Showing posts with label England. Show all posts
Showing posts with label England. Show all posts

Thursday, October 14, 2021

New Release: Her Secret War by Pam Lecky


 HER SECRET WAR 
Pam Lecky

Published by: Avon Books UK/Harper Collins

Release date: 14th October 2021

 

 A life-changing moment

May 1941: German bombs drop on Dublin taking Sarah Gillespie’s family and home. Days later, the man she loves leaves Ireland to enlist.

A heart-breaking choice

With nothing to keep her in Ireland and a burning desire to help the war effort, Sarah seeks refuge with relatives in England. But before long, her father’s dark past threatens to catch up with her.

A dangerous mission

Sarah is asked to prove her loyalty to Britain through a special mission. Her courage could save lives. But it could also come at the cost of her own…
  
A gripping story that explores a deadly tangle of love and espionage in war-torn Britain, perfect for fans of Pam Jenoff, Kate Quinn, and Kate Furnivall.


Click HERE to purchase.


 

Pam Lecky

Connect with Pam


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Monday, April 27, 2020

The Briton and the Dane: Timeline by Mary Ann Bernal






Dr. Gwyneth Franger is a renowned expert in early medieval England who is set upon learning the truth about the death of Lord Erik, the last descendant of the powerful House of Wareham.  Her quest becomes an obsession, a condition that began with the discovery of a portrait of the tall and valiant warrior with which she forms an extraordinary and inexplicable bond.

Digesting troves of mildewed scrolls and source documentation only enhances her belief that Lord Erik was brutally assassinated by a cabal of traitors in the pay of William the Bastard, shortly before the onslaught of the Norman Invasion.

On an archeological dig in Southern England, her team unearths an Anglo-Saxon fortress, a vast citadel built during the reign of Alfred the Great, which she believes was Lord Erik’s stronghold.  In the midst of her excitement, she is awakened one night from her slumbers by a disconcerting anomaly emerging from the site.

Dr. Franger finds herself transported back to the Dark Ages and at the side of the noble Lord Erik who commands an army of elite Saxon warriors, a swift and mobile force able to deploy quickly throughout the kingdom to ward off invaders.

Witnessing the unrest firsthand, Gwyneth senses that her instincts had been right all along, and she is determined to learn the identities of the treacherous blackguards hiding in the shadows, villains who may well be posing as Lord Erik’s friends and counselors.

Will Gwyneth stop the assassins?  Is she strong enough to walk away and watch her beloved Erik die?  Or will she intervene, change the course of history and wipe out an entire timeline to save the man she loves with all her heart?




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Tuesday, February 11, 2020

The Briton and the Dane by Mary Ann Bernal




King Alfred the Great has thwarted the Viking threat against his kingdom of Wessex. Signing a treaty with the formidable Danish King Guthrum, he succeeds in pushing the heathen army back to the rolling fens of East Anglia.

An uneasy peace holds sway: The King establishes a standing army under Lord Richard, who takes command of the citadel at Wareham.

Richard and his army are accompanied by his daughter, Gwyneth, an impetuous and reckless young woman – at once striking, intellectually gifted, but dangerously vain and imprudent.

While Richard broods on the Viking threat, Gwyneth falls in love with an enemy prince - only to discover that she has been betrothed to a Saxon warrior twice her age.  

Refusing to countenance her grim fate, she flees the fortress, but is soon kidnapped by a Viking warrior and taken to the camp of King Guthrum while Saxon search parties scour the land.  

In captivity, a hostage to fortune, and the focus of political intrigue, Gwyneth is submerged in a world of expediency, betrayal, and black treachery. Slowly, she realizes the truth is suspect, nothing is what it appears and her reality cannot be trusted. 

And all the time, against this background, she desires nothing more than to be reunited with her dashing Danish prince.

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Monday, June 4, 2018

How many executions was Henry VIII responsible for?


History Extra


It is impossible to tell for sure, and historians have no definitive number. It is estimated that anywhere from 57,000 to 72,000 people were executed during Henry’s 37 years’ reign, but this is likely to be an exaggeration.

 Henry’s break with Papal authority, and his second marriage – which was not sanctioned by the Pope – caused a rift between Henry and certain individuals at court, many of whom he knew well, and in some cases was close to.

 Those who either refused to adhere to his Act of Succession or those considered to be heretics were executed, but Henry also executed numerous potential rivals to the throne; two wives and their alleged lovers; leaders of the Pilgrimage of Grace, and his trusted advisor, Thomas Cromwell.

 Lauren Mackay is the author of Inside the Tudor Court: Henry VIII and his Six Wives through the Life and Writings of the Spanish Ambassador, Eustace Chapuys (Amberley Publishing).

Sunday, June 3, 2018

What was England’s reaction to the introduction of the Gregorian calendar in 1751?


History Extra


There’s a long-standing belief that when Britain caught up with 16th-century science by adopting the Gregorian calendar in the 18th century, our ancestors rioted over the loss of 11 days of their lives. Well, not quite.

 When Pope Gregory XIII had decreed the change in 1582 most western European states, Catholic and Protestant, quickly fell into line with what was simply an accurate astronomical adjustment. Protestant England resisted this papist necromancy for 170 years.

 When, at last, legislation was introduced to change the calendar, it wasn’t contentious. The new calendar changed the beginning of the year in England to 1 January (rather than 25 March, as previously; Scotland had already changed). In England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales that year, as well as the colonies, the day following 2 September 1752 would be 14 September 1752.

 There’s almost no evidence of riots over the loss of the 11 days, although there was clearly widespread annoyance when the change became a pretext for early demands for payment and for delaying the settlement of bills, wages or debts.

 Much of the legend seems to be based on William Hogarth’s 1755 picture An Election Entertainment which shows a placard with the words “Give us our eleven days”. Several reliable authorities claim that many country folk insisted on celebrating Christmas Day on what was now 5 January, and continued to do so for a long time afterwards.

 Answered by: Eugene Byrne, author and journalist

Friday, June 1, 2018

The Legendary Origins of Merlin the Magician


Ancient Origins


Most people today have heard of Merlin the Magician, as his name has been popularized over the centuries and his story has been dramatized in numerous novels, films, and television programs. The powerful wizard is depicted with many magical powers, including the power of shapeshifting and is well-known in mythology as a tutor and mentor to the legendary King Arthur, ultimately guiding him towards becoming the king of Camelot. While these general tales are well-known, Merlin’s initial appearances were only somewhat linked to Arthur. It took many decades of adaptations before Merlin became the wizard of Arthurian legend he is known as today.


Merlin the wizard. Credit: Andy / flickr

It is common belief that Merlin was created as a figure for Arthurian legend. While Merlin the Wizard was a very prominent character in the stories of Camelot, that is not where he originated. Writer Geoffrey of Monmouth is credited with creating Merlin in his 1136 AD work, Historia Regum Britanniae – The History of Kings of Britain. While a large portion of Historia Regum Britanniae is a historical account of the former kings of Britain, Merlin was included as a fictional character (although it is likely that Geoffrey intended for readers to believe he was a figure extracted from long-lost ancient texts). Merlin was paradoxical, as he was both the son of the devil and the servant of God.

Merlin was created as a combination of several historical and legendary figures. Geoffrey combined stories of North Brythonic prophet and madman, Myrddin Wyllt, and Romano-British war leader, Ambrosius Aurelianus, to create Merlin Ambrosius. Ambrosius was a figure in Nennius' Historia Brittonum. In Historia Brittonum, British king Vortigern wished to erect a tower, but each time he tried it would collapse before completion. He was told that to prevent this, he would have to first sprinkle the ground beneath the tower with the blood of a child who was born without a father. Ambrosius was thought to have been born without a father, so he was brought before Vortigern. Ambrosius explains to Vortigern that the tower could not be supported upon the foundation because two battling dragons lived beneath, representing the Saxons and the Britons. Ambrosius convinced Vortigern that the tower will only stand with Ambrosius as a leader, and Vortigern gave Ambrosius the tower, which is also the kingdom. Geoffrey retells this story with Merlin as the child born without a father, although he retains the character of Ambrosius.


Illumination of a 15th century manuscript of Historia Regum Britanniae showing king of the Britons Vortigern and Ambros waching the fight between two dragons. ( Wikimedia Commons )

 In Geoffrey’s version of the story, he includes a long section containing Merlin’s prophecies, along with two other stories, which led to the inclusion of Merlin into Arthurian legend. These include the tale of Merlin creating Stonehenge as the burial location for Ambrosius, and the story of Uther Pendragon sneaking into Tintagel where he father Arthur with Igraine, his enemy’s wife. This was the extent of Geoffrey’s tales of Merlin. Geoffrey does not include any stories of Merlin acting as a tutor to Arthur, which is how Merlin is most well-known today. Geoffery’s character of Merlin quickly became popular, particularly in Wales, and from there the tales were adapted, eventually leading to Merlin’s role as Arthur’s tutor.


A giant helps Merlin build Stonehenge. From a manuscript of the Roman de Brut by Wace
 ( Wikimedia Commons )

Many years after Geoffrey’s Historia Regum Britanniae, Robert de Boron composed a poem called Merlin. Boron’s Merlin has the same origins as Geoffrey’s creation, but Boron places special emphasis on Merlin’s shapeshifting powers, connection to the Holy Grail, and his jokester personality. Boron also introduces Blaise, Merlin’s master. Boron’s poem was eventually re-written in prose as Estoire de Merlin, which also places much focus upon Merlin’s shapeshifting. Over the years, Merlin was interspersed through the tales of Arthurian legend. Some writings placed much focus upon Merlin as Arthur’s mentor, while others did not mention Merlin at all. In some tales Merlin was viewed as an evil figure who did no good in his life, while in others he was viewed favorably as Arthur’s teacher and mentor.


Merlin reciting his poem in a 13th-century illustration for ‘Merlin’ by Robert de Boron ( Wikimedia Commons )

Eventually, from the various tales emerged Merlin’s downfall, at the hands of Niviane (Vivien), the king of Northumberland’s daughter. Arthur convinces Niviane to stay in his castle, under Merlin’s encouragement. Merlin falls in love with Niviane. However, Niviane fears Merlin will use his magical powers to take advantage of her. She swears that she will never fall in love with him, unless he teaches her all of the magic he knows. Merlin agrees. Merlin and Niviane depart to return to Northumberland, when they are called back to assist King Arthur. As they are returning, they stop to stay in a stone chamber, where two lovers once died and were buried together. When Merlin falls asleep, Niviane places him under a spell, and traps him within the stone tomb, where he dies. Merlin had never realized that his desire for Niviane, and his willingness to teach her his magical ways, would eventually lead to his untimely death.


Merlin and Vivien dated 1867 by Gustave Dore ( Wikimedia Commons )

From Merlin’s inception through the writings of Geoffrey, the wizard appeared in many subsequent tales, stories, and poems. Today, Merlin is most well-known for being the wizard who tutored and taught the young Arthur, before he grew to become the King of Camelot. It was under Merlin’s counsel that Arthur became the king that he was. While this legend continues on today, it is interesting to see the many variations of Merlin, from an evil wizard, to a shapeshifter, to one who met his downfall from teaching his powers to the woman he loved. This powerful and versatile character caught the attention of many people centuries ago, and continues to play a prominent role in today’s storytelling.

By M R Reese

Sunday, May 27, 2018

No Atomic Blast. Fire Melted the Stones of Iron Age Forts Say Investigators

Ancient Origins


In Scotland, archaeologists believe that they have solved the mystery of an Iron Age fort in which stones had melted in a process termed vitrification. The team of experts studied the vitrified fort, known as Dun Deardail, in the Highlands, near Ben Nevis and have concluded that they can explain how its stones became molten and melted.

 Vitrified Forts
Dun Deardail has been dated to have been built around 500 BC, based on carbon testing. It was occupied by the Celts and later by the fierce Picts who used it as a fortress. The outline of the original fort can still be seen today as grassy embankments and it sits a-top a hill, that once had strategic significance in the area. It is perhaps one of the best known of the vitrified forts in Scotland, along with Ord Hill, and has fascinated people for centuries. Many people visit the spectacular site set in stunning landscape every year.


Dun Deardail. At the top of this hill is the vitrified Iron Age fort. ( CC BY SA 2.0 )

There are many similar vitrified forts in France and Ireland. It is estimated by the National Geographic that there are about 70 vitrified forts in Scotland and 200 in total in Europe. Scientists believe that to vitrify stone slabs that a heat of 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit or 1,100 degrees Celsius , is required. The question as to how Iron Age people managed to ignite such conflagrations with their crude technologies and limited capabilities has only added to the mystery.

The experts from the Forest Enterprise Scotland, working with Stirling University and local volunteers, believe that they have solved the enigma, reports the Scotsman. They believe that a large-scale wooden structure over the stone walls was set alight and the blaze reached such a temperature that it burned the stones. Have the team solved the mystery of the vitrified forts?


Dun Carloway Broch, Lewis, Scotland. Another fort that has areas of vitrification. ( Public Domain )

Solving the Mystery
In order to solve the riddle of the vitrification of forts in Scotland and elsewhere in Europe, a series of investigations have been carried out since at least the 1930s. These tried to duplicate the conditions that would have led to stone vitrifying. None of their results were especially convincing and the reasons for the melting of stone forts continued to be a mystery. The failure to provide a satisfactory theory encouraged all kinds of wild speculation. For example, the popular author, Arthur C Clark argued that the stones were melted and fused by some Iron Age superweapon if not an early atomic bomb.


Now the team led by an archaeologist from the University of Stirling have offered what they believe is the most plausible explanation for the phenomenon of the vitrification of stone citadels. The study has shown that a timber superstructure, which included ramparts and towers, was set alight and the resulting blaze heated the stones. The fire was so intense that is was able to melt stones because of the anaerobic environment that developed as the flames burned down into the stones. The absence of oxygen in the anaerobic conditions, made the fire much more intense and allowed it to reach the temperatures that would have burned the slabs until they melted and fused


Fused stones. This was once part of a wall to the original hill fort at Dunnideer which gave the hill its name. ( CC BY-SA 2.0 )

The team is not only excited by the potential discovery of the cause of the vitrification process but also by the insights that it offers into the nature of Iron Age forts and society. The theory can help us to visualize what these forts looked like. They were impressive bastons with stone walls and according to Matt Ritchie, archaeologist with Forestry Enterprise Scotland they had ‘ roofed rampart walls many metres high’ . He also believes that the extensive wooden structures were used to store the precious food supply of the community.

 It seems that the archaeologists and the team of volunteers have explained one of the most perplexing mysteries from the Iron Age. They have offered a rational and plausible explanation for the vitrification of forts without the need for far-fetched theories. However, according to Ritchie ‘ of course the mystery of why the forts were burned remains unresolved’ . It has been speculated that they were burned during war, as part of a religious ceremony or to mark the death of a monarch.

Top image: Dunnideer Castle, built on the site of a hillfort with a remaining vitrified rampart. ( CC BY-SA 2.0 )

By Ed Whelan

Saturday, May 26, 2018

Tintagel Castle and The Legendary Conception of King Arthur


Ancient Origins


Tintagel Castle is a castle located on Tintagel Island, a peninsula connected to the North Cornwall coast in England by a narrow strip of land. This castle is said to have been an important stronghold from around the end of Roman rule in Britain, i.e. the 4th century AD, or the 5th century AD until the end of the 7th century AD. Tintagel Castle is perhaps best known for the claim that it was the place where the legendary King Arthur was conceived.

 The site where Tintagel Castle stands today is likely to have been occupied during the Roman era, as artifacts dating to this period have been found on the peninsula. Having said that, as structures dating to the Roman period have yet to be discovered, it is not entirely clear if Tintagel Island had been occupied during the Roman period.


The ruins of the upper mainland courtyards of Tintagel Castle, Cornwall. ( CC BY-SA 2.0 )

 It may be said with more certainty that the site was occupied between the end of the Roman period and the 7th century AD. Earlier in 2016, geophysical surveys revealed the existence of walls and layers of buildings at the site. Excavation in the later part of the year yielded walls, said to belong to a palace, a meter in thickness. Additionally, numerous artifacts were also unearthed, including luxury objects imported from distant lands. Such objects include fragments of fine glass, a rim of Phocaean red-slip wear, and late Roman amphorae, which are reported to have been used for the transportation of wine and olive oil from the Mediterranean to Tintagel.

It has also been reported that this palace belonged to the rulers of an ancient south-west British kingdom known as Dumnonia. This kingdom is said to have had its center in modern day Devon, and included parts of present day Cornwall and Somerset. It has been suggested that the story of King Arthur’s conception at Tintagel has something to do with the Kingdom of Dumnonia, or at least with its memory.

During the 12th century, the writer Geoffrey of Monmouth wrote the Historia Regum Britanniae (translated into English as ‘The History of the Kings of Britain’), a pseudohistorical account of British history. One of the figures in this account was King Arthur, whom, according to Geoffrey, was conceived at Tintagel. It has been suggested that Geoffrey was inspired by the memory of Tintagel as a royal site in earlier centuries to link it with the place of the legendary king’s conception.

According to legend, Arthur’s father, Uther Pendragon, fell in love with / lusted after Igraine, the wife of Gorlois of Cornwall, whose fortress was at Tintagel. Uther managed to persuade Merlin to use his magic to fulfil his desire. Merlin transformed Uther into the image of Gorlois, and he was able to enter Tintagel Castle to seduce the queen. It was by this way that Arthur is said to have been conceived.


An illustration by N. C. Wyeth for The Boy's King Arthur (1922) ( Public Domain )

During the 1230s, Richard, 1st Earl of Cornwall, second son of King John of England, and brother of King Henry III of England, decided to build a castle on Tintagel Island.

It has been pointed out that the castle was built based purely on the Arthurian legend connected to that site, and that it was of no military value whatsoever. The castle was inherited by the earl’s descendants, though they are said to have made little use of it. By the middle of the 14th century, about a century after the castle was built, the Great Hall is said to have been roofless, and another century later, the castle had fallen into ruins.


Ruins of the Norman castle at Tintagel. ( CC BY 2.5 )

It is the ruins of Richard’s castle that can still be seen today. The castle remains as the property of the Duchy of Cornwall, and may be visited by the public. In 2016, it was reported that an artwork depicting Merlin was carved into the rock face close to the spot where Arthur was said, according to legend, to have been conceived. In addition, a footbridge (the design of which was selected from a competition) to connect the mainland and the castle is planned to be built. Whilst some have viewed these positively, as they are aimed at bringing in more tourists, others have called it a ‘Disneyfication’ of the site.

Top image: Tintagel Castle, Cornwall. Photo source: ( CC BY 2.0 )

By Wu Mingren

Friday, May 25, 2018

When did the leopards on the royal arms of England become the lions depicted today?


History Extra


The medieval bestiary comprised real and mythical creatures, and the medieval intellect wasn’t interested in our modern post-Enlightenment taxonomy

Hence the yarn about the heraldic painter who visits the royal menagerie in the Tower of London and protests that the caged lions are not lions. “I know what lions look like,” he says. “I’ve been painting them all my life.”

Generally speaking (and there are many exceptions in different traditions), a lion rampant (standing erect with forepaws raised) was a lion, while a lion walking with head turned full-face (passant guardant), as in the English royal arms, was a leopard. ‘Leopard’ was a technical heraldic distinction, and there were no spotted felines on any coat-of-arms in the Middle Ages.

Like all heraldic animals, the leopard carried some symbolic meaning; it was thought to be the result of an adulterous union between a lion and a mythical beast called a ‘pard’ (hence leo-pard). Believed to be incapable of reproducing, leopards were sometimes (but not always) used for someone born of adultery, or unable to have children – a senior clergyman for example.

The English royal arms included the three lions from the time of Richard I (reigned 1189–99) onwards (with a few early gaps). The English usually referred to them as leopards until the late 1300s when they started calling them lions. French heralds continued to call them leopards, and, during the Hundred Years’ War, the French sometimes referred to the English as ‘the leopards’.

Answered by Eugene Byrne, author and journalist.

Thursday, May 24, 2018

How many fingers did Anne Boleyn have?


History Extra


There is no concrete evidence that Anne Boleyn had six fingers. George Wyatt, grandson of court poet and ambassador Sir Thomas Wyatt, made reference to an extra nail on one of Anne’s fingers, which may be plausible, although no other reference exists.

 Nicholas Sander, a Catholic Recusant who was living in exile during Elizabeth I’s rule, went even further, describing Anne’s numerous deformities, including a sixth finger, effectively labelling her a witch. But Sander was writing with a political and religious agenda: he resented the schism with Rome, and his account was intended to taint not only Anne’s name, but Elizabeth’s as well.

Lauren Mackay is the author of Inside the Tudor Court: Henry VIII and his Six Wives through the Life and Writings of the Spanish Ambassador, Eustace Chapuys (Amberley Publishing).

Tuesday, May 22, 2018

Was Henry VIII a good king?

History Extra


The success of Henry’s reign is mixed. Economically, England flourished, partially at the expense of countless monasteries and religious houses. But Henry was also a patron of the arts and humanist learning, and was a driving force behind an enthusiastic building campaign.

He also fortified England, building an impressive navy that would impact the reigns of Mary I and Elizabeth I. But it is perhaps his break with papal authority and his six marriages for which he is best known.

 The break with Rome arguably gave England a sense of national identity, and Henry’s numerous wives and matrimonial dramas have captured our imaginations.

Lauren Mackay is the author of Inside the Tudor Court: Henry VIII and his Six Wives through the Life and Writings of the Spanish Ambassador, Eustace Chapuys (Amberley Publishing).

Monday, May 21, 2018

What is the oldest law in England?


History Extra


Habeas corpus is, indeed, one of the most distinctive features of English law and may well be the oldest in force. The law means literally “you shall have the body”, but in practice allows any court of law to demand that any person is brought before it. Historically it has been used to stop a person being held in prison unlawfully or without a fair trial.

 Habeas corpus is often said to originate in Magna Carta, signed by King John in 1215. The habeas corpus provisions in Magna Carta were codifying an already existing procedure that dates back to the 1130s and probably to pre-Norman England.

Although habeas corpus is still on the statute book, the version now in force dates from the amended Magna Carta issued by Edward I in 1297. The oldest formally written law still in force in England is therefore the Distress Act of 1267. This made it illegal to seek ‘distress’, or compensation for damage, by any means other than a lawsuit in a court of law – effectively outlawing private feuds.

Answered by Rupert Matthews, historian and author.

Thursday, May 17, 2018

What happened to Katherine Parr’s daughter, Mary Seymour, after her mother’s death?


History Extra


Following Katherine’s death a matter of days after Mary’s birth, the newborn’s father, Thomas Seymour, placed Mary in the household of his brother, the Duke of Somerset.

 But the brothers’ relationship deteriorated and as Thomas faced death for treason, he appointed the Duchess of Suffolk, Katherine’s close friend, as Mary’s guardian.

 The Duchess of Suffolk’s main estate was at Grimsthorpe in Lincolnshire and Mary moved there with her little retinue. Her guardian resented the cost of looking after Mary and petitioned William Cecil, then in Somerset’s household, for additional funds to support her. These were granted in autumn 1549, and in January 1550 an act of parliament restored Mary’s title to her father’s remaining property.

 There was, however, very little left. The Privy Council’s grant to Mary was not renewed in September 1550 and she never claimed any part of her father’s estate, leading to the conclusion that she died around the time of her second birthday.

 There is a story that Mary survived, cared for by the Aglionbys (a northern family who had once been clients of the Parrs), and married a courtier in the service of Anne of Denmark, queen of James I. In the absence of documentary proof, it seems far likelier that this tragic orphan died very young. 

Answered by Linda Porter, author of Katherine the Queen (MacMillan, 2010).

Friday, May 4, 2018

5 Bayeux Tapestry facts: what is it, why was it made and what story does it tell?

History Extra


The French president Emmanuel Macron recently announced that the Bayeux Tapestry is to go on display in the UK. But what exactly is the tapestry, how old is it, and why is it important?

 David Musgrove, publisher of BBC History Magazine, brings you five need-to-know facts about the Bayeux Tapestry…

 1 What is the Bayeux Tapestry and what story does it tell?
The Bayeux Tapestry tells one of the most famous stories in British history – that of the Norman Conquest of England in 1066, particularly the battle of Hastings, which took place on 14 October 1066.

The Bayeux Tapestry is not a tapestry at all, but rather an embroidery. A tapestry is something that’s woven on a loom, whereas an embroidery is thread stitched onto a cloth background. The tapestry is some 68m long and is composed of several panels that were produced separately and then eventually sewn together to form one long whole. In one case the joining of the panels is inexpertly done, as the marginal lines don’t match up precisely.

The tapestry tells the story of the Norman Conquest of England in 1066. The action actually starts a couple of years before the set-piece battle of Hastings, with a discussion between England’s King Edward, the Confessor, and his leading noble (who was also his brother-in-law), Harold Godwinson. The upshot of that conversation is that Harold sets off on a ship to France. He is shipwrecked and captured by a local nobleman there, and then is transferred into the hands of the powerful Duke William of Normandy. Curiously, they then head off together on a military adventure in Brittany, which Harold seems to enthusiastically take part in.

Harold’s time in Normandy ends with him making an oath to William on holy relics. The tapestry does not explain precisely what the nature of the oath is, but other Norman-inclined sources tell us that Harold was swearing to be William’s man in England and to uphold his bid to be king on Edward’s death.

Harold then goes back to England and has another meeting with Edward the Confessor. We don’t know what they talk about, but it’s presumably discussing his stay in Normandy. Then Edward dies, and Harold is declared king by the English nobles. A comet shoots through the sky, which is deemed to be a bad omen for Harold.

Then the action swings back to Normandy. William hears of Harold’s accession and immediately starts building a fleet. The ships cross the Channel and the Norman army establishes itself on English soil. They are shown pillaging, feasting and fortifying their position. Then we get to the battle of Hastings itself, which is portrayed in considerable detail. The upshot of course is that King Harold is slain, with the defeated Englishmen being shown fleeing the field in the last scene of the tapestry.

The ending is abrupt and many people have pondered on whether the tapestry was not actually finished, or has lost its final frames at some point over the centuries. If so, the end panels might have shown William being crowned king of England, as that was the ultimate consequence of the Conquest.

2 Who was the Bayeux Tapestry made for?
This is a question that has been much discussed by historians over the years. Given the fact that the tapestry broadly celebrates and sanctions William’s Conquest of England, for a long time it was considered to have been the work of his Queen Matilda, and the ladies of her court. That view is out of favour now, and the majority of historians would agree that the most likely patron was Odo of Bayeux, the half-brother of Duke William. Odo was a key supporter of the duke and a substantial landowner in both England and Normandy after 1066, as well as being the bishop of Bayeux.

The biggest pointer towards Odo’s likely patronage of the tapestry is that he has a disproportionally large role in the events portrayed, compared to his appearance in other historical accounts of the Conquest. It seems that the designers are going out of their way to stress the importance of Odo in the narrative. On top of that, the key oath scene in which Harold swears to William is depicted in the tapestry as having taken place in Bayeux (Odo’s bishopric), which conflicts with other documents that say the event happened elsewhere in Normandy. Plus, aside from the main historical figures, there is the curious mention of several otherwise insignificant characters in the tapestry, and their names match those of men we know to have been Odo’s retainers.

Other candidates are also in the frame, though: Edward the Confessor’s widow, Queen Edith, has been suggested. She also features in the tapestry and would have had cause to want to show herself in a good light to William after the Conquest, so what better way than commissioning a tapestry that supports his claim to the throne?

Alternatively, it might have been made on the orders of William himself. Clearly he would have been keen to have a permanent record of his victory and his right to have claimed the throne.

Whoever ordered the creation of the tapestry, the follow-up question is – who actually made it? There are a lot of indications to suggest that it was most likely produced in England by English embroiderers. The Latin textual inscriptions above the story-boards use Old English letter forms, and stylistically the work has parallels in Anglo-Saxon illuminated manuscripts. Plus, some of the vignettes in the tapestry appear to be based on designs that we know were found in manuscripts held in the library of a monastery in Canterbury, so there are those who argue that it was actually made not just in England, but more precisely in Canterbury.


The battle scenes in the Bayeux Tapestry have taught military historians about fighting techniques in the 11th century. (Photo by Walter Rawlings/Robert Harding/Getty Images)

3 When was the Bayeux Tapestry created and why is it important?
We do not have a precise date for when the Bayeux Tapestry was created but the academic consensus is that it must have been produced very soon after the events it depicts. This means that it is a key primary source for students of the Conquest period. The tapestry contains a considerable amount of information not only about the political events surrounding the Conquest story, but also about other aspects of military, social and cultural history. Historians of clothing have gleaned much about Anglo-Saxon and Anglo-Norman garment styles and fashions from the depictions shown in the tapestry, while academics interested in early medieval ship-building, sailing and carpentry have likewise learnt much from the sections dealing with the construction and voyage of William’s invasion fleet.

Military historians have studied the arms and armour shown in the tapestry and analysed the battle scenes to learn more about military techniques and practice at the time. Architectural experts have also been able to interrogate the tapestry for information about building types and materials in the 11th-century from the portrayals of the various structures shown in the story.

So the tapestry is a rich source of information on many aspects of Anglo-Norman life, society, culture and history. But more than that, it’s an astounding and amazing survival of a work of art that is almost 1,000 years old. Its significance derives as much from that as from what it tells us when we study it.

4 Is the Bayeux Tapestry a reliable source of information?
 Is any historical primary source of information entirely reliable? No – unless you understand the context of the time in which it was produced, and the motives of those producing it. That’s why the question of who had the tapestry made is critical in helping us to interpret what it tells us. As discussed above, the most likely candidate as the patron of the tapestry is the Norman nobleman Odo of Bayeux, half-brother of William the Conqueror. However, layered on top of that is the likely fact that the actual design and embroidery work was probably done in England, by English hands.

So, although the tapestry is on the face of it a work of art designed to celebrate and legitimise William’s conquest of England, there is also an undercurrent of sympathy to the defeated Anglo-Saxon cause running beneath it. In some ways, the tapestry appears to agree with the Norman narrative of events, as described in the work of writers such as William of Jumieges and William of Poitiers. However, it is also surprisingly respectful of William’s enemy, King Harold II, who is shown as a great and brave lord, rather than just a deceitful usurper.

What’s important to note is that as a source of information on the political events to the Conquest period, the tapestry actually offers very limited definitive evidence. The Latin inscriptions that run above the pictorial narrative are terse and limited in number. This ambiguity means we do not know, for instance, what Edward the Confessor and Harold are discussing in the first scene of the story. Nothing is said other than ‘King Edward’ above the frame, so we are entirely in the dark about the meeting and must infer from other sources as to what the designers are trying to tell us. That is a problem that persists throughout the tapestry, where we are constantly invited to infer what is happening from the pictures, rather than being told what is happening with words.


Maritime historians have learnt much about ship-building from the scenes in the Bayeux Tapestry depicting William’s fleet under construction. (Photo by DEA/M. Seamuller/Getty Images)

5. What was the Bayeux Tapestry used for?
This is a difficult question to answer, if we are focusing on the immediate post-Conquest period, because we have no evidence whatsoever to call upon. Assuming that the patron of the tapestry was, as is widely accepted today, Bishop Odo of Bayeux, then it may have been used to decorate the cathedral that he had constructed in Bayeux during his lifetime. It may even have been designed as an ornament for the consecration of that building in 1077, though some historians dispute that.

Presumably whoever did have the tapestry made would have wanted others to come view it and share in the story it tells, as well as be impressed by the magnificence of both the patron (for being the benefactor of such a great work), and of Duke William himself for orchestrating his victory. How that would have happened is not clear – if it was displayed in a cathedral, illumination would have been dim to say the least.

The tapestry could perhaps instead have been displayed in a secular building, or it could have been displayed temporarily and then stored away, maybe being brought out for particular gatherings, when there was someone on hand to tell the story in person as well.

What we do know is that from at least 1476 onwards, the tapestry was held in Bayeux Cathedral (we don’t know where it was prior to that) because it’s detailed in an inventory of that date. It was traditionally brought out for display in the cathedral at a certain point in the year, and then stored away. This helps to explain why the tapestry survived at all – it wasn’t on permanent view and thus not subject to the risks of being regularly exposed to the elements.

As we move forward into more recent times, the tapestry has continued to have a propaganda purpose. Napoleon considered it important when he was readying his plans to invade Britain at the start of the 19th century and had it brought to Paris for display. In the Second World War it was again deemed a useful tool by the Nazis, where it was studied as part of a research project to demonstrate the Germanic origins of European culture (and moved to Paris for safe-keeping).

David Musgrove is the publisher and former editor of BBC History Magazine.

Thursday, May 3, 2018

More than a Dozen Mysterious Prehistoric Tunnels in Cornwall, England, Mystify Researchers

Ancient Origins


More than a dozen tunnels have been found in Cornwall, England, that are unique in the British Isles. No one knows why Iron Age people created them. The fact that the ancients supported their tops and sides with stone, suggests that they wanted them to endure, and that they have, for about 2,400 years.

Many of the fogous, as they’re called in Cornish after their word for cave, ogo, were excavated by antiquarians who didn’t keep records, so their purpose is hard to fathom, says a BBC Travel story on the mysterious structures.

The landscape of Cornwall is covered with hundreds of ancient, stone, man-made features, including enclosures, cliff castles, roundhouses, ramparts and forts. In terms of stone monuments, the Cornwall countryside has barrows, menhirs, dolmens, cairns and of course stone circles. In addition, there are 13 inscribed stones.


The Cornish landscape is dotted with ancient megalithic structures like this Lanyon Quoit Megalith   ( public domain )

“Obviously, all of this monument building did not take place at the same time. Man has been leaving his mark on the surface of the planet for thousands of years and each civilisation has had its own method of honouring their dead and/or their deities,” says the site Cornwall in Focus.

The site says Cornwall has 74 Bronze Age structures, 80 from the Iron Age, 55 from the Neolithic and one from the Mesolithic. In addition, there are nine Roman sites and 24 post-Roman. The Mesolithic dates from 8000 to 4500 BC, so people have been occupying this southwestern peninsula of Britain for a long, long time.

About 150 generations of people worked the land there. But it’s believed the fogous date to the Iron Age, which lasted from about 700 BC to 43 AD. Though they’re unique, the fogou tunnels of Cornwall are similar to souterrains in Scotland, Ireland, Normandy and Brittany, says the BBC.


Carn Euny fogou in Cornwall ( public domain )

The fogous required considerable investment of time and resources “and no one knows why they would have done so,” says the BBC. It’s interesting to note that all 14 of the fogous have been found within the confines of prehistoric settlements.

Because the society was preliterate, there are no written records that explain the enigmatic structures.

“There are only a couple that have been excavated in modern times – and they don’t seem to be structures that really easily give up their secrets,” Susan Greaney, head properties historian of English Heritage, told the BBC.

The mystery of their construction is amplified at Halliggye Fogou, the best-preserved such tunnel in Cornwall. It measures 1.8 meters (5.9 feet) high. The 8.4 -meter-long (27.6 feet) passage narrows at its end in a tunnel 4 meters (13.124 feet) long and .75 meter (2.46 feet) tall.


Main chamber of the Halliggye Fogou ( public domain )

Another tunnel 27 meters (88.6 feet) long branches off to the left of the main chamber and gets darker the farther in one goes. There is what the BBC calls a “final creep” at the end of this passage that has stone lip upon which one could trip.

“In other words, none of it seemed designed for easy access – a characteristic that’s as emblematic of fogous as it is perplexing,” wrote the BBC’s Amanda Ruggeri.


Halliggye Fogou. One of the largest and best preserved of these fogou (curious underground passages) this one originally passed under the rampart of a defended Iron Age settlement.                   ( geograph.org.uk)

Some have speculated they were places to hide, though the lintels of many of them are visible on the surface and Ruggeri says they would be forbidding places to stay if one sought refuge.

Still others have speculated they were burial chambers. An antiquarian who entered Halliggye in 1803 wrote that it had funerary urns. But others entered by the hole he made in the roof, and all the urns are gone. No bones or ashes have been discovered in the six tunnels that modern archaeologists have examined. No remnants of grains have been found, perhaps because the soil is acidic. No ingots from mining have been discovered.

This elimination of storage, mining or burial purposes has led some to speculate that they were perhaps ceremonial or religious structures where people worshiped gods. “These were lost religions,” said archaeologist James Gossip, who led Ruggeri on a tour of Halligye fogou.

“We don’t know what people were worshiping. There’s no reason they couldn’t have had a ceremonial, spiritual purpose as well as, say, storage.”

He added that the purpose and use of the fogous probably changed over the hundreds of years they were in use.

Top image: The Halliggye Fogou ( megalithics.com)

By Mark Miller

Thursday, April 12, 2018

Robert the Bruce: champion of Scotland or murderous usurper?


History Extra


On 10 February 1306, the most important political murder in Scottish history took place. John Comyn, “the Red”, was slaughtered by Robert Bruce, Earl of Carrick, and his followers in an outburst of violence in the church of the Franciscans, the Greyfriars, at Dumfries.

 Comyn and Bruce were leading members of the Scottish nobility. They had been rivals and had recently fought on opposing sides in the wars between Edward I of England and the Scots. In early 1306 with Edward finally recognised as ruler of Scotland, the two lords met together in the Greyfriars church. At first the men seemed friendly and Bruce talked alone with Comyn before the high altar.

Suddenly the mood changed. Bruce accused his rival of treachery. Making to walk away, Robert Bruce then turned back with sword drawn and struck Comyn. Bruce’s followers then rushed in, raining blows on John Comyn who fell to the floor. Comyn’s uncle, who joined the melee, was cut down. Bruce left the church. Mounted on Comyn’s horse he led his followers the short distance to Dumfries Castle where King Edward’s justices were holding court.

Breaking in, Bruce arrested the king’s men but then he heard news that Comyn was still alive. He dispatched two of his men to the friary. They found John Comyn tended by the friars in the vestry, wounded but not dying.

After allowing him to hear confession, Bruce’s men dragged Comyn back into the church and killed him on the altar steps, spattering the altar itself with blood. While Comyn’s corpse was abandoned to the friars, Bruce rode from Dumfries to begin the uprising against Edward I which would climax with his crowning as king of Scots six weeks later.

Those seeking to understand these events saw Comyn’s death as a deliberate step on Bruce’s path to the throne. The English investigation of the murder in 1306 concluded that Comyn was killed because “he would not assent to the treason that Bruce planned against the king of England, it is believed”. In English chronicles of the period, Bruce lured Comyn to Dumfries to kill him. In Scottish accounts, by contrast, Bruce and Comyn agreed to work together for Scotland’s freedom. Comyn, however, betrayed Bruce’s plans to Edward I and was killed in revenge for his treachery.

All these versions agree in identifying Bruce in February 1306 as a man preparing to launch a bid for the kingship and killing Comyn to clear the way. The portrayal of Bruce as either cold-blooded killer or clear-sighted champion of his people suited the conflicting perceptions of later years. It placed the murder at the heart of a planned coup which would also involve Bruce’s seizure of the throne and his war against the English king, a war which ultimately secured recognition of Scotland’s independence.

However, these interpretations also relied on a heavy dose of hindsight. If viewed from the perspective of February 1306 do the conclusions of these accounts seem quite so clear? Was Bruce at that time focused on the seizure of the throne? Was the killing of Comyn on holy ground, an act bound to appal and alienate many Scots, a deed of calculated revolution? Did the immediate aftermath of Comyn’s death, the six weeks before Bruce was crowned king, witness the unfolding of a planned coup? The answers lie in the evidence which emerged before Bruce assumed the reputation and role of hero king or bloody usurper.

The difficult years
In early 1306 Robert Bruce was not an obvious champion of Scottish liberties. He was in his early 30s and his career had been shaped by the decade-long wars between Edward I (ruled England 1272–1307) and the Scots.

The king of England had taken advantage of a succession crisis in Scotland after the death of Alexander III (who ruled Scotland 1249–86). Bruce’s position in this conflict was defined by family interests. Part of this was the Bruce claim to the Scottish throne. This had been rejected in favour of the rival rights of John Balliol in 1292 but with Balliol in exile from 1296 the Bruces did not abandon hope of a crown.

While Bruce was conscious of his family’s royal aspirations, it was his responsibilities as a nobleman which exerted most influence on his activities. As earls of Carrick and lords of Annandale in south-west Scotland and a number of English estates, the Bruces had to preserve lands in two warring kingdoms and protect their friends and tenants in the difficult years since 1296. In these years Bruce had played a shifting role. He had briefly led resistance to Edward I in 1297 and had been a guardian of Scotland between 1298 and 1300 but after both episodes had submitted to the English king.

 From 1302 to 1304 he had been active in Edward’s government of Scotland. Bruce’s shifts of side were motivated less by a machiavellian hopes of winning the throne than by the duty to preserve his family’s lands and tenants from the worst effects of war.

His actions were normal amongst the Scottish nobility and were entirely understandable to contemporaries. They do not, though, reveal Bruce as a man committed to the abstract defence of Scotland. Instead they suggest a young lord whose concerns were with more limited and pragmatic issues of lordship and loyalty.

In the months before February 1306 Robert Bruce continued to face these concerns in new circumstances. In 1304 Edward I finally compelled his leading Scottish enemies to submit to his rule. He was now the master of Scotland and during the next year Scotland’s nobles sought his favour and petitioned him for lands and offices. Bruce was one of this group.

In April 1304 his father had died and Bruce approached the king to receive his family’s lordship of Annandale. The succession of enquiries into the Bruces’ ancient rights in their estates probably encouraged Bruce to find allies. To this end, in June 1304 he entered a bond or private alliance with William Lamberton, the bishop of St Andrews.

Deep political rivals
While this was later used by the English to suggest a conspiracy between Bruce and one of the leaders of the Scottish church, its terms do not support this. Instead it was a formal statement of friendship between lords who had recently been on opposite sides in the war but now saw the need to co-operate.

Needing to secure his inheritance and under government scrutiny, Bruce would have found such an alliance valuable, especially as Lamberton became head of Edward’s Scottish council. Issues of land, lordship and influence within this Edwardian Scotland seem to have preoccupied Robert Bruce in 1304–5.

The same issues explain Bruce’s presence in Dumfries on 10 February and his meeting with John Comyn. The king’s justices were holding court in Dumfries and as local landowners it would be natural for Bruce and Comyn to be present. For them to meet in private to discuss the court’s business would also be normal.

However any meeting between these two men came with considerable baggage. There is a garbled tale in several accounts of an indenture between Bruce and Comyn which may indicate a promise of mutual support like that between Bruce and Bishop Lamberton. In the case of Bruce and John however, any written expressions of friendship overlay deep animosity.

The two men were open political rivals. Comyn’s family were long-standing opponents of the Bruces and between 1302 and 1304, while Bruce served King Edward, Comyn had led the king’s enemies. They were also personal enemies. In 1299 Bruce and Comyn were the guardians of Scotland, leading the war against the English. When a dispute broke out between followers of the two men, Comyn turned on Bruce and seized him by the throat.

Accusations of treason were flung at Bruce before the two men were separated. The mistrust and violence between Bruce and Comyn in 1299 may have flared again in February 1306, perhaps sparked by a similarly minor disagreement.

Seeking a deal
The closely contemporary account of Walter of Guisborough hints at this scenario. Bruce and Comyn met to discuss “certain matters touching both of them”. During the conversation Bruce charged Comyn with influencing King Edward against him.

This suggests less the betrayal of a conspiracy than competition for royal favour between rivals which had cost Bruce lands and offices and may have broken a written promise of friendship. Old antagonisms spurred Bruce into an attack on Comyn and others present joined in the fight. The result was not assassination but a bloody scuffle.

The aftermath of the killing suggests that even then Bruce only slowly developed the intention of seizing the throne. It would be six weeks before he was crowned and in this period the consequences of Comyn’s death and the nature of Bruce’s intentions only gradually unfolded.

Vital evidence of this comes from an English report, crucially written in early March before Bruce took the throne. It shows Bruce remaining in the south-west, taking castles and trying to recruit followers in the manner of previous aristocratic rebellions. The report also reveals that Bruce was negotiating with Edward I and his officials and in these talks indicated that he had taken castles “to defend himself with the longest stick that he had”.

This was not the unequivocal defiance of a king in waiting but suggests a man trying to safeguard his position but still seeking a deal, perhaps a pardon for Comyn’s death. However the report shows that such aims were changing.

The writer identifies the key figure in this as Wishart, the bishop of Glasgow. Robert Wishart was a veteran defender of Scottish liberties and in early March, as Bruce’s “chief adviser”, he absolved Bruce from his sins and “freed him to secure his heritage”. This could only mean that Bruce was now determined to bid for the throne. Wishart provided the spiritual support. By releasing Bruce from his oath to Edward and from the sacrilege of slaying Comyn on holy ground the bishop made Bruce a credible leader of the Scots.

It had taken weeks for this move and it was only in March that Bruce started to widen his appeal and win support. On 25 March Bruce was crowned King of Scots at Scone.

The ceremony was makeshift and, if it demonstrated that the new king had gathered support from clergy, nobles and people, a majority stayed away, refusing to recognise the usurper or unwilling to risk sharing in his likely defeat.

Edward I’s terrible retribution
Bruce had taken a huge gamble. He was on a path of no return and by October he and his friends had paid a heavy price. Defeated three times in battle by English and Scottish enemies, Bruce fled the Scottish mainland. Many of his supporters and family suffered worse fates as Edward I wreaked a terrible punishment on those he regarded as perjured rebels.

With stakes so high it would always have been a huge risk to plan a rebellion against Edward. It would not be surprising if Bruce, a wealthy and influential noble with a career of cautious self-interest to his name, baulked at such a gamble. Instead, through lingering personal antagonism which sparked an act of unpremeditated violence, Bruce put his future in jeopardy. By killing Comyn, Bruce had made enemies of John’s family and following. As well as this blood feud Bruce now faced the judgement of Edward I, not a lenient or forgiving ruler.

In these unpromising circumstances and influenced by Bishop Wishart, Bruce took the decision which changed his life and Scotland’s future. He laid claim to the title and authority of king, appealing to his family’s allies and to those Scots who wished to renew the war against the English king. Despite the defeats of 1306 it would be in this role that Bruce would return to Scotland the following year. From 1307 as King of Scots Robert Bruce would begin to win his realm.

Michael Brown is reader in medieval Scottish history at the University of St Andrews. His books include The Wars of Scotland 1214-1371, (Edinburgh University Press, 2004) and Bannockburn: The Scottish War and the British Isles, 1307-1323 (Edinburgh University Press, 2008).

Monday, April 9, 2018

Hundreds of Place Names of Old Norse Origin in the British Isles


Thor News


Many English villages and towns were founded by Vikings. (Photo: John Baker/ videnskab.dk)

 In the 9th and 10th centuries Norwegian, Danish and Swedish Vikings crossed the ocean and sailed to the British Isles, and their legacy is still very much alive: Hundreds of place- and personal names of Old Norse origin tell that the Norsemen not only came to plunder, but that many also chose to settle on the isles to the west.

A recently published article in Antiquity, international quarterly journal of archaeological research, suggests that the number of Scandinavians have been larger than previous DNA studies demonstrate: As many as between 20,000 and 35,000 Vikings may have relocated to England.

The Vikings did have a strong influence on the English language, including place- and personal names, which is the linguistic evidence for the high number of settlers, according to the language researchers.

When the Scandinavians arrived in England, they met a local population who spoke Old English.

Old Norse and Old English were closely related with many identical or similar words. Today, many place names in the British Isles are Old Norse names or a combination of the two languages.

Three examples of English village names of Old Norse origin:
Lofthouse – lopt-hús (Old Norse) A house with a loft or upper chamber.
Hulme – holmr (Old Norse) An island, an inland promontory, raised ground in marsh, a river-meadow.
Towton (“Tofi’s farm/settlement”), pers.n. (Old Norse) Personal name, tÅ«n (Old English) An enclosure; a farmstead; a village; an estate.

The large number and variety of names, either wholly or partly Scandinavian, is important evidence supporting the theory that Old Norse was spoken in many parts of England.

In the year 1086 AD, only two decades after the last Viking invasion in 1066, the English “Domesday Book” (a manuscript record of the “Great Survey” of large parts of England and parts of Wales), was completed.

The many Norse place names demonstrate the big influence Scandinavian Vikings had in the British Isles.

In the British Museum’s homepage, you can find out whether the name of a village, town or city on the British Isles origins from the Vikings.

British Museum writes: “This map shows all English, Welsh, Irish and a selection of Scottish placenames with Old Norse origins.

 In England, these are more prevalent north of the line marked in black, which represents the border described in a treaty between King Alfred and the Viking leader, Guthrum, made between AD 876 and 890.”


Howth village and outer suburb of Dublin, Ireland: The name Howth is probably from the Old Norse “HÇ«fuð” (“head” in English). (Photo: Bjørn Christian Tørrissen / Wikimedia Commons)

“This description – up the Thames, and then up the Lea, and along the Lea unto its source, then in a straight line to Bedford, then up on the Ouse to Watling Street – is traditionally thought to demarcate the southern boundary of the ‘Danelaw’ – the region where ‘Danish’ law was recognised.

In reality it may have been more of a ‘legal fiction’ than a real border, but it does seem to roughly mark the southern limits of significant Scandinavian settlement in Britain.”

Text by: ThorNews

Other sources: Danish science portal videnskab.dk