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| visiting around and about, wandering here and there... |
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| Frederiksborg Palace, Denmark |
Frederiksborg Slot, the largest Renaissance
palace in Scandinavia, sits beside a lake about 25 miles north of Copenhagen near
the town of Hillerød. I visited there on
a chilly September day knowing absolutely nothing about the building or its Renaissance
history. Mind you, I knew plenty about Denmark’s Viking Age history, having
spent years researching and writing a trilogy of historical novels set during
the 11th century Danish conquest of England. Just that morning I had
been to Roskilde’s cathedral where the viking king Swein Forkbeard is said to have
been buried, and to the Viking Ship Museum where I paced the deck of a
re-constructed dragon ship. Frederiksborg, though, was from a much later
period, and although I was curious to see it, I thought it unlikely that I
would find anything even remotely Viking there. Yet Frederiksborg had some
surprises in store for me that made it the most memorable visit of that day.
The slot (castle) was built in the early 17th century by King Christian IV to flaunt his status as a great European monarch. But as I gazed at its dark brick façade beneath somber grey clouds, it struck me as more menacing than magnificent.
Today the palace houses Denmark’s Museum of
National History, and as I followed a printed guide through its elegant
chambers I learned—my first surprise—that although the castle’s forbidding
walls were 17th century, most of the interior had been destroyed by
fire in 1859, so what I was seeing was 19th century restoration. Only
the audience chamber and the chapel—rooms shimmering with gold—had survived the
conflagration. I remember that chapel most vividly, because when I entered
through a door on the upper floor I had a breathtaking view of gilding all
around me.
The chapel’s ornate wooden organ, built by
Esaias Compenius in 1610, is one of Fredericksborg’s greatest treasures. Resembling
an intricately carved giant cabinet when it is locked up, on this day it was open,
and as the organist filled the chapel with music I saw, to my astonishment, that
there was a man behind the instrument working its giant bellows with levers. Four
hundred years old, and the organ still sounds glorious although it takes two
people to play it.
I continued my tour, strolling through massive
rooms filled with furnishings and paintings until in one narrow passageway I halted
abruptly, struck by the sight of a large stone monument that I recognized from my
Viking research. It was a life-sized replica of the Viking Age Jelling Stone.
Unlike the photographs in my research books, though, it was not weathered and
gray but painted in brilliant reds, blues and yellows—just as it probably looked
when first erected by Harald Bluetooth in the 10th century. The vivid
colors made its swirling lines seem to leap out at me, and I had no doubt that,
like King Christian, King Harald had been trying to impress!
The final surprise of the day was one I nearly missed. I had returned my guide to the kiosk near the entry when I noticed a long corridor that hadn’t been part of the tour. This, I discovered, was The King’s Hallway, and on one wall was a photocopy of the Bayeux Tapestry. Facing it were a number of large paintings by 19th century artist Lorenz Frolich, each painting bearing elaborate descriptions in Danish. A familiar English place name, though, jumped out at me: ASSANDUN—the site of the final battle of the Danish Conquest of England in 1016.
I carefully studied each painting. Figures
from the 11th century—characters who filled the pages of my
novels—strode upon the wall before me: Swein Forkbeard, Cnut, Thorkell the
Tall, Edmund Ironside, Eadric Streona. In one painting a widowed Queen Emma
gave her hand in marriage to a strapping young Cnut, bringing peace to her
war-weary people.
Frolich, I realized, had memorialized the
Danish Conquest of England. He had portrayed in paint the events that I had
spent the last decade depicting in words. He had, essentially, illustrated my
novels. And for 130 years his brilliant work had been at Fredericksborg Slot, just
waiting for me to discover it.
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| The first in a new series of quick-read, cosy mysteries set in the 1970s. A Mirror Murder https://getbook.at/MirrorMurder |
Eighteen-year-old library assistant Jan Christopher’s life is to change on a rainy Friday evening in July 1971, when her legal guardian and uncle, DCI Toby Christopher, gives her a lift home after work. Driving the car, is her uncle’s new Detective Constable, Laurie Walker – and it is love at first sight for the young couple.
But romance is soon to take a back seat when a baby boy is taken from his pram, a naked man is scaring young ladies in nearby Epping Forest, and an elderly lady is found, brutally murdered...
Are the events related? How will they affect the staff and public of the local library where Jan works – and will a blossoming romance survive a police investigation into murder?
Reviews
“A delightful read about an unexpected murder in North East London.” Richard Ashen (South Chingford Community Library)
“Lots of nostalgic, well-researched, detail about life in the 1970s, which readers of a certain age will lap up; plus some wonderful, and occasionally hilarious, ‘behind the counter’ scenes of working in a public library, which any previous or present-day library assistant will recognise!” Reader Review
and...COMING SOON
A new edition with new additional scenes - launching 21st June - e-book available for pre-order (paperback to follow soon!) https://viewbook.at/WhenMermaidSings
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