In studying the 1511 Westminster
Tournament Roll, which captured in a series of images the celebratory jousts
held to welcome Henry’s short-lived son, the “New Year’s Prince” into the
world, I encountered a figure who has recently come under serious scholarly
scrutiny. John Blanke - a tiny figure depicted twice, blowing his trumpet from
the vellum margins of the narrative images - has the distinction of being one
of the first (if not the first) black people in England whose name was
recorded. Thus, he has recently sparked interest as scholars have scrambled to
discover how he came to be depicted as a member (albeit a minor one) of Henry’s
court, and how he came to be in England at all. The consensus is that he
probably arrived with the retinue of Henry’s first wife, Katherine of Aragon
(who hailed from a united Spain which had conquered the “Moors” and begun
transporting slaves from North Africa).
John’s story, however, wasn’t
mine to tell. Again, though, history was kind; not only did John marry but he
probably married an Englishwoman (we know, for example, that he was given gifts
from the Tudors on the occasion of his wedding and that he had the clout to ask
for higher wages - and there is no record of any black women in England during
his time in service). As he disappears from the record in the late 1510s, I was
left with - if you’ll excuse the pun - a blank.
I was also left with an idea. If John Blanke married an Englishwoman, it is possible - even likely - that the aim was to produce children (marriages in the period being generally more for the purposes of procreation than love or companionship). Any resulting child, born of two races, had a story I knew I could tell. Suddenly, given my own heritage (my mum being from Pollok and my dad from Mauritius!), I had a character I knew I could write - and one with ties, via his father, to the court of Henry VIII.
Devising and plotting any murder mystery relies on the construction of a detective figure, whether an amateur or a professional: we all know Holmes, Miss Marple, Hercule Poirot, and Lord Peter Wimsey. If writing a mystery set in the sixteenth century, one is virtually forced to go down the amateur route; there was no police force in Tudor England and there were no professional detectives.
What there was, however, was a great deal of law (even if it seems there was
often very little justice). Henry VIII’s England, indeed, had officers at every
level: urban aldermen; city watchmen (often respectable homeowners who farmed
out the actual work to inferiors); local justices of the peace; constables;
march wardens; churchwardens (who worked in and with ecclesiastical courts,
whose jurisdiction covered spiritual crimes, such as adultery); and coroners
(who were appointed rather than trained, and who held juried inquests into
unexplained deaths). Yet the actual grind of investigative work was essentially
up for grabs; a killer was, in all likelihood, going to get away with his or
her crimes if those questioned at the inquest stage either fingered the wrong
person or had no idea how a victim came to die. In order to be caught, a
murderer very often had to be caught in the act or to have left a clear trail
of evidence.
Into this confused world I
launched Anthony Blanke, son of John, who follows in his father’s footsteps in
working for the great (if not the good) in the 1520s – these the boon days of
Henrician England, when Reformation was only distantly on the horizon. Once
again, history – particularly that Westminster Tournament Roll – was good to
me. On looking at it again, it struck me that a marginal figure (as Anthony
Blanke would have to be, in various ways) was best placed to observe the
comings and goings at his master, Cardinal Wolsey’s court. What better figure
than a trumpeter, paid to be heard and not seen, and to lurk in alcoves and
doorways, to spot shady dealings and piece together clues? I hope those who
read “Of Blood Descended” find him and his world as much fun as I did.
Spring, 1523. Henry VIII readies
England for war with France. The King’s chief minister, Cardinal Wolsey,
prepares to open Parliament at Blackfriars. The eyes of the country turn
towards London. But all is not well in Wolsey’s household. A visiting critic of
the Cardinal is found brutally slain whilst awaiting an audience at Richmond
Palace. He will not be the last to die. Anthony Blanke, trumpeter and groom, is
once again called upon to unmask a murderer. Joining forces with Sir Thomas
More, he is forced to confront the unpopularity of his master’s rule. As the
bodies of the Cardinal’s enemies mount up around him, Anthony finds himself
under suspicion. Journeying through the opulence of More’s home, the
magnificence of Wolsey’s York Place, and the dank dungeons of London’s gaols,
he must discover whether the murderer of the Cardinal’s critics is friend or
foe. With time running out before Parliament sits, Anthony must clear his name
and catch the killer before the King’s justice falls blindly upon him.
More
information about Steven Veerapen and his books can be found on his website. You can also follow him on
X @stevenveerapen.
