on that day was remarkable. We had heard rumours on the road of the Plantagenet family wars and it was no surprise to hear that King Henry had fallen sick whilst at Le Mans where he had been born. He and Richard were in the middle of a horrendous brawl over succession, with Phillip of France siding with Richard. Phillip and Richard attacked the town, and feckless, disloyal Henry ordered parts of his birth place to be burned to stall their invasion. But even a king could not control the wind which changed and caused a massive conflagration, threatening to burn his birthplace utterly. Henry fled. Leaving the town to put out its fires and lick its wounds. We had heard that Henry had retired to Chinon but his health failed by the day and he died two days before we arrived at Le Mans. I was surprised the town thought to ring bells to mourn him. Guy said such was the power of a king.
What treats in amongst the drech of manuscript revision, the upsets with my dogs and the copious cooking required for shearing.
Last night I sat down for my regular hit of Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple on ABC-TV. It was, of course, a repeat. But there, lo, in a secondary role, was Richard Armitage. The first time I watched this series a couple of years ago, I didn’t know who Richard Armitage was and so his role passed me by. I think the production date was 2007 which may have been on the cusp of his rise. His face had less expression lines and his voice hadn’t quite the depth of later roles. And he was confined to a wheel-chair which reduced the expressiveness of his role even more. Having said that, the thing that I find most fascinating is watching how he has matured as an actor. This may well have been pre the seminal North and South.