Intriguing Historical Discoveries from the Rabbit Hole
by Wendy J. Dunn
One thing I really love about research is the simple fact of discovery. As a fiction writer, I know the risk of getting lost in rabbit holes of irrelevant information. But how do I know if the information is irrelevant unless I investigate it? When I write fiction, one vital reason I research is to feed and ignite my imagination. Some of those rabbit holes have indeed ended up enriching my storytelling.
From 2020 to 2022, I have had many reasons to burrow down those rabbit holes. Pen and Sword Books had commissioned me to write a book about Catherine Carey. Well – they had generously offered me three intriguing projects to pick from, and writing a full-length book about Catherine Carey intrigued me the most. How could it not? The teenage Catherine Carey was my point of view character in The Light in the Labyrinth. I loved her as a historical figure. I loved imagining her and her world in my novel about the final days of Anne Boleyn. But the chance to find out more about her both terrified (what happened if the Catherine revealed by more research was nothing like my imagined Catherine in The Light in the Labyrinth) and excited me.
My book, Henry VIII’s True Daughter, Catherine Carey, a Tudor Life, is now scheduled for publication at the end of November this year. Writing it not only increased my love for Catherine — she so deserves to be brought out of the shadows – but increased my knowledge about the many people in her life. One of them I plan to use for the point of view of character in the Elizabeth I novel I have wanted to write for decades. I just could never think of a fresh angle. But now my nonfiction book has provided me with what I believe is a perfect angle, and the perfect person to open the door to the world and life of Elizabeth I.
Another person also stepped out from my research. A person who will be important character in this future novel of mine, Dr John Dee.
Dee is a fascinating Tudor figure. He was a mathematician, astronomer, and occultist and also known for his lifelong study of alchemy and hermetic philosophy. John Dee served as an advisor to Queen Elizabeth I from the beginning of her reign, and most likely before she ascended the throne in 1558. Dee, a man of Welsh heritage, was born in London in 1527 and claimed kinship with Elizabeth Tudor. From his earliest years, Dee forged strong relationships with others who shared his passions and interests – both in England and Europe. He may have helped Elizabeth stay safe during Mary I's reign.
For years, the first decades and people of the 16th century have inspired my imagination. An even earlier time captured me for years, when I became committed to tell the tale of Katherine of Aragon’s growing-up years at the court of her mother, Isabel of Castile in Falling Pomegranate Seeds: The Duty of Daughters. That meant learning about Spain during the final years of the 15th century.
Learning about the reign of Elizabeth introduced me to John Dee years ago. But I confess I knew little about him. Before writing True Daughter, whenever I thought about him, I saw in my mind’s eye a man approaching his fifties at the beginning of Elizabeth’s reign. I think I may have allowed his long beard to mislead me. He wasn’t old in 1558. In July of that year, he celebrated thirty-one years of life.
So – now I am committed to another Tudor quest. I want to know more about this man who lived such a long life. He died over eighty — an amazing lifespan for a Tudor. A man who Elizabeth protected, respected, and allowed the freedom to pursue his own quest for knowledge that continued into the early years of the reign of witch-fearing James I.
I need to know more — not only for that future novel of mine. I already recognise Dee will play an important character in this tale that is only beginning to form in my imagination, and not only because he is an important player in the second nonfiction book I am now researching and writing for Pen and Sword Books.
Kate dreamt. She dreamt of Cranmer.
“I am a good man,” he said. “Good, but imperfect.” He smiled sadly at her. “We are all imperfect.”
“But are you not a man of God?” she asked.
He shook his head a little and rumbled out a deep laugh. “Do you think men of God are perfect? They are men like other men. I know my sins.”
The dream changed, and he wept in a beautiful garden. All around him, roses bloomed. He gestured to them. “Kate, another archbishop, a man who served men rather than the God he vowed his life to, planted the red and white roses in celebration, in tribute—to honour and mark the joining of two noble houses, Lancaster and Tudor. He had much to do with their joining. Look at them now. So many roses. See how the wind blows?”
All around them, red and white petals swirled.
Cranmer laughed a laugh that seemed more like a sob. “See how the white and red marry? So gently, so tenderly.” He rubbed at his face. “None of this belonged to that marriage of long ago; none belongs to this marriage I weep for now.”
The old man stood there, looking left and right, seeming uncaring of the tears running down his face. “See the petals, Kate. See the blood.”
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