Yesterday passed most pleasant. I kept close to my lord and saw nowt amiss. There was choice meats served for dinner, and I ate of them.
I believe we must thank my lady Moll’s cook, because my lord’s cook was not in the kitchen when I looked in.
Today I saw my lord and a pawful of his gentlemen ride out. Some had hawks (vile birds that have been known to take kitlings) on their wrists. I arrkst myself if they was going to Tommik’s house.
This evening it was my intent to visit my sister, but Linkin came by calling, “Newes, hot newes, now,” beneath our windows.
I slipt out and made haste to our Field. My sister was there before me. She had with her my pretty little niece, who was the Maggot in our play.
Linkin walked to the centre of our circle. He told us that his mistress had been to visit friends in another country [county], and come home with word of murder.
Two brothers, seduced by the devil and accompanied by their friends, attacked a gentleman with divers weapons.
The younger of these brothers had a pistol loaded with powder and a lead bullet, and he shot said gentleman. The bullet (sayt Linkin) passed through his body, most like through his heart.
Then the brothers fled. None knows where they are, but many say they rode this way. The hue and cry has been proclaimed.
Linkin sayt they will soon be taken. For who would be so fool as to hazard theirselves to help them?
A young cat from our stable was present. I knowed she was thinking the same as I, but we kept our thoughts well hid.
Viz, that these brothers and their friends are the gentlemen we spake of not long since.
And I’d guessed they’re hid at Tommik’s house, where my lord may be now.
Other cats called their liking of Linkin’s newes. It joyed them to hear of men tormenting each other instead of us poor cats. Then most ran off.
I saw that the stable cat made haste away, too. Doubtless she wished to be first home with the newes.
Once all were gone, Nero, Linkin, my sister (with her kit, all ears) and I met for private talk, as is our custom.
My sister arrkst, “What do they call the murdered man?”
Linkin sayt, “Harry.”
“And he that kilt him?”
“Sir Harry.”
My little niece sayt, “Our Earl is Harry, too. When all men have the same name, it’s small wonder they’re wicked. You call Harry, and all come running. Who could know which is a villain and which a lord?”
I believe she spake in jest, but I reproved her. I told her she may speak of my lord as his lordship, or as our Earl, but never as Harry. That’s not respective [respectful].
She gave me a saucie look.
Nero sayt, “Most like they miscreants are at the coast, seeking a passage to France. My master is ever willing to do his duty, and will give what aid he can.”
I’m not sure what Nero meant by that. Aid to whom?
Linkin sayt, “Pistols are cowards’ weapons. And rich folks think theirselves above the law. I hope for newes of their arrests soon.”
(Linkin hears that kind of talk in his household of prating puritans.)
I contented myself with saying that I did not expect to hear owt in my household, so far removed am I from the talk of common gossips.
I write this late. My lord has not returned this night, and I do not think he will.
Gib must have written this late on Monday 7 October 1594. The previous Friday, the Danvers (or Davers) brothers, Sir Charles and Sir Henry, burst into a house in Corsham, Wiltshire, where a gentleman called Henry Long was dining with friends.
There are conflicting accounts of what happened next. Premeditated murder, or an attempt to teach someone a lesson that went wrong? However, the coroner’s inquest (held on Saturday) found that Sir Henry Danvers shot and killed Henry Long.
The death was the result of a longstanding feud between the Long and Danvers families. Both Danvers brothers were friends of the young Earl of Southampton. They’d already led the adventurous life he aspired to.
Sir Charles, the elder, was born c.1568. He saw military service in the Netherlands, where he was knighted in 1588. He’d also travelled widely in Europe, collecting books along the way, and seems to have been well-regarded by his contemporaries.
Sir Henry, the younger, was born in 1573. The same age as Gib’s Earl, he’d already served in the Netherlands, first as a page to Renaissance male role-model Sir Philip Sidney (who died as a result of a wound received at the Battle of Zutphen 1586), and later as a soldier. In 1591 he accompanied the Earl of Essex to Normandy on a campaign to support the protestant Henri of Navarre, the nominal King of France. The Earl of Essex knighted Henry Danvers for his part in the siege of Rouen.
Military commanders could confer knighthoods in the field. Young Elizabethan men coveted this type of knighthood, rather than that of a “carpet-knight”.
The Earl of Southampton's Cat 
Men love killing each other. And now the dueling pistol has been replaced by a suicide vest…
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Sad but true.
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They do love their gossip, don’t they ! The cats I mean 🙂
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They do. I think that’s their natural curiosity showing.
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good reading–and interesting historical background.
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Gib’s enjoying the real-life drama.
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Poor kittens!
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You mean the ones at risk from birds of prey?
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More drama than Gib’s play. Things are getting darker.
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They are indeed. And Nero, with his nautical connections, is sure to find out more.
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Oh, excellent. I like a good mystery.
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I must say that the family members gave more than enough ammunition for lurid gossip!
Ho, hum. Yet another day of murder and mayhem …
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No TV in those days. They had to make their own fun.
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‘I be-eth of a profound lassitude and boredom. I cannot find a lass or tude so methinks I shall venture out and shoot someone.’
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I think the pretty little niece deserves to be taken more seriously. She is either a poet or a philosopher or a human resources officer. All writers would do well to take note: “When all men have the same name, it’s small wonder they’re so wicked.” Moreover in a novel, characters with similar names confuse both reader and writer. Good on you, Niecy.
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I suspect Gib’s niece has aspirations. He may well come to regret having given her a part in his play; it may have gone to her head.
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The plot thickens like a roux sauce.
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I simply love your blog! I’m both a cat person (owned by four: Sissy, Ophelia, Kiwi and Black Bean) and a lover of mysteries and all things Elizabethan! Thank you for following me on my own blog, “Let Us Live Like We Mean It.” I hope you will enjoy some of my posts, and I would love to hear any comments you might have, not for reasons of “stats,” but because I’d really like to know what you think!
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Thanks!
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My first read of this kind of story telling, but, oh! Oh, it is so impressive!
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Thanks!
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I am scribing this for my Catt Percy as he hath not yet his paw about the quill. ‘Forsooth’ quoth Percy, ‘such Scandal!! Mine whiskers are a-quiver, yea, even mine eyebrow-whiskers and the fairy-whiskers astern mine mighty murderous claws. Verily….!’
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I’m so glad Percy is enthralled! (With a name like his, he’s sure to have had an ancestor in the Earl of Northumberland’s household.) I gather from one of Gib’s earlier writings that he holds his pen between the toes of one foot, paws not being quite up to the task.
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Fabulous pictures, Denise. Even the picture of Harry, which is saved from being effeminate by the expression on his face.
I liked the subtle caution with which Gib responds to the news, suspecting as he does his own lord’s part in the crime.
Not much changes, some rich folk still think themselves above the law.
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Frans Snyders was good at at painting animals – I’ve used his work, or clips from it, a few times. And the pistol is a work of art, too.
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The pistol must have been something to behold.
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Provided it wasn’t pointed at you!
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Ha ha! It was probably an inaccurate shot anyway.
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I nearly said the cats were living in more violent times, but then thinking about some of the news stories I’ve heard recently, I’m not sure that it’s true. 😦
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I think day-to-day their times were more violent, but our violence tends to take place on a larger scale.
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That seems like a fair assessment of it to me.
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Sadly, mankind is the most violent of earth’s species and the male of the species is unspeakably degenerate and untrustworthy. I think I would sooner be one of your felines, but I had no choice. Oh, pray for me that I evolve into a gentler being. (Love your posts)
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We are a violent species, true. What a pity we haven’t put more collective effort into curbing that tendency. But most people just want to get on with their lives – it’s the malevolent minority that does most of the damage.
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I love the way you weave your cat tale into a real historical event, The pistol is quite beautiful even if they have a deadly and pointless purpose. On a lighter note, I offered my kitlings varied meats (rabbit and chicken medley), the youngest kitling looked at me askance and flounced out of the their dining room (aka utility room). 😼
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Cats can be such picky eaters! A regular food supply seems to give them delusions of grandeur. Just like us.
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Indeed – I am very picky about my organic vegetables. 🙂
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Very nice
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Thanks!
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I loved the little kit’s comment and saucy look. She could grow up to be another Roxie. I’ll have to take a close look at that pistol when I’m next at the Met. It’s quite intricate in design.
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I’d like to see the pistol, too. It’s beautiful.
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