The Restless Dead in the Middle Ages by Lindsay Townsend

Did people in the Middle Ages believe in ghosts? They certainly believed in restless spirits, which they called revenants, from the Latin meaning ‘to return’. It was believed that the unquiet dead, particularly those who had died by violence or by reason of a grudge, or those who would not give up strong passions and carnal pleasures, would return to haunt the living. These revenants might appear within a graveyard or in a particular area, known to them in life, and terrorize the living.

In 'Dark Maiden' I have a woman who is tormented by a lusty revenant who comes to her bed and tries to lie with her. Yolande, my heroine, learns that in this case the restless dead is the woman's husband. As an exorcist, Yolande takes certain steps to ensure that his widow is no longer plagued. You can find out what she does in the novel.

Here's an excerpt to give you a flavour. Yolande is talking to the villagers in their church. All the things she speaks of were believed or done in the Middle Ages.

“Godith, I have said it already. This is no vampire,” Yolande repeated for the third time.
       “How do you know that?”
       “Because there is no plague, pestilence or disease here. There is a restless soul, a revenant, yes, but one drawn by love and desire, not by hate.” Her lips quivered slightly, the only sign of tension in her. “I will write a letter of absolution and the soul will find his rest.”
       “Does that mean the dreams—”
       “Another matter altogether. I will work on that when I have finished with the revenant.”
       “Yet how can that be, and so simple? A letter?”
       “Being a sacred scribe is not simple,” Geraint put in. He wanted to wag a finger at the noisy goodwife, but confined  himself to folding his arms across his chest. “Can you write, Mistress Reeve?”
        Even in the dim orange flames, he could see Godith blush. “We heard his dogs outside,” she exclaimed, as indignant as a hen pushed off its nest and determined to have her say. “They come because they dread him and how is that good? How can he be good?”
       “Whose dogs?” Yolande stepped forward into the heart of the nave and bore down on Godith. “Was he a huntsman, a forester? I promise I will harm nothing, do no injury to any of your kin, be they living or passed on.”
        She stood tall and slim as a lily, a gentle dark Madonna. The drooping garland of Christmas roses hung from her belt like a perfumed cloud, the candle and brazier flames surrounded her like a halo. “Please, let me help you. Let me help this poor soul to his final, honored rest.”
        “He was a huntsman for our lord. Martin, his name was,” remarked a quiet, weary voice. “He was my husband. He owned the dogs, though they come to me now, and often not only them… We buried him last month by the church gate so he can see our house.”
        A squat ball of a woman pushed through the reluctant villagers, with a son and daughter trailing behind like ducklings. When she looked up at Yolande, Geraint saw the grooved shadows under the woman’s eyes and could not help but notice how her homespun dress bagged on her.
       Martin liked his woman very plump, but she has lost much flesh of late.
       “Perhaps we buried him too close,” she was saying. “He can find us—find me—so easily. Father William said he would rest.”
        Father William knows little of rest himself these days. Geraint disliked the clergy but even he could find a little pity for this less-than-holy father.
       “Daughter, I can give him peace,” Yolande said gently. “He loved you greatly, yes?” And more gently still, “He seeks to remain with you? By day and by night? Does he come as himself, or as shadow?”
       “Shadow. Ah God!” The woman shuddered and fresh tears burst from her. Yolande swiftly drew her aside to the south wall of the nave, talking to her and her children in a low, urgent way. Geraint could tell it by the set of her shoulders and by the way she lifted and stretched out both arms as if to shield the stricken family.
       “She yours?”
        Geraint deigned to glance at the smith, disliking the fellow already, the more so because the fellow was still looming in church. “My lady is her own.”
        “Bitten off more than she can chew here, I wager.”

More details of 'Dark Maiden' here

Read Chapter One

Lindsay Townsend

Ghosts, Graves, and Time Travel Along the Little Bighorn

Little Bighorn Battlefield

October 2017
We're standing on the top of a hill, my husband and I, looking down to where the Little Bighorn River winds through a ravine. This is the spot where Custer's men had been driven back by the warriors, preventing them from fording the river into the Indian camp full of women and children. The intense fighting that took place is hard to reconcile with the serenity of the place now. The sky is immense and bright blue. We're surrounded by fields of tall, golden grass. The landscape is so free of distraction that we watch the shadows of the clouds overhead snaking across the grass.
But suddenly, the peace is disturbed. I hear them before I see them: thundering hoof-beats coming right at us. The ground shakes under our feet as a herd of horses runs right past us, heading down the hill toward the river. 
I get a chill up my spine. This is one of the many sounds you would've heard that day in late June, 1876 if you'd been unlucky enough to have been a solider under Custer's command standing in this spot.

Horses roaming the park

When gold was discovered in the Black Hills and white settlers started pushing into Indian territory, conflict was inevitable. The US government set about to solve the Indian problem.
In what would turn out to be a last hurrah, a combined force of Cheyenne, Arapaho, and Lakota Indians gathered in one large camp under the great chiefs Sitting Bull, Gall, and Crazy Horse. The exact number of Indians is debatable, but there were thousands--perhaps as many as 8,000, with the camp stretching out over 3 miles along the Little Bighorn river.
Now, imagine you're a green solider (many of Custer's men were immigrants from Germany and Ireland who hadn't seen much frontier action until this day) and you come over a rise to see that vast camp spread out before you. I often wonder what thoughts ran through those men's heads as they realized they faced almost certain death--and there was going to be nothing peaceful about it.
Not only were the soldiers outnumbered, they were out-gunned. Recent archaeological work on the battle field, recovering spent shells, showed the Indians had superior fire power having repeating rifles. The soldiers were armed with single-shot Springfield rifles. Take a second and think about that. They had to reload after every shot--with thousands of warriors pouring out of the camp coming straight at them.
One misconception about the battle that is that the whole 7th cavalry was wiped out. It was not. The companies under Reno and Benteen fought elsewhere along the river, unaware of the fate of the 200 plus men fighting under Custer.
There were no survivors in the five companies under Custer that day. The battle ended quickly. One Crow chief said, the battle was over in "about as long as it takes for a hungry man to eat his dinner."
Days later, a group of soldiers came across the bloated and badly mutilated corpses of Custer's men. But fearing further attack, the detail only had time to cover the bodies as best they could, sticking tepee poles in the ground to mark the shallow graves. If a man could be identified, his name was written on a slip of paper and inserted in a shell casing. Some remains were never identified.
It took five years for those dead to get a proper burial. Storms and harsh weather kept churning the bodies up to the surface so that the ground was littered with the bones of men and horses. At some point white marble stones replaced wooden markers, which in turn came to replace tepee poles, which marked the spot where a soldier fell.

Where They Fell

Take a closer look at the miles of golden grass and you'll begin to pick out the white markers scattered around. Clustered together in some places, standing alone in others where a lone soldier either fled or fought for his life. It's a sobering sight, these seemingly endless and identical rectangles of white marble.
Only one marker is singled out. Captain Myles Keogh's marker, in the midst of his men, is flanked by flags. Born in Ireland, he fought in the Papal army in Rome before joining the Union Army in America during the Civil War. If you view Custer as the anti-hero, by contrast Keogh is remembered for his valor and decency. Incidentally his was the only body to not suffer ritual mutilation, which is one of the unanswered questions of the battle. One theory is he fought with such bravery, he earned the respect of the warriors. Native American accounts of that day single out an officer fitting Keogh's description. Keogh's horse, Comanche, though wounded, survived and was treated like a hero until his death in 1891. 
(There is some debate about the treatment of Custer's body after the battle, which is also sometimes said to have been left untouched. But, details of the mutilation he suffered may have been downplayed to spare his widow. But one story passed down is that Indian women put needles in his ears so that he might hear better in the next life.)

M.W. Keogh, Capt, Co 1, 7th Calvary, Fell here June 25, 1878

During the battle, Custer was pushed back to take up a defensive position on what would be called Last Stand Hill. There he and his men, sheltering behind a breastwork made from their dead horses, fought to the death. Custer's marker is distinguished by a black shield. He's not buried here, incidentally. His body was re-interred at West Point.

Last Stand Hill, Gen. Custer's Marker

It wasn't until 1881 that all the human remains were gathered and buried in one mass grave. A monument over the grave sits on top of Last Stand Hill. Though human bones continued to turn up in recent times.

7th Calvary Memorial

 While all these attempts to properly bury the white soldiers was going on over the years subsequent to the battle, the Indians were quietly remembering their fallen heroes in their own way. Stones cairns were placed to mark the spots warriors died. These warriors are known as the "Suicide Boys." The night before the battle 24 Sioux and Cheyenne vowed to fight to the death in the next battle with US soldiers and participated in a ritual--not knowing that the 7th cavalry was moving toward them at that moment. For decades the pact made by the Suicide Boys was a secret the Indians kept to themselves.
Attitudes about the park have changed along with its name from Custer Battlefield to Little Bighorn Battlefield, and in 1999, red granite markers replaced the stone cairns.

"A Minnikojou Lakota Warrior Fell Here On June 25, 1876 While Defending The Lakota Way Of Life."

Because we no longer think of this a tragedy that happened to General George Armstrong Custer, there is now a memorial to the tribes that fought that day. The park now acknowledges there were two sides to the conflict.

Indian Memorial, designed by Oglala Sioux artist Colleen Cutschall (alias Sister Wolf) 

And lest we forgot the other lives that were lost that day...

All the Horses

In 1886 the Custer National Cemetery opened on the edge of the battlefield for the burial of known and unknown veterans of our nation's wars and other distinguished individuals, among them men, women, children who died on isolated frontier posts, Indian scouts, and Medal of Honor recipients.

Custer National Cemetery

Buried here is one of Custer's Crow scouts, Curly. When the scouts came back with reports that there was the biggest Indian encampment they'd ever seen, Custer ignored them. Curly did not. He decided today was NOT a good day to die and took off. He survived to an old age, living in a cabin near the battlefield. (His cabin has been moved to Cody, Wy, Old Trail Town)

The Grave of Curly, Crow Scout 

Ghosts and such:

The Little Bighorn Battlefield is an atmospheric place, full of vibes on it's own, but with Halloween around the corner, let's talk about some of the ghosts stories.
If you don't believe in ghosts, fine. But, if you do...Of course, this place is haunted! If you had to make a recipe for hauntings this is it: sudden violent death, that release of intense energy into the scene, disturbed burials, body parts separated from buried, and then reburied bodies, and sad tales of heroism and lives cut short.

A lot of the weird happening seem to occur at the Stone House sitting on the edge of the cemetery. In the early years this building, which is now a library, housed the superintendents of the cemetery and later park staff. Bodies were stored here before burial...so, there's that as well.

The Stone House

The neighboring Crow called the superintendents of the cemetery "Ghost herders." They thought when the superintendent lowered the flag at dusk, it was the signal to the spirits to come out, and when he raised the flag in the morning, it was the cue to go back to their graves.
Among the strange things that happened at the stone house are lights that go on and off by themselves on the second floor and heavy footsteps on that floor when nobody is up there.
One man woke up to feel the his bed sink as if someone sat down there. When he sat up, he saw the torso of a soldier, sans head and limbs, walk across the room and through the wall.
Another woman reported waking up one night to find a soldier with a handlebar mustache and an anguished expression on his face sitting at the kitchen table as if he were trying to convey to her the horror he'd witnessed. The next day while getting a tour of the grounds she heard the story of Lt. Benjamin Hodgson who was killed on the banks of the river after his horse was shot out from under him. With a broken leg, he grabbed onto the stirrup of another passing horse and managed to cross the river, only to be shot dead on the other side. Curious about him, the woman asked to see a picture of Hodgson. When she was shown the picture later, it was the man who sat at her table the night before.
To me, one of the creepier stories at the Stone House involved a TV. The wife of one of the staffers was watching TV when the screen went black and a voice came out of the TV repeating, "second floor, second floor."
Apart from the Stone House, soldiers have been seen wandering around the visitor center, passing through walls and such.
A Crow woman who lived near by and was out one night saw two warriors in full battle regalia on horseback on the top of a ridge. One even sat up in his saddle to get a better look at her. Were they two of the Suicide Boys? She thought so.
The strangest story by far is the story of the disappearing tourist. A cab driver from New Orleans went missing for a couple of hours. He resurfaced ashen and terrified, claiming he had been transported back in time to the day of the battle.

Have you been to the Little Big Horn Battlefield or any other place that evoked strong emotion in you?

(all pictures courtesy of the author)

A Medieval Female Exorcist - Dark Maiden. Historical Romance by Lindsay Townsend

Yolande, the heroine of my latest medieval historical romance novel, 'Dark Maiden' is an exorcist. Her father, who was born in Ethiopia (a country with very ancient Christian roots) was an exorcist. Her mother was born in York.

As is now being discovered, there were people of African descent living and working in Britain, especially in cities and ports like York. Archaeology discovered a Romano-British grave in York where a woman of black African and mixed race heritage had been buried in a rich tomb with grave goods. Archaeology also uncovered a tomb of a man of north African descent buried at a medieval friary in Suffolk, England, close to the port of Ipswich. According to bone specialists he had a bad back! The thirteenth century statue of Saint Maurice in Magdeburg cathedral in Germany clearly shows him as African.

Half-African, half-English, Yolande is the dark maiden of the title, a spiritual wanderer and warrior, helping those tormented by the restless dead and assisting the restless dead themselves to find final peace. She lives and works in England during the time of the Black Death.

Statue of St. Maurice at Magdeburg

I chose this time period quite carefully. Women during the Middle Ages could not be priests but during the period of the Black Death, when thousands died, including hundreds of priests, the church allowed women to take confessions from dying people. In early 1349 the bishop of Bath and Wells wrote to his priests to encourage all men to confess, before they were taken by the pestilence. He added that if they had no priest they should follow the teaching of the Apostles and confess to each other 'or, if no man is present, even to a woman'.  (From translation in Philip Zeigler, The Black Death, page 125).

Medieval people also believed that in a crisis anyone, priest or lay person, could perform an exorcism because every Christian has the power to command demons and drive them away in the name of Christ.  I took these ideas and developed them, allowing my Yolande to become an exorcist.

In 'Dark Maiden' I have Yolande and Geraint  (a travelling player who becomes her friend, help-mate, lover and finally husband) face several encounters with both restless spirits and also demons. My ideas have always been shaped by the real beliefs of the time. So in 'Dark Maiden' there are evil spirits, restless ghosts called revenants, an incubus and vampires - all paranormal creatures with a medieval slant.

I'll talk about these in other blog articles.

Read Chapter One

Lindsay Townsend

Open secrets and opening lines

   

I can't believe we're into the third week of 2017  already, and I have nothing to talk about.

Well, I do, but I doubt if you want to hear much about my latest house project—removing painted-over wallpaper from the dining room. Let’s face it, that’s about as interesting as watching paint dry. 

However, “have you ever painted over wallpaper?” is my new litmus tests for friends, lovers and politicians.

And there is a wrong answer to that question.

On the writing front, as I worked on revisions, I discovered why Dead Aunt Charlotte is haunting the family. Not because they never found her body, which is what the family thinks, but because the family never found Charlotte’s child.

When Charlotte died in the 1920s, unexpected pregnancies were hidden, bastard children were put up for adoption once they were born, and no one ever talked about it. More frequently, there were a lot of babies born six or seven months after the marriage.  

Of course none of my readers would blink an eye at a single, wealthy woman having a child, so explaining why this is a big deal without preaching will be tricky—particularly because it’s a minor thread in the overall story but she’s critical to the resolution.

Even trickier will be doing this without an info-dump.

But I’m excited about this development and the ensuing challenge. I'm fascinated by the 1920s. I like the clothes, the shoes (really like the shoes) and the hats. 

As a result, I have done way more research than my minor ghostly characters deserves. I’ve discovered that like now social acceptability of sexual mores varies by social-economic status. 

In the medieval times, the wealthier or more noble you were, the greater the risk of stepping outside of expected behavior. By the early 1920s century, it was just the opposite. Wealth served to insulate you from public censure, and Dead Aunt Charlotte could afford to keep her child hidden.

And now for something fun... post the opening line of your work-in-progress. I'll start: 

“Mom is naked. Again.”

Eden Rivers tripped up the old step, dropping her walking pole in the stumble. Balancing on one foot, she caught her breath and turned to her sister. “What?”

“She’s weeding the begonias au naturel.”