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@thebullen
Walk the room like you’re on fire,
Like you’re chasing the truth, gripping tight to your youth
I want to conceive again. I want to conceive a son. A son to be the living image of his father.
I just finished binge-watching the first two seasons of this show, and I had to stop and make a vid dedicated to this amazing, fierce queen. HD is your friend!
There now, don’t weep. Don’t weep my Own Darling. It’s alright. Everything will be alright.
Posted by Steven Payne to Facebook group British Medieval History:
People in the Middle Ages valued sweet smelling breath and bodies, seeing them as desirable, so there is a great deal of evidence from the period of tooth pastes, powders and deodorants. Contrary to the typical Hollywood depiction of medieval peasants with blackened and rotting teeth, the average person had teeth which were in fairly good condition, mainly due to the rarity of sugar in the diet. Most medieval people could not afford sugar and those who could used it sparingly. Archaeological data shows that only 20% of teeth had signs of decay, as opposed to 90% in the early twentieth century. The main dental problem for medieval people was not decay but wear, due to a high content of grit in the main staple, bread. For deodorants, soap was available for the wealthy, but a variety of herbs and other preparations were also used. Soapwort is a plant native to Europe and Asia which, when soaked in water, produces an effective liquid soap. Mint, cloves and thyme were also extensively used by simply rubbing into the skin, and alum (hydrated potassium aluminium sulphate) was an effective deodorant. I am trying to keep to 14th century technology on my pilgrimage to Canterbury, which gives me various options when looking at hygiene. In the middle ages people generally cleaned their teeth by rubbing them and their gums with a rough linen cloth, or the chewed end of a stick. There are various recipes for pastes and powders that could be put on the cloth to help clean the teeth, but I have chosen simple salt to whiten them and to aid fresh breath. I will also be using the stick method, and will be taking along a supply of liquorice root sticks for that purpose. I also have a few blocks of alum, which when rubbed into wet skin has a deodorising effect. Alum, like beeswax, was used extensively in the middle ages for a variety of purposes, also being useful: * in the purification of drinking water as a flocculant * as a styptic to stop bleeding from minor cuts * as a pickling agent to help keep pickles crisp * as a flame retardant * as an ingredient in modelling clay * as an ingredient in cosmetics and skin whiteners * as an ingredient in some brands of toothpaste The photograph shows my wash kit including home made olive oil soap, salt for the teeth, a block of deodorising alum, cloves, a boxwood comb made for me by Peter Crossman of Crossman Crafts and some liquorice root sticks, all on a woollen ‘towel’. Note that the cloves are kept in a ventilated box….this is because insects hate the smell of cloves and so a perforated box will keep them out of my kit and food bag when I am sleeping rough. TIP: If you steep some cloves to obtain the oil and put the liquid around the doors and windows of your house, it keeps spiders and insects out.
Pay attention medieval-ish fantasy authors- filthy people without any cleaning or self care is Not Historical.
Arcangelo Corelli, Sonate a violino e violone o cimbalo, op. 5 no. 12 “la Follia,” Sigiswald Kuijken, violin, Wieland Kuijken, violoncello, and Robert Kohnen, harpsichord
@thesellsword
She is intoxicated. Unruly. Undignified for a woman of her station. Unwarranted of a Queen. But what cares she of such a judgement? She is rough and well worn. She desires company as crass as herself this night.
“Come, Ser. I desire my knights to be hearty. You will drink with me.”
There be no suggestion in her syllables.
Only order.
You taste of tragedy. Your lips are ash. Your hands are stone. Inside your chest Lies crumbling walls. And in your throat Are the embers of Empires that burned Before your eyes.
W. (via the-write-ideas)
anne boleyn meme // (1/9) outfits → wolf hall
I love the brisk taste of wine on my tongue and the burning colour of blood, of pomegranates. Crimson moves me. Crimson makes my heart beat like an adolescent’s; the red of liquor, of muscle, of wounds— of your mouth and your cheeks…
Pauline Albanese, from The Closed Doors (via opalescentegg)
get to know me: characters {2/?} | anne boleyn “I know how I got there. And it was not all you. It was not all you or Norfolk or George or any other man you want to name! It was also me. He fell in love with me, he respected me and my opinions.”
How Like You This //@threecardtrick
There were some who found joy in the fallen queen’s position, but he did not. For as much as they have fought against another and how her desires — but they had not been hers alone — had led to the downfall of his late master, he does not relish having to come here. The king might have perhaps thought he would, considering he had specially sent him when anyone would do. Perhaps the king thought that he could pull from her a confession of her deeds, where others have failed to do so. To confirm that he was right in this matter, just as he was in all others. But there was little that could be taken from her now, least of all this sought after truth. There was no truth that could change any of this. He had quietly entered the room, lacking any kind of smug strut. He stood, hands respectfully folded in front of him as he awaited for her to speak. From the first word it is apparent that the fire of her soul is waning, as if she is but a small, flickering flame now. In an instant she knew why he had come. Would he come on his volition, without orders? The answer to that likely didn’t matter either. She asked a question that at another time would have come out as confident and when a specific answer would be compelled from him. To give to her as she expected, as she expected everyone to. But she cannot compel him anything from him now. From anyone.
“Not today,” he answered with that sobering but calm tone that he seemed to utter all words with. As if things might be different tomorrow.
The truth is she had no stomach for food. She has denied all source of sustenance as of late. Let her Lord, the King, dine on dishes of sweet silver and gaudy gold; peering at his new paramour, common lusts obscured behind jewel encrusted goblets...their love making so obvious as to already be obsolete.
She was the first to take that foot to virgin snow, capture his imagination, ensnare his senses...what the Seymour uses now is nothing but stale tricks in comparison. A pale imitation. Henry always did alight to those set apart from the previous. A novel prince...he did not care to repeat himself. At least in no way that was easily discernible to the common citizen.
Much as Cromwell was the pupil of his predecessor he was entirely the opposite.
Her gaze flicks, no more than a moth’s touch, over his frame. Sombre, sober Thomas. No bite has passed her lips, but much wine. Her gaze turns heavy lidded and she, this fallen Queen, knows with all certainty...he can do no more to harm her. No more than he already has at the King’s behest. No one escapes His Majesty...not even his most faithful and loving of servants, those most engendered to his cause and pleasure.
She is no servant. She is soon to fly. And she takes pity on he, who must remain behind. The King will not be so easily placated...now that he has a taste for bloodshed.
Yes. She pities him. Her once ally. He will have much to set to rights once she is dead and gone. Those who come after her will know the game better, and worse still, they will raise the stakes until such persons as he...are removed entirely from the playing.
She sees his future as surely as she sees her own. And a smile graces her lips. Warmly she cajoles:
“Come. Sup with me.
‘Tis long since I entertained
company of such import but for
my guards.”
He will not deny her.
Something so simple, so plain.
Not as she is now.
But even in this barren bower
she is not without her
advantages.
Meet the Boleyns: Sir Thomas Boleyn (Mark Rylance), Mary Boleyn (Scarlett Johansson) and Anne Boleyn (Natalie Portman) from ‘The Other Boleyn Girl’ (2008)
During the Queen’s sojourn in the Tower, the King continued to keep a low profile. He did not venture beyond the gardens of York Place, save for short jaunts along the Thames in the evening, banqueting with the ladies in his barge and returning after midnight… he was behaving, according to Chapuys, ‘like a man who had rid himself of a thin, old and vicious hack in the hope of getting again a fine horse to ride’.
Excerpt from ‘Henry VIII: King and Court’ by Alison Weir (2001) on the subject of Henry’s behaviour during Anne Boleyn’s imprisonment in the Tower of London. (via boleyn36)