A Novel Conversation with Helen Hollick and Queen Emma

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To be a little different from the usual 
'meet the author' 

let's meet a 
character...
Queen Emma of Saxon England

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Q: Hello, I’m Helen, host of Novel Conversations, please do make yourself comfortable. Would you like a drink? Tea, coffee, wine – something stronger? You’ll find a box of chocolates and a bowl of fruit on the table next to you, please do help yourself. I believe you are a character in Helen Hollick’s novel A Hollow Crown (titled The Forever Queen in the USA) The Would you like to introduce yourself? Are you a lead character or a supporting role?  

A: Good morrow. I have not heard of tea, coffee or chocolate. I assume these are some form of foreign consumables? I will try the tea, and perhaps a chocolate...  [eats one] or two ... I am, indeed, the lead character in the novel you mention, although I am also a real figure from history. I am Emma of Normandy, Queen of England in the eleventh century.

Q: What genre is the novel and what is it about?

A: I believe it is termed historical biographical fiction. The facts of my life when I was Queen of England with fictional additions to fill in the many gaps. I find it very annoying that the scribes of my time did not elaborate more on the events of my life but, [sighs] it was the monks who wrote these things, and alas they did not believe women to be as important as the men. [Snorts derision] Huh – where would the men have been without us?

Q: No spoilers, but are you a ‘goodie’ or a ‘baddie’? (Or maybe you are both?)

A: I suppose that depends on which viewpoint you take. My enemies, one of whom was my own son, would say I was an interfering witch. Others would say I was a fair but good queen. [shrugs] I tried my best.

Q:  Tell me about another character in the novel – maybe your best friend, lover or partner … or maybe your arch enemy!

A: Cnut, King of England, my second husband, I loved beyond imagination. I loathed my first, Æthelred – God’s breath but he was a useless king and a useless husband. My son, Edward, took after him in every inch of character, which is why, I suppose, we did not get on. As for my enemy though – ah she has to be that bitch  Ælfgifu of Northampton. First wife to my dear Cnut and mother to that wretched bastard Harold Harefoot. Is it any surprise that I name her? She ordered the blinding of my other son, Alfred. The poor, foolish, lamb died in agony of his wounds. And then she was behind the stealing of my son Harthacnut’s crown – usurping his place to put that wretch Harefoot on the throne of England. [She smiles with a hint of triumph] Such a pity he died unexpectedly after only a few years of his reign!

Q: Is this the only novel you have appeared in, or are there others in a series?

A: I was in the second book of the duo – although Mistress Hollick wrote the second one first. This was her novel about Harold Godwineson and the events that led to the Battle of Hastings in 1066. I played an important part in the first half of the book as mother of Edward – why he became known as 'The Confessor' in later years I have never understood. 'Edward the Useless' or 'Edward the Impotent' would be more appropriate.

Q: What is one of your least favourite scenes you appear in?

A: There are quite a few, some that sadden me greatly, some that as greatly make my blood rise with anger. One is how it all began, the day I arrived in the English town of Canterbury and saw for the first time the man who was to be my husband. I was but ten and three years of age. He was old enough to be my grandfather.

Q: And your favourite scene?

A: I have several of those as well, some out of mere fondness, some out  of the memory of happiness and love. I will tell you of one that terrified yet excited me in equal measure: the day I made my mind that England could afford no more war, when London was in imminent danger of falling to the besieging Danes. I was a widow, my sons had been sent to safety in Normandy. Cnut, the King of Denmark would become King of England, whether I, my people, liked it or no. I had to stop the bloodshed. [Emma’s eyes shine, her breath quickens at the memory] I went to talk with Cnut in his encampment. I had a proposition, one which, I think, surprised him to the core. I suggested that to be a good, beloved King of England he had to fear God, rule well and become more English than the English.

“And how am I to do that?” he had asked.

I recall feeling sick to my stomach, fighting the urge to run at the thought of what I was about to say, do...

“By making me your wife,” I said.

In hindsight, these were the best, dearest words I had ever spoken.

Q: Tell me a little about your author. Has she written any other books?

A: Oh many. A trilogy about King Arthur, the one I mention above, and an adventure series about a rogue of a pirate. Visit her website or take a look at this ‘blog’ do you call it?

Q: Is your author working on anything else at the moment?

A: Yes, she’s trying to get the sixth of her pirate nautical adventures written, and a few entertaining short stories.  

Q: How do you think authors can be helped or supported by readers or groups? What does your author think is the most useful for her personally?

A: Nice reviews on the place called Amazon (is it a place of worship? I hear people tend to revere or curse it?)  And word of mouth – to tell friends and family about good books worth reading. Hers especially.

Q: If your author was to host a dinner party what guests would she invite and why? Real, imaginary, alive or dead..

 I think she would invite fictional people, ones she has met and liked in novels.

 Susan Grossey's Mrs and  Constable Sam Plank  - because Martha is lovely and Sam is so kind and sensible

Anna Belfrage's Matthew and Alex Graham – because Alex is a time traveller and she is fascinating

 Aurelia, Carina and Conrad from Roma Nova by Alison Morton, because they are intriguing characters.

4The Walker family from Swallows and Amazons, to see what they are like as adults.

 Jill Crewe from ‘Jill’s Gymkhana’, to talk horses and see how she turned out in adulthood as well!

 Merlin from Mary Stewart’s Crystal Cave

 Sophie and Hector from Debbie Young's  Sophie Sayers Mysteries because they are such fun (despite the murders in the village!) - and Helen needs to persuade Hector to stock all the above books in his bookshop.

 One real person, sadly deceased: RosemarySutcliff because she is probably the best historical fiction writer ever

Thank you Emma, it was a pleasure talking to you. Would your author like to add a short excerpt? But meanwhile,  would you like more tea?

Emma: No thank you, I do not think I quite care for the taste, but I would very much like some more chocolate...

EXCERPT A Hollow Crown / The Forever Queen

April 1002 - Canterbury

Emma was uncertain whether it was a growing need to visit the privy, or the remaining queasiness of mal de mer, seasickness, that was making her feel so utterly dreadful. Or was it the man waiting at the top of the steps? The way he was looking at her, with the intensity of a hunting hawk, that was so unsettling? A man she had never seen until this moment, who was four and thirty years to her thirteen, spoke a language she barely understood and who, from the morrow, was to be her wedded husband.

     Spring. Three days after the celebration of the Easter Mass, in the year of Christ 1002. Her brother had agreed this marriage of alliance between England and his Duchy of Normandy for reasons of his own gain. Richard ruled Normandy, and his brood of sisters, with an iron will that imaged their father's ruthless determination. Their father, Richard's namesake, Emma had adored. Her brother, who thought only of his self-advancement, and little else, she did not.

     Her long fingers, with their bitten, uneven nails, rested with a slight tremble on Richard's left hand. Unlike her, he appeared calm and unperturbed as they ascended the flight of stone steps leading up to the great open-swung doors of the Cathedral of Canterbury. But why would Richard not be at ease? It was not he, after all, who was to wed with a stranger and be crowned as England's Queen.

With unbound, unveiled fair hair and her large shining eyes, Emma was passably pretty, but she was aware that Æthelred, surveying her from the top of the steps, was assessing that her legs were too long, her nose too large, her chin too pointed. Her breasts and hips not full and rounded. Her eldest sister had laughed when Emma had confided that she feared this Æthelred, King of England, would be disappointed with her. ‘Please him in bed, ma chérie, and no husband will ever be disappointed with a young bride!'

     Emma had not been convinced.

The drizzling rain had eased as the Norman entourage had ridden through Canterbury's gates, the mist, hanging across the Kent countryside like ill-fitted curtaining, not deterring the common folk from running out of their hovels to inspect her. England and the English might not hold much liking for the Normans and their sea-roving Viking cousins, but still they had laughed and applauded as she rode by; had strewn blossom and spring-green, new-budded branches in her path. They wanted peace, an end to the incessant i·víking raiding and pirating, to the killing and bloodshed. If a union between England and Normandy was the way to achieve it, then God's good blessings be upon the happy couple.

     Whether this marriage would be of lasting benefit and achieve that ultimate aim, no one yet knew. The Northmen, with their lust for plunder and going í-víking, were not easy to dissuade and the substantial wealth of England had been, for many years, a potent lure. For a while, though, when the Duke, in consequence of this wedding, denied them winter access to his Norman harbours, the raiders would search elsewhere for their ill-gotten gain or stay at home. Unless, of course, they elected to offer Richard a higher incentive than the one King Æthelred of England had paid.

If Emma minded being so blatantly used for political gain, it was of no consequence to anyone. Except to Emma herself.

     Æthelred was stepping forward, reaching out to take her hand, a smile on his face, crow's-foot lines wrinkling at his eyes. She took in his sun-weathered, leathery face and fair, curling hair that tumbled to his shoulders, a moustache trailing down each side of his mouth to run into a trimmed beard with flecks of grey hair grizzling through it. She sank into a deep reverence, bending her head to hide the heat of crimson that was suddenly flushing into her cheeks. At her side, Richard snorted, disgruntled that she should be greeted before himself. He had not wanted to escort her to England, had vociferously balked at meeting face to face with this English King.

     ‘I would not trust a man involved in the murder of his own brother to gain the wearing of a crown, any further than I could spew him.’ How often had Richard proclaimed that opinion on the dreadful sea crossing? If they were his thoughts about this King, then why, in the name of sweet Jesu, had he arranged for Emma to wed him? Why was she here, feeling awkward and uncertain, fearing to look up at the man who would soon be taking her innocence of maidenhood?

    Non, Richard had not wanted to come to England, but he had wanted to ensure that the agreed terms were fully honoured. Dieu! To collect and count the bride price! He needed the financial gain and the respectability this absurd marriage would bring. Needed the prestige of having his youngest sister wed to one of the wealthiest kings in all Europe.

     What if Æthelred was ugly? What if his breath and body stank worse than a six-month uncleaned pigpen? What if he does not like me? The questions had tumbled round and round in Emma's mind these three months since being told of the arrangement; had haunted her by night and day. She knew she had to be wed, Richard had been insistent on good marriages for all his sisters and it was a woman's duty to be a wife, to bear sons for her lord. Either that or drown in the monotonous daily misery of the nunnery. There would be no abbess's veil for Richard's sisters, though. He needed the alliances, the silver and the land. Normandy was a new young Duchy with no family honour or pride to fall back upon, only the hope of a future, which Richard was too impatient to wait for. This Emma understood but she had not expected to be bargained away so soon.

     From somewhere she had to gather the courage and dignity to look up, to smile at Æthelred…she clung to the talisman of her mother's last parting words, as if they were a cask of holy relics: ‘No matter how ill, how frightened or how angry you might be, child, censure your feelings. Smile. Hold your chin high, show only pride, nothing else. Fear and tears are to be kept private. You are to be crowned and anointed as Queen of England. The wife and mother of kings. Remember that.’

     She took a breath, swallowed. Looked up at the man standing before her. Looked at Æthelred, who was to be her husband, and knew, instantly, that she disliked him.

Website: www.helenhollick.net

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Main Blog: www.ofhistoryandkings.blogspot.com

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Discovering Diamonds Historical Fiction Review Blog (submissions welcome) : https://discoveringdiamonds.blogspot.co.uk/

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