Was there a real Robin Hood? Edale Lane

The real Robin Hood story! Live the adventure! The Heart of Sherwood.

Today we welcome Melodie Romero (writing as Edale Lane) to the blog to talk about her historical lesbian romance, Heart of Sherwood! Welcome, Melodie!

Heart of Sherwood is a gender-bent action-adventure-romance novel that places the Robin Hood legend in alignment with historical facts. In preparing for writing the manuscript, I studied every Robin Hood story I could find, watched all the film versions, and carefully researched historical people and events that would have likely coincided with the hero had he (or she) truly lived. As a historian, I know well that most myths and legends are based on actual people and events that have since been exaggerated and romanticized, but whether male or female, was the enigmatic outlaw a real person?

The first literary reference to Robin Hood dates to 1377 and the various early tales place him in different centuries and hailing from varying locals. The British Museum preserves several antique manuscripts, each claiming to chronicle the famous outlaw’s life. Most versions agree that Sherwood Forest was his hang-out, and he robbed the rich to give to the poor. The latter made him a folk hero, whether or not he ever lived. But if there was a Robin Hood, would the character necessarily be a man? Some of the earliest Robin Hood stories describe him as a beardless youth, only 14 or 15 years of age. While he became older and more sophisticated with later accounts, historians often put more trust in the earliest manuscripts. In the Medieval Period being male was a prerequisite to becoming a knight or skilled fighter (a few exceptions such as Joan of Arc not withstanding); however, throughout the ages there have been times when women disguised themselves as men in order to engage in unconventional behavior, such as fighting in a war. There existing no concrete evidence of a benevolent outlaw known as Robin Hood, it is not inconceivable that the person upon whom the legend is based could have been a woman in disguise. Besides, in my retelling of the story, the circumstance of her femininity constitutes the very reason the name of Robin Hood was omitted from all official records.  

The Sloan Manuscript written towards the end the sixteenth century states that “Robin Hood was born in Locksley in Yorkshire or after other in Nottinghamshire, in ye days of Henry II about ye yeare 1160, but lived tyll ye latter end of Richard Ye Fyrst”. He is also referred to as “Robin of Locksley” by Sir Walter Scott in “Ivanhoe,” (1819), and has been known by that title ever since. Anthony Munday depicted the inscrutable outlaw as the Earl of Huntington in his 1589 plays, but I have chosen to stay true to the most familiar version of Hood as the Earl of Loxley (or in my case, the Earl’s daughter). 

The world of cinema in filled with Robin Hood movies from silent films to current day, and I drew from all of them, particularly the Errol Flynn 1938 version while not ignoring the Disney animated classic. Both retellings include Prince John and King Richard, while some other tales do not. Curiously, I discovered that none of the written stories or movies include a most notable character in Queen Eleanor (probably because they were all written by men). While Richard was being held for ransom and John was trying to cheat his way to the throne, she stood as regent, the de facto ruler of England. I included this most remarkable woman of her era as a major character in my novel. 

You can’t have a Robin Hood story without Maid Marian, and Heart of Sherwood is no exception, weaving a sweet FF romance into the action. Maid Marian was not in the earliest Robin Hood ballads, but first mentioned around 1500. There was a “Marian of the May Games” from French tradition who was a shepherdess with a lover called Robin, and it has been suggested that the two tales merged at some point. From the late 1500s both Robin and Marian began to be portrayed as nobles who had a relationship ranging from friendship to marriage. In an Elizabethan play, Anthony Munday identified Maid Marian with the historical Matilda, daughter of Robert FitzWalter, a real-life supporter of King Richard who was forced to flee England after a failed attempt to assassinate the then King John. This representation of Maid Marian has held for centuries of lore, so I kept it.

Perhaps we are nowhere nearer to answering the question of authenticity surrounding one of England’s greatest heroes, but historians continue to search for answers. Could it be that the real reason there is no official chronical of Robin Hood’s noble acts is the simple fact that “he” had been a “she”? Read Heart of Sherwood and decide for yourself! 

Heart of Sherwood was named finalist at Imaginarium 2019 and won the Rainbow Award for Best Historical Lesbian Romance of 2019.

Heart of Sherwood
Cover: Heart of Sherwood, Edale Lane

When Robyn’s father and brother are killed in the Third Crusade, she is thrown off her manor by the opportunistic Sheriff of Nottingham and branded a traitor. In the guise of a boy, she joins Little John and the gang in Sherwood Forest and soon becomes their leader. Maid Marian has always been Robyn’s best friend, but now they are no longer children and their feelings for each other have grown. Queen Eleanor has employed Marian as a spy in Nottingham when she suspects Prince John of plotting with the Sheriff and Sir Guy. It is up to three strong women to save Richard’s kingdom. Can they succeed, or will John usurp the throne when the Sheriff ends Robyn’s life at the point of his blade?

Buy Heart of Sherwood

About Edale/Melodie
Edale Lane / Melodie Romeo

Edale Lane is the alter-ego of author Melodie Romeo, (Tribute in Blood, Terror in Time, and others) who founded Past and Prologue Press. Both identities are qualified to write historical fiction by virtue of an MA in History and 24 years spent as a teacher, along with skill and dedication in regard to research. She is a successful author who also currently drives a tractor-trailer across the United States. A native of Vicksburg, MS, Edale (or Melodie as the case may be) is also a musician who loves animals, gardening, and nature, and is in the process of moving to beautiful Chilliwack BC, Canada.

Amazon author pages: Edale LaneMelodie Romero : Website

Edale Lane’s Night Flyer Trilogy

Merchants of Milan, book one of the Night Flyer Trilogy 

Secrets of Milan, book two of the Night Flyer Trilogy  

Chaos in Milan, book three of the Night Flyer Trilogy

Taking Stock: sneak preview

Since it’s not yet available on the wizzy Amazon-viewer thing, I thought you might like a sneak preview of the first chapter of Taking Stock!

Chapter 1: Betrayal

September, 1971

“What?” Phil said. “You thought I wouldn’t mind?” He swallowed roughly. “We’ve been together for over a year, Richard. There’s some expectation of loyalty comes with that. I would have thought.” He looked at the younger man stood in the center of his cream living room carpet. “Or perhaps not.”

Richard didn’t even have the grace to look ashamed. “It wasn’t anything, Phil. You’re being stupid. I sucked him off, that was all.” He didn’t even blush. He looked irritated, if anything. “You’re being very unreasonable.”

“You’ve been living here for nearly twelve months. You didn’t think that the assumption would be of monogamy?”

Richard made a dismissive huffing noise and shrugged. “That’s not how it’s done, Phil my dear. Not these days. You’re delightfully old fashioned in some ways, but you’re being very stick in the mud about this.”

Phil shut his eyes for a moment. “It’s not the first time then?”

Richard waved his hand in a dramatic gesture, the tight sleeve of his orange and brown striped shirt flexing along with it. “Leave it, won’t you. It’s not important.”

“Not important to you? Or not important to me? Because I assure you I think it’s important. It’s very important. Richard.” He swallowed. “I… I’ve come to care for you.”

Richard raised an eyebrow. “My dear Phil. Is this a declaration? How thrilling! Do go on.”

Phil said nothing. Clearly he had been barking up the wrong tree. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers and turned away to look out of the inverted arched window at the lake. There were some ducks shagging enthusiastically on the edge of his view. More than what’s going on in here, he thought, dismally. No more shagging for me.

Richard had joined the firm eighteen months ago as a junior in Phil’s department and had quickly made his interest in Phil clear. Oh, he was discreet at work…the rough and tumble of the trading floor wasn’t tolerant of anyone who didn’t follow the public-school rugger-bugger stereotype. He’d made it clear that he was interested in Phil though. Phil’s friend Peter had pointed it out to him first. Phil was usually a bit slow on the uptake.

“You want to watch that one,” he’d said one evening as they were sat, backs to the bar, watching the younger traders horse around at a table on the other side of the room. “He’s trouble. And he likes you.”

Phil looked at him. “He likes me? What do you mean?”

Peter glanced at him. “You know what I mean. He likes you. Didn’t you notice him flirting when he came up to get his round in? You could take him home tonight if you wanted to.” He took a swig of his beer. “Bet he sucks cock like a Hoover,” he said wistfully.

You take him home if you feel like that about him,” Phil said, slightly acerbically. He could never tell when someone was coming on to him.

“Nah mate, I’ve got enough on my hands already.” He nodded toward one of the other young men at the same table. “Hips like a snake. And he knows how to use ‘em.”

Phil blushed. Peter was a lot more open about his partners than he was and always had been, even before the change in the law. Phil was never going to out himself to anyone other than his closest friends.

The next time Richard came up to the bar, Phil returned his smile. “Let me buy you a drink?” he asked.

“Sure,” the younger man replied.

And that was that. A few weeks later he had moved into Phil’s spacious flat in the middle of the city and he’d been here ever since. Apparently using it as a base to bring blokes to suck off on his days off while Phil was at work.

Not good.

“I’d like you to leave,” Phil said, turning back toward him. “Pack a suitcase. You can come back for the rest of your things another day.”

“What?! Are you serious!” Richard’s voice rose in both pitch and volume. “Phil, darling, it really didn’t mean anything! It’s you I want to be with!”

“But I don’t want to be with you. You’ve been lying to me and you’ve been bringing people I don’t know here for sex behind my back. I can’t live like that.”

“I’ll stop! I promise!” Richard’s voice was tearful.

“Rich. Please. Don’t…make this any harder than it is.” Phil turned away again. The ducks were still shagging. It looked like the lady duck was drowning. “Please just go. And leave me your key. You can stay with Peter or someone tonight; you’ve got lots of friends. I just…can’t.” His heart hurt. Richard’s sobbing cut him to the quick.

“You bastard!” Richard spat out. “I didn’t have to move in here with you, you know! It was you who asked me!”

“And now I’m asking you to move out.” Phil folded his arms. He was having trouble holding on to his composure. “I’ll ring Peter now and ask him if you can stay there tonight. He’s got a spare room.”

He moved out to the hallway and picked up the telephone. “You can pack some clothes while I do it.”

And that was that. Just over a year of unwedded bliss destroyed by another man’s underpants left in the bathroom.

Fashion Museum, Bath

Firstly apologies for the lateness of this post. However, I’ve been collecting blog material! We’ve been on holiday near Bath and we went to the Fashion Museum earlier in the week. I was primarily focused on looking at clothing from the 1770s and 1780s for Edie and for Jones.

The trouble with collections of historical clothing is that you only get the really expensive things or the things their owners didn’t like much that survive. And you don’t get a great deal of working people’s clothing, because they literally wore it until it had holes and then it got cut down and repurposed. Clothing was so much more expensive and energy-intensive than it is today. Everything was woven and sewn by hand.

These gowns and petticoats from the 1770s and 1780s are much more Edie’s sort of thing than Jones’, although I do imagine Jones stuffed in to the one with the blue quilted petticoats when she was visiting her aunt in England. And perhaps the one with the yellow gown and stomacher for more formal occasions. I can definitely see Edie in the pale pink effort with all the embroidery on the front when she first meets Jones at the ball. (High waists a la Jane Austen only came in around about 1794 as far as I can make out).

Once the pair of them are travelling, they revert to much simpler clothes. I imagine Jones wearing something like this… it’s based on a working man’s coat from about 1780, made of wool.

I am still in debate with myself over whether Jones would wear local clothing once she gets home to the mountains. I think she might need to stay in western garb because I am not confident enough to write about regional clothing without getting it wrong and that seems disrespectful.

Edie doesn’t feel right going for breeches, however comfortable they might be. So she compromises by wearing ‘stays’ or ‘bodies’ (which is what she calls them) that lower class women, who had no help getting dressed, wore. They lace up the front rather than the back, so you can do them yourself. This is really interesting little video of a working woman getting dressed.

The little things… how you deal with menstruation, what pins you use in your hair, how often you change your stockings… those are all things that tend not to get referenced in contemporary texts because it was all such normal stuff that you didn’t need to. Everyone knew about it. There’s a good blog post about Georgian personal hygiene by the Word Wenches and I think I may have mentioned Madame Isis’ blog before.

Next week I am back to regular scheduling and I am interviewing Naomi Aoki!


PS: As we came out of the museum and went to find the old fashioned sweetshop, we fell over a coach and four. Netflix are filming the Bridgerton series of books by Julia Quinn.

research rabbit hole: historical lamps

As you know, I self-id as a complete and utter history nerd and I regularly get sucked down research rabbit holes. I find that I get stuck on how something would work so fixedly that I can’t move on with the story until I’ve worked it out in my own head. A lot of this doesn’t make it in to the book, because it’s simply not necessary for the plot for everyone else to know how corn was harvested in 1920, or what precise underwear working women wore in the mid-eighteenth century, or, in this particular case, what lanterns someone would have used to explore a cave system in the Himalayas in 1780.

This stuffed me for lighting solutions, because advances in oil lamp technology didn’t actually happen until 1780, with the invention of the Argand Lamp by, wait for it, Aime Argand.

Jones and Edith were therefore left with either a candle lantern or a more primitive oil lantern for their explorations. I have allowed them a few candles brought with them from home. But the lighting in the region was primarily from oil lamps, usually using clarified butter or vegetable oil. So I thought that Jones, being very well prepared, would probably have an oil lantern and a candle in her pocket for emergencies. Oil lanterns can have more than one wick for additional light – this YouTube video is a really worthwhile watch.

After watching that, I made myself a little lamp with olive oil and a bit of cotton string supported out of it with some wire, in a glass jar. It gave enough light to hang out and chat, but not really enough to read by unless you were right next to it. I guess more wicks in the jar would make a difference.

My next project is to take the cream off our fortnightly milk delivery, make butter, clarify the butter and see how I get on with that.

One thing that shouldn’t be underestimated is the very real risk of fire with all of these open light sources. There’s a reason that there were stiff penalties for having an open flame below decks on a ship. Horn lanterns, with scraped thin panels of animal horn to protect the flame, served a double purpose – to protect the flame from being blow out, but to also slow down fire if the lamp was dropped or toppled over.

Don’t try this at home without something close by to extinguish flames if something goes wrong!

 

research rabbit-holes for june

The last few weeks’ research rabbit-holes have been pretty varied. I’m still flailing around in the Himalayas and in eighteenth century India for Flowers of Time and on top of that I’m still fact-checking for Inheritance of Shadows.  This is the stack of reading I took away on holiday last week.

It turns out that Rob in Inheritance needs to know about Trench Code, which I didn’t even know was a thing until I started researching codes used by the British in World War One. I’m reading Secret Warriors by Taylor Downing to get some background on Rob’s career in Signals. Or… was he involved with something more Intelligence-led? I’m also reading A Country Twelvemonth by Fred Archer to give me a chronological background to the farming year in the 1920s and I may give Cider with Rosie by Laurie Lee another read – I haven’t touched it since it was one of the set texts for my O-levels in 1986. Although I enjoyed it before then, deconstructing it for an exam completely soured me to it.

The pile also includes a couple of books about Kew and Marian North, who was a Victorian plant collector and illustrator. Edie in Flowers of Time is inspired by her, although Edie predates Marian by a century.

Tabs open in my browser this morning include Keeping Clean in the Eighteenth Century, Ladakh, the index to Lady’s Magazine, a google search for images of deserted forts of the Himalayas, a page about the monastery of Phugtal Gompta, the abstract of an article about eighteenth century circulating libraries, and (still) the article about the eighteenth century seed trade, because I keep going back to it to absorb a bit more.

That’s it for this time!