Why I Had to Write a Tudor Novel ~ by Vivienne Brereton

I have lived and breathed the Tudors since I was a small child.According to my parents, I used to talk about them so much they nicknamed me ‘the little Tudor madam’. My interest in the period only increased and I ended up doing a degree in Medieval History. With an emphasis on the Tudors, of course!

Many years on (jobs that always involved the spoken or written

The Field of Cloth of Gold

word; travels in several countries; a husband and three sons), I’ve settled in France, and have written a novel that is set in Tudor England, Stewart Scotland, Valois France, and the Burgundian Netherlands. I have always been fascinated by The Field of Cloth of Gold and used it as the backdrop to my story. ‘A Phoenix Rising’ is the first in a series entitled ‘The House of the Red Duke’ (the house being the famous House of Howard, linked to Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard, and many other notable members of the family through to the present day).

At the centre of ‘A Phoenix Rising’ is Thomas Howard,

Thomas Howard

grandfather to two Tudor Queens: Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard. Every thread of the novel eventually comes back to him. He was a remarkable old man, living until he was eighty which was a miracle in itself in those days of much shortened life spans. He was at court during the reigns of six kings, and served four of them to the best of his ability.

Deciding I wanted a wider canvas on which to display my characters, I chose to focus on several characters and four European courts. Using different viewpoints kept the story very fresh and exciting for me, as did geographical location, not knowing whether I’d be spending the day in Henry VIII’s court; standing atop a quoit in Cornwall; galloping flat out across the French countryside near Calais; or lifting a spoon to taste a new delicacy in the kitchens of Hampton Court Palace.

I have tried very hard to bring the period to life and have even included some recipes (tried and tested by me) for the reader’s enjoyment. For my research, I read countless books on the time, on all aspects of life in the sixteenth century; watched films and TV series; visited period houses in France, Scotland, and England; places of interest, art galleries, museums - attended a joust here or there. I had great fun finding the exact colour that Henry VIII would have worn at the Field of the Cloth of Gold, or what time the French King got up in the morning. Many of the better-known names are in the novel: Thomas Wolsey, Thomas More, the Boleyn family, Charles Brandon. As well as some not so well-known ones here in France and up in Scotland.

For me, a historical novel is all about capturing the colours, the smells, the taste, the feel and the sounds of the period. Writing it was exciting because it helped me live it. If you’d like to come and party like it’s 1520, Check out Book One, ‘A Phoenix Rising’.

I’d like to finish by thanking Originality by Design for inviting me onto their Blog today.

Here is a short excerpt to give a flavour of the novel. It comes from

the opening pages of the Prologue where we meet Edward Howard, Thomas’s second son, and Grace Tredavoe, daughter of a Cornish nobleman, engaged in a secret tryst in Zennor Castle, at the furthermost tip of Cornwall. They are a young couple, madly in love, but it is clear they have obstacles to overcome as challenging as Romeo and Juliet who came before them…. 

“She reached out to touch his cheek. ‘If only we’d known each other then, matters would be so much simpler now.’
Noticing a tiny frown on the girl’s smooth brow, he took the goblet from between her fingers and set it down. ‘Don’t fret, Grace. Father won’t refuse me. I’m his favourite son.’
‘What of my father?’
‘He’ll be pleased you’ve made such a good match.’
‘Better than—’
‘Yes! Far better than him.’

* * *

They fell silent for a few moments, the air between them thick with unspoken words; from the great hall below, came the faint sound of drums and the strains of a hurdy gurdy, interspersed with gales of laughter from the revellers.

The boy nodded towards the door, a thick swathe of dark chestnut hair falling across his face. ‘“Le branle des chevaux” {‘the horses’ brawl’}. Your brother seems to be leading everyone a merry dance in his role of Lord of Misrule. What luck he managed to find the bean in the Twelfth Night cake.’

His companion gave a mischievous giggle. ‘I confess luck has very little to do with it. Will and I long ago decided that finding the bean should be a matter of family honour.’

‘I see. Then we’re very well matched. Your family and mine. A Tredavoe and a Howard. I’d love to see you as the Lady of Misrule.’

‘You will,’ she said, stroking his hair, ‘but not tonight.’

He grasped her fingers in his and kissed them one by one. ‘No, not tonight. I only hope we haven’t been missed in the great hall.’

‘Oh, Ned, why can’t we just run away and find a priest?’ 

The girl gave another shiver and the boy pulled her closer to his chest. ‘My love, a Howard never runs away, I’ve learned that from my father. He’s never run away from anything in his whole life. And he always gets up to fight another day. I’ve told him he reminds me of a phoenix rising from the ashes.’

‘Here, let me prove my love for you.’ He bent over her and grazed her lips with his own, a laugh catching in his throat. ‘My sweeting tastes of honey, cinnamon and ginger, with a hint of saffron.’ He placed one hand on his heart: ‘“Her mouth was as sweet as any mead whatever.” So wrote that clever poet, Geoffrey Chaucer.’ He drew her to him again. ‘With this kiss I plight my troth.’ 

Entwining her arms around his neck, the girl returned his long embrace with equal passion.

* * *

At length, when they were both left gasping for breath, he broke away. Picking up a strand of her long flaxen hair, he wound it tightly around the fourth finger of her left hand. ‘Some say this finger has a vein that leads straight to the heart.’

The girl’s green eyes flashed. Wiggling her finger, she traced a path downwards from her chin to her chest. ‘See. Mine has.’

‘Soon you’ll be one of us.’

‘A Howard?’

‘Yes. My wife. Grace Tredavoe no more.’

She let out a long sigh of contentment. ‘I can almost hear the King’s herald announcing our arrival in the great hall at Westminster for the Christmas celebrations.’ Pretending to hold up a trumpet, she adopted a suitably deferential tone: “Your Majesties, may I present Lord Edward Howard—”’ 

He laughed. ‘“And Lady Grace How—”’

‘We’ll be dressed in such finery and look so happy that the King will—’ 

‘Immediately send me to the Tower for my impudence. Henry Tudor abhors any attempt to outdo him.’

The girl let out a gasp. ‘Don’t ever say that again, Ned. Not even in jest. Promise me.’ 

‘I promise. But Father has taught us never to be afraid of anything or anyone. Certainly not of the King. He calls him “Goose” behind his back.’”

Born near historic Winchester in the UK, Vivienne Brereton has

Vivienne Brereton

been passionate about the Tudors for as long as she can remember. This led to a degree in medieval history at university where she met her future husband. Three sons later and six countries she called home, she finally felt ready to write a novel. 

Words have always played an important part in Vivienne’s life whether it’s been writing, editing, teaching English to foreigners, or just picking up a good book. In preparation for her novel, she read intensively on the skills needed to write well and did an enormous amount of research which she greatly enjoyed. Having three sons was helpful when she came to write about the characters, Tristan and Nicolas. All those squabbles she had to deal with came in very handy. She also used her husband and sons as guinea pigs for her Tudor cookery attempts with varying degrees of success (abuse). 

Seeing ‘A Phoenix Rising’ in print for the first time was a moment of great joy for her and she hopes you enjoy reading it as much as she enjoyed writing it.

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