Sir Guy of Gisbourne. A Medieval Assassin.

 

Sir Guy of Gisbourne. A Medieval Assassin.

 

In early legends of Robin Hood, Guy of Gisbourne is an assassin who tries to kill Robin, only for Robin to kill him. In these accounts, Guy is depicted wearing a robe made of horse hide, “topp and tayll and mayne.”  So very distinctive! As horse leather is also tough and hard-wearing, an assassin out in all weathers would find it useful.

 

In later stories, Guy is shown as keen to woo and win Maid Marian, but it is the assassin aspect of his character that intrigues me. In the west, the most famous assassins were those of the order of assassins, the Hashishiyun. Founded in the late eleventh century by the Persian Hasan as-Sabah, the order of the assassins soon became notorious for their obedience to their master and their deterination to kill their opponents, whatever the personal cost. It was believed that to aid their goals, the assassins would use drugs such as hashish (cannabis) to make them utterly fearless and ruthless.

 

Site of Alamut Castle in Iran

The Assassins were Shia Muslims and many of their killings took place within the Islamic kingdom to remove political and religious enemies. From his stronghold in Alamut Castle in Persia (Iran) the Grand Master of the Order, who became known as The Old Man of the Mountain, sent out his deadly emissaries. They killed by dagger, poison or arrows and murdered many men, including three caliphs and the King of Jerusalem, Conrad of Montferrat. Saladin, the Kurdish Sunni who fought against the crusaders, was twice targeted by the Assassins, who failed each time. After the second attempt, the Old Man of the Mountain and Saladin appear to have come to terms.

 

Nevertheless, the Assassins were feared. As an unknown poet of the middle ages said, “By a single warrior on foot, a king may be struck with terror, though he may own more than 100,000 horsemen.”

 

I have an assassination attempt in my romance, “The Snow Bride,” and have included an excerpt.

 

Excerpt.          

 

He heard a faint click and creak behind him and knew at once it was a bow and arrow being readied and aimed. There was no game in the wastes and thickets of hazel ahead, so he must be the target.

Before he completed his conscious thought, he had reacted, dragging his left foot out of its stirrup and head-butting down into the snow, not considering the speed of his cantering horse or where he might land. Snow-crusted brambles snagged and broke his fall, and as he urged his flailing limbs to roll away, he felt the vane of the arrow score the top of his shoulder, where the middle of his back would have been.

“Magnus’s! Areee yeee weeeeelllll?”  

Gregory Denzil’s question crawled from his mouth as the world about Magnus slowed into thick honey. As his jaw crunched against a branch and threatened to loosen more teeth, he felt a trickle of blood run into his eye.

He compelled his sluggish body to sit up, a devil caught in a thicket. He knew he would make that picture, and he grinned, raising an arm to his men and yelling, “Hola! What a ride!”

Denzil and his mob nudged their horses closer. Mark had already leapt from his own with his hunting spear aimed at Denzil's throat. Magnus stood up, cursing with all the oaths of Outremer he could remember, and looked around him. His own men were honestly puzzled, while Denzil's wore expressions of studied innocence.

“Not a good time for archery practice,” he said. All good fun, all men together.

Denzil smiled thinly. “A fool, too eager for sport.”

“Indeed.” As an assassination attempt, Magnus rated it as poor to moderate, but Gregory Denzil had always been lazy. And in the clustered mass of hunters, he saw no skinny stranger with distinctive rings.

“Time to go on?” he asked, knowing if he suggested it, Denzil would say the opposite, which he did.

“We go back.”

 

 

 

The Snow Bride: To buy on Amazon https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07VSHHX4N

 

 

Two Literary Houses and an Interesting Museum with an amazing Treasure

 Recently my husband and I attended a family wedding. We drove from Yorkshire and stayed in a cottage in the village of Chawton in Hampshire, almost next door to the house where Jane Austen lived.

Chawton is a delightful country village, close to the market town of Alton. The manor house where Jane Austen's brother Edward sometimes lived lies a short walk away and Jane knew it well. Her sister and mother are buried close by,  in the grounds of St Nicholas' Church, and you can see their well-tended graves.

The cottage where Jane lived with her sister Cassandra and her mother and where she revised Sense and Sensibility and Pride and Prejudice and wrote Mansfield Part, Emma and Persuasion, is airy and spacious with beautiful gardens. Inside you can see the tiny table on which Jane wrote her novels. Chawton itself was within walking or donkey-cart distance of Alton and a surprisingly bustling place in Jane's time since the main coach road ran through the village.

Four miles from Chawton in Selborne, the house of the naturalist Gilbert White is larger, with extensive gardens. You can see his study and writing desk. I would have liked to have walked up the Hanger on the path Gilbert White made but sadly could not - I had a chest infection and was too ill. But an interesting visit, nonetheless.

On one of my better days, when I wasn't coughing so much, we also visited Alton and Alton Museum. This is a wonderful place, full of fascinating exhibits dating from the Stone Age onwards. Being especially intrigued by the Middle Ages, I loved the Anglo-Saxon gold Alton buckle. This had obviously a much-treasured item, as it had been carefully repaired. [Picture from Hampshire Council's pages for Alton Museum.]

I admit I have a love of gold, and the gold work of the Anglo-Saxons and earlier is impressive. I reference those treasures in my sweet Christmas Medieval Romance, "Sir Conrad and the Christmas Treasure."

Here is an excerpt, in the viewpoint of the hero, Conrad, where he and others are considering a great golden torc. I had in my mind the Snettisham gold torc when I wrote my story, and you can see a photo of that find below.

Excerpt.

Curious where he had not been greatly intrigued before, merely staying with Maggie to ensure she was safe, Conrad waited for the smoke of the priest’s spitting, damp torch to settle, and then looked for himself.

So much bright gold, was his first thought, while Richard, naturally stretched out sticky fingers to paw at the pieces and Earl John intoned, “Roman, or earlier, and fit for a king.”

"This is the holy moon torc of Saint Oswald!” snapped the priest, keen to put the church’s ownership beyond doubt, “Discovered in a pond near here by my great-grandfather!”

"I have heard tell of such sacred wonders before,” said Conrad, hoping to prevent the priest and earl from saying more in anger or gold-greed that they could not take back.

“It was a woman’s,” said Maggie softly beside him, glancing once at him to share her thought. 

Wishing everyone a golden holiday season and a bright new year.

Lindsay Townsend