Above painting: Louis Jean Francois - Mars and Venus an Allegory of Peace

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Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Women and Piracy

Women as pirates? You bet. There are a few notable female pirates—Anne Bonny, Mary Read, Grace O’Malley, Ching Shih, and more. But why turn to piracy? For the same reasons as men, only many had to do so incognito.
Anne Bonny
Women’s equality has always been a topic of discussion. Whether it be in opportunity, pay, rights or freedom, the fairer sex has struggled with gender discrimination for, like, ever. You can bet, if men had few options in life, women had fewer. There were only a handful of professions a woman could fill that was morally acceptable—milliners, seamstress, laundress, confectioners, food vendors, midwives, and, of course, domestic servants. In that, it stands to reason that those jobs were not as plentiful as the women to fill them. And if a girl was lucky enough to land a job, she often faced very low wages, poor treatment, and was often the target of wanted sexual attention or abuse. A woman not born into the upper echelons might hope to marry into a wealthy, respectable family and even play a role in the family business or estate management. But she would occupy a small percentage of her demographic. Being well-off didn’t ensure a lifetime of security and most women fell into the poor or middle-class social caste. Therefore, there were more women scratching out a life of survival than their privileged sisters. From raising families to politics, no matter the era, women’s roles in society is a veritably complex subject.
When times were hard. Being a woman made them harder. Being a poor woman was worse. The same lure of a better life, adventure, earning a wage, and learning a trade that appealed to men also appealed to women—especially if she was begging for food or forced into thieving or prostitution. Going to sea, though extremely harsh, was actually a better choice than staying on land. Bonus, there were regular meals. Most of the time. It wasn’t always young women making the decision to gamble on impersonating as a seaman, either. Sometimes girls followed their lovers or wives followed their husbands to sea rather than be destitute and/or alone.
She dressed as a lad and was caught.
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Women were not accepted on pirate ships. They were considered bad luck and a distraction. (I’ve was once told this when I asked my employer to move me to a predominately male part of the company. Humph.) Remember, voyages were long. There was the danger of sexual assault and in-fighting among men over a woman. The fairer sex (along with young boys) were not allowed to sign the ship’s articles. But did that stop the few determined, intrepid ladies. Nope. They faked it, dressed and behaved like young men.
How did they get away with it? They would change their name, cut their hair, bound their breasts with cloth tightly around their bodies, and wear loose fitting clothes, all to appear more masculine. Since the crew slept in their clothes and bathing was practically nonexistent, the chance anyone would see her naked was slim. Menstruation wasn’t much of an issue. The likely reason is that low body fat and improper nutrition restricts the body’s periodic menses. How convenient.
Like with any other occupation, women, posing as new sailors, would “learn the ropes” of sailing. The unforgiving conditions and daily chores strengthened their bodies. These ladies kept up with their male counterparts while avoiding casting suspicion upon their gender. No wilting flower could survive as a seaman, living essentially a lie as a man. To be a pirate meant the woman would be extraordinary. She have to not only be tough, but daring and courageous. And that very well could be scarier than any male pirate.
About the Author

Jennifer is the award-winning author of the Romancing the Pirate series. Visit her at www.jbrayweber.com or join her mailing list for sneak peeks, excerpts, and giveaways.

Thursday, July 7, 2016

Dunnottar Castle: The Setting for STOLEN BY THE LAIRD


Dunnottar Castle is a mesmerizing, magical place, set high up on a cliff. When I was doing research for my new book. STOLEN BY THE LAIRD, I watched many videos on the castle. And this was one of them!

Take a look inside Brody and Guinevere's world!





ABOUT THE BOOK:

She was supposed to be his prize... But not all rewards are sweet...

Laird Brody Keith, Marischal of Scotland, has been asked by his future king to travel with William Wallace to Dunnottar Castle, where they will seize the castle back from the English. If he completes his mission, the castle, the land and all it holds, will be his. Brody is more than eager to sink his blade into the hearts of his enemies after the brutal murder of his sister and father. But what he doesn't count on is finding an English lass in need of his protection...

Lady Guinevere has led a less than pleasant life in Scotland over the past year, and now she can either run for her life or accept the proposal of a man who should be her enemy. Survival bids her to acquiesce, but that doesn't mean she has to play nice. Except, she's coming to adore the people whom she's always been told she should hate, and respect the man who risked his life for her.


Joined for a mutual purpose, Brody and Guinevere seem doomed from the start, but as time passes and their true enemies draw closer, they'll form an alliance that not even the devil himself can break.


READ IT!  



ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Eliza Knight is an award-winning and USA Today bestselling indie author of sizzling historical romance and erotic romance. Under the name E. Knight, she pens rip-your-heart-out historical fiction. While not reading, writing or researching for her latest book, she chases after her three children. In her spare time (if there is such a thing…) she likes daydreaming, wine-tasting, traveling, hiking, staring at the stars, watching movies, shopping and visiting with family and friends. She lives atop a small mountain with her own knight in shining armor, three princesses and two very naughty puppies. Visit Eliza at http://www.elizaknight.comor her historical blog History Undressed: www.historyundressed.com

Tuesday, July 5, 2016

A LIVING HOUSE OF TERROR by Kathleen Bittner Roth



Welcome back to History Undressed, our regular first Tuesday blogger and author, Kathleen Bittner Roth! Kathleen Bittner Roth! 


A HOUSE OF TERROR

The former  Headquarters of Two Terrible Regimes

by Kathleen Bittner Roth

My late husband Hans, was German, born well after WWII. For whatever reason, I never asked Hans how he felt about Hitler and the people who joined in with him. About a year before my husband passed away, we were sitting in a restaurant across from each other when I finally gathered the courage to ask the question I had hesitated to ask for so long.

“I have tried to wrap my mind and heart around what it would be like to live under the radical leadership of a man like Hitler. After spending so much time in Germany and visiting your parents, I don’t understand how people could’ve let this happen. How has this terrible part of Germany’s history affected you?”

I saw pain flash through Hans’s eyes. He said, “I don’t get it either, Kathleen. How could a cultured people who raised up the likes of people like Goethe, commit such abominable acts?" He said, and rightly so, that at first the people did not know Hitler was insane, or that he was up to no good, because he’d brought Germany back from the brink of total bankruptcy, had given everybody jobs, and had rid the country of communism. By the time the people realized the truth, it was too late.
As I said, Hans was born after the war, but when he went into the first grade, he was told by the teacher that all Germans had to accept historical guilt for what Hitler had done. Frightened, Hans ran away from school. He told his parents, “I didn’t know that guy, why should I feel guilty?”

Even at the age of six, Hans knew his own mind and refused to accept responsibility for a war that was over before he was born, and for what Hitler had done. But when questioned further, Hans told me he’d always felt pain for what had occurred.

I thought of his parents, both German teenagers during the war, one living in Southern Hungary, the other in what is now northern Serbia. They were young innocents caught up in a war they wanted nothing to do with run by a political party they wanted no part of. Both of these teenagers ended up in the hands of Russians—the supposed co-liberators of the war.

His parents were sent to concentration camps not so very different from what the Nazis had set up. Shoeless during the Siberian winters, and with barely enough to eat, both nearly died of mysterious illnesses. By sheer will alone, they managed to survive years in those cold, horrid Russian camps. 

We were living an idyllic life along the Adriatic Coast of Croatia when Hans took ill. We rushed him to a specialized hospital in Hungary but he passed two months later. I had to remain in Budapest to take care of legal matters. As part of my grief process, I would walk and walk around the city. I thought of the Hungarians who had it particularly rough during the Communist era, and whose population dwindled during Russia’s wieldy grip. Although there were no death camps like those the Nazis constructed, there were prisons, both the Gulag and local ones. Sadly, Russia was little different from the Nazis in her terrible rule of Eastern Europe.


There is something called The Terror Museum in Budapest which is located not far from me. It was the actual headquarters of the Nazi command, followed by the Russian command. The museum is living proof of what went on under both the Nazi and Russian rule. It took a long while for me to work up the pluck to enter that museum. I finally realized that I had a responsibility to what happened to those who died during this terrible time. I found the museum equally split between the Nazi occupation of Budapest, and the Russian occupation. Both were devastating. Judging by the name, I thought the Terror Museum would resemble a Hollywood movie, exaggerated and overdone.
I was wrong.



Everything in the museum was real, the artifacts were real, and the actual black and white films were real. So was the conference table surrounded by slick military uniforms of the Russian and German commands? I was guided to the basement where the torture rooms were left just as they were when the Russians took over from the Nazis, and left as they were when communism fell. I have Hungarian friends who were tortured down there, most for crimes against the state they never committed. 



In the end, I left feeling as though I’d gone to a kind of mass that paid homage to those who died during those terrible times. I noticed that as I filed out of the building, those exiting with me appeared to be in the same state of reverence. We left in silence and continued our silence into the street. About two blocks away, I started thinking, were those angels painted on the walls as I exited? Were there statues of cherubs? 


I shook my head as if to clear the cobwebs. To this day, I don’t know if I saw these seraphim and cherubim painted on the walls or if they had symbolically gathered in the reverent corridors of my mind.




Kathleen Bittner Roth thrives on creating passionate stories featuring characters who are forced to draw on their strength of spirit to overcome adversity and find unending love. Her own fairy tale wedding in a Scottish castle led her to her current residence in Budapest, Hungary, considered one of Europe’s most romantic cities. However, she still keeps one boot firmly in Texas and the other in her home state of Minnesota. A member of Romance Writers of America®, she was a finalist in the prestigious Golden Heart® contest. Find Kathleen on Facebook, Goodreads, Twitter, Pinterest and www.kathleenbittnerroth.com.


PORTRAIT OF A FORBIDDEN LADY is book two in Those Magnificent Malverns series: A young widow returns to her childhood home after a forced absence and faces her first and only love, but despite their powerful attraction, danger compels her to remain his forbidden lady.  ORDER YOUR COPY!

THE SEDUCTION OF SARAH MARKS is book one in Those Magnificent Malverns series: When a proper Victorian miss awakens next to a handsome stranger, she must rely on the man's benevolence as she struggles to regain her memory and hold onto her heart. ORDER YOUR COPY!

Thursday, June 30, 2016

New Release! STOLEN BY THE LAIRD by Eliza Knight

Happy Thursday! I'm thrilled to announce the release of my newest novel, STOLEN BY THE LAIRD!

ABOUT THE BOOK:

She was supposed to be his prize... But not all rewards are sweet...

Laird Brody Keith, Marischal of Scotland, has been asked by his future king to travel with William Wallace to Dunnottar Castle, where they will seize the castle back from the English. If he completes his mission, the castle, the land and all it holds, will be his. Brody is more than eager to sink his blade into the hearts of his enemies after the brutal murder of his sister and father. But what he doesn't count on is finding an English lass in need of his protection...

Lady Guinevere has led a less than pleasant life in Scotland over the past year, and now she can either run for her life or accept the proposal of a man who should be her enemy. Survival bids her to acquiesce, but that doesn't mean she has to play nice. Except, she's coming to adore the people whom she's always been told she should hate, and respect the man who risked his life for her.

Joined for a mutual purpose, Brody and Guinevere seem doomed from the start, but as time passes and their true enemies draw closer, they'll form an alliance that not even the devil himself can break.




EXCERPT:

Brody pushed the door open the remainder of the way and came face to face with four Englishwomen. They huddled by the window, dressed in Sassenach gowns, hair once styled as though they were attending a great feast, jewels at their necks, and tears adorning each face except for one.
“Och, but I’ve died and gone to Hell,” he muttered.
Everyone knew Englishwomen were as shrewish as… well as, an Englishwoman, and as cold as dead fish.
All four stared at him, wide-eyed, mouths hung agape.
Much like fish, he thought.
They were pretty enough, especially the one with the long flowing blonde locks. Though it looked as though her locks had seen better days, perhaps not to have been torn from whatever fancy knot they’d been in.
“Who are ye?” he asked in not too kind a tone. He didn’t want any shrewish behavior, simply facts.
The blonde stepped forward, squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eye with her piercing blue—nay more green than blue—eyes. She was the only one who didn’t cry. As though she’d been expecting him. The lass was beautiful, even if she was a harpy. Her bone structure was delicate, but her eyes sharp, and the way she frowned, well, he guessed her tongue to be just as barbed. The gown accentuated the curve of her hips and the swell of marginal breasts—he refused to call them the perfect size, for she was English, and he denied finding anything about her to be flawless.
“Who are you?” she retorted.
Och, a fiery little fish. “I asked ye first.”
“Well”—her gaze roved from the top of his head down to his boot tips and he felt more than a little assessed—“I think it is plain to see I outrank you, savage, so you must answer me first.”
At her bold words the ladies in her presence all paled, one covered her mouth, another pinched her own arms and the third nodded approval.
Brody chuckled, taking a menacing step forward. “Then I suppose we have found ourselves at an impasse, fishy, for I do believe I outrank ye.”
“Fishy? Ye insult me.” She shook her head and regarded him with something akin to disgust. “Impossible.”
Her revulsion almost had him checking himself. How odd, and why should he even wonder at her manners? She was English after all. Every woman he’d ever met up to this point had fallen at his feet. Brody was known for his charismatic tongue, his lovemaking abilities. Well, this fish wouldn’t know those things. And from the looks of her, she’d be too uptight to enjoy the pleasures he could have given her, if he wanted to, which he wouldn’t.
Brody puffed his chest and took several steps forward. “I assure ye, madam, given your current situation, anything is possible.”
Two of her ladies fainted dead away and the third stepped in front of the blonde, only to be shoved behind, a sharp word from the Grande Fishy’s mouth.
Then she turned back to him, pursing her lips as though she were contemplating a truce.
Before she could speak, he cut her off. “I dinna make deals, lass. If ye dinna believe me, then take a look out your window at the kirk yonder.”
“So you intend to kill us then?” Despite the stubborn set to her jaw and shoulders, her lower lip quivered.
Och, but why did that slight tremble have to tug at his heart? “We shall see what comes to pass.”



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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Eliza Knight is an award-winning and USA Today bestselling indie author of sizzling historical romance and erotic romance. Under the name E. Knight, she pens rip-your-heart-out historical fiction. While not reading, writing or researching for her latest book, she chases after her three children. In her spare time (if there is such a thing…) she likes daydreaming, wine-tasting, traveling, hiking, staring at the stars, watching movies, shopping and visiting with family and friends. She lives atop a small mountain with her own knight in shining armor, three princesses and two very naughty puppies. Visit Eliza at http://www.elizaknight.comor her historical blog History Undressed: www.historyundressed.com