Arthur Conan Doyle and Downton Abbey at Baconthorpe Castle Part 1

The first thing that greets you at Baconthorpe Castle is the outer gatehouse, which was built around 1560 by Sir Christopher Heydon I. His lordship of the castle seems to coincide with the high point of the Heydon family. Like the Crawley family in the TV series Downton Abbey, the Heydon family by this time had a large manor house inside the inner castle courtyard, and employed around 80 servants.

At first glance, Sir Christopher Heydon I (1518-1579) seems to have benefitted from a period of relative peace in England, falling between the War of the Roses in the 15th Century and the English Civil War in the 17th Century. But then you have to remember that Henry VIII ruled England during the first half of the 16th Century. His government could have been described as anything but placid.

By 1560, when the outer gatehouse was finished, English Christians had been rocked by the formation of the Church of England and the Dissolution of the Monasteries, ultra-progressive protestant rule of Henry's son Edward, and the ultra-Catholic rule of his daughter Mary. No wonder Sir Christopher decided he needed an outer gatehouse, as well as a larger defensive wall to surround the property. 

Oh, and he also decided to crenellate the buildings and walls around this period too, which would give his guards and soldiers better defensive positions.

The stretch of land between the outer and inner gatehouse gives you some scope of what was essentially a manor house and surrounding lands. The area off to the right would have been a large formal garden, completed by Christopher Heydon II (1561-1623). He was a solder, as well as a Member of Parliament and a writer of astrology books. 

The second Christopher's militaristic nature got him into trouble in 1601 when he took part in the Essex Rebellion against Queen Elizabeth I. Unlike the 100 Years War, and the War of the Roses, the Essex Rebellion was a comparatively small affair of short duration. Nevertheless, he fought on the wrong side, against Elizabeth, and ended up being fined and sent to prison.

Still, even if his warring nature got the better of him, and he proved an unwise estate manager, at least he appreciated the beauty of nature, as he built a mere as well as the formal gardens.

A moat surrounds the castle. You have to walk across what was once a drawbridge, and is now a permanent walking bridge, to access the inner gatehouse and castle interior. The Inner Gatehouse was built by the founding member of the family castle, built by William Baxton around 1460. 

At first, you might ask why he built such defenses, as this would have been just after the 100 Years War, which lasted from 1337 to 1453. But then you have to remember that the War of the Roses, which lasted from 1455 to 1485, had already begun. Anyone who had significant assets back then, and wanted to protect their family back then, would have owned a defensible manor or castle like Sir Nigel Loring in Arthur Conan Doyle's novel The White Company. 

Although William died rich, and got the castle off to a good start, his son changed the family name to Heydon, as William was a self-made man. Perhaps patrons like William de la Pole, the Duke of Suffolk and a prominent military leader in the 100 Years War, disliked the Baxton name. Or perhaps, John felt that Heydon sounded more prestigious than Baxton in the fifteenth century. 

After all, young immigrant Bedrich Polouvicka changed his name to Richard DeVere in the sitcom To The Manor Born, and went on to found a popular UK chain of supermarkets. And the Heydon family would go on to become major players in the wool trade, which was one of England's major industries in medieval times.

Dragon Dave 

Review: Spine of the Dragon by Kevin J. Anderson Part 3

St. Edmundsbury Cathedral
Bury St. Edmunds, England

The Science Fiction and Fantasy genres have always had an uneasy relationship with religion. Usually, if religion is mentioned, it is portrayed in a negative context, as in Kevin J. Anderson’s early novel Resurrection, Inc. Some of this can readily be explained by the sad fact that the proponents of religion and science so often feel opposed to each other. As for the Fantasy field, if novels revolve around gods, usually the author pits the mortal characters against these divine beings. While this approach stacks the odds against our protagonists, it does nothing to enhance a reader’s spiritual life.

In Kevin J. Anderson’s novel Spine of the Dragon, Key Priestlord Klovus glories in destruction, and yearns to impose his will over the entire world. He nurtures his godlings not only on small amounts of worshippers’ blood, but also drains all blood from wounded sailors and prisoners of war before casting their corpses aside. His assassins brutally kill one another as part of their regimen, so Klovus will always have the very best murderers at his beck and call. And he does other things, too despicable to mention in this review. Despite Anderson’s strong portrayal of villainy—or perhaps because of it--the character never spoke to me. But Klovus is just one among a host of fully rounded characters that won me over with their passions, their bravery, and their all-too-Human foibles.

With such a strikingly negative portrayal of religion, it would have been nice to see a more beneficial one practiced in the Commonwealth. Still, Anderson throws out an interesting theological construct here. Unlike the Wreths, who were created by a god, the Humans were fashioned out of magic by the Wreths. Thus, like the featureless simpleminded drones that now serve the Wreths, the Humans have no souls, and only what they do in this life matters.

Perhaps it is unfair to suggest that the Isharan religion is entirely negative. For when Queen Iluris tours her districts in search of a potential successor, she discovers that all priests do not share Klovus’ lust for power and death. A few call upon their godling only after they have exhausted every other resource, and then only for protection and healing. Perhaps it is too much to hope that Klovus might learn from their example, and become a more sympathetic character in future volumes. But sometimes the blackest villains end up surprising you.

Kevin J. Anderson may yet reveal more aspects of Priestlord Klovus, or his everyday life, that will help his features stand out amid the darkness. For example, Kevin and his wife have several cats. Klovus could adopt a white, longhaired cat, and stroke it in key scenes like another classic villain. 

Tamworth Castle Gardens
Tamworth, England

As flowers usually grace our sanctuaries, and gardens often beautify church grounds, Priestlord Klovus could take up gardening. With the way he can channel magic, and the aid of his Godling, it would be interesting to see what types of flowers Klovis could grow in the magic-infused Isharan soil. After all, he would like to marry Queen Iluris, who has a beautiful garden on the palace grounds. Perhaps planting and nurturing a garden would be the way to win her heart?

You can never know how the next volume of a Kevin J. Anderson series will go. As a longtime reader of his novels, he surprised me with the level of originality he built into Spine of the Dragon. While charting the rising tensions between Ishara and the Commonwealth, as well as between the Humans and the Wreths, perhaps Kevin will devote a little time to showing a softer side to Priestlord Klovus. I look forward to seeing how Klovus, and Anderson’s depiction of religion and theology, grow and evolve over the course of the series.

In the meantime, perhaps I should devote a little more attention to my own garden. Even unaided by magic, I’m sure if I worked harder, I could make it more productive and beautiful. In this way, I could enhance my house and my life, while also blessing the lives of those around me.

St Edmundsbury Cathedral
Bury St. Edmunds, England

As for the whole cat thing, well, I think I’ll leave that to Kevin and his wife.

Dragon Dave