Estonian armor from the early Middle Ages

Travel writer and novelist Sean McLachlan sent in this interesting photo from his recent trip to Estonia. Sean writes:

"I spotted this reconstructed armor in Kiek in de Kök tower in the capital Tallinn. The city is one of the best-preserved medieval old towns in Europe, and this tower is now a museum. Before the medieval city, there was a hillfort at nearby Iru hill from the 6-11th century. Among the many finds from the excavation was this armor.

"It's what's called scale armor, an improvement on leather armor that added metal scales for extra protection. At this period, plate armor didn't exist, and even in more technologically advanced regions like France soldiers wore leather or chain mail."

Sean is the author of the Civil War novel A Fine Likeness, available in paperback and ebook. The ebook is only $2.99 at the moment.

Do you have any interesting photos to share of medieval or Renaissance subjects? Drop me a line!

Medieval Mondays: a Medieval revolver and hand grenade

Today we have another guest post by military historian Sean McLachlan, who wrote a previous post on his research on the accuracy of medieval firearms. Today he's talking about some interesting items he found in the Pitt-Rivers Museum in Oxford.

The Pitt-Rivers is my favorite museum. It is literally stuffed with items from every culture in the world and every period in history, organized not by time and place but by use. In the photo above you can see an early attempt at a "revolver", a four-barreled handgonne! As I mentioned in my previous guest post on medieval firearms, a handgonne was the earliest form of black powder gun, being lit by a burning cord called a slow match instead of any sort of trigger mechanism. They appeared in the 14th century.

It was an age of experimentation in many technologies and firearms were no exception. Several multi-barreled handgonnes survive and they were obviously an attempt to compensate for the handgonne's slow reloading speed. They are a small minority of all handgonnes, though, so apparently they were considered too unwieldy. Perhaps the lack of a single, straight barrel reduced the already poor accuracy.
In the above shot you can see another view of the four-barreled handgonne; a large handgonne just below it still being used in Burma in the 19th century; a leather cannon from Manipur, India, below that; and than a typical "hackbut" type of handgonne below that. The hackbut was especially popular in the Low Countries and came with a hook for bracing against a wall, mantlet, or other object. The other objects are later.

And here you have a medieval hand grenade! This one is Byzantine and used their most famous weapon--Greek Fire. The recipe for Greek Fire is lost but it seems to have been a sort of early napalm. This ceramic jar was filled with Greek Fire and had a lit slow match as a fuse. too bad I didn't have this shot when I wrote my history of the Byzantine Empire! Other grenades survive from the Middle Ages too, and contained gunpowder.

Medieval Mondays: Vampirism in Ancient Egypt

OK, Ancient Egypt isn't exactly medieval, but since I've already gone into the Early Modern period with my witch bottle post, I see no reason not to fall back in time too. It's a blog, not a site report! This guest post comes courtesy of fellow archaeologist and writer Jamie Gibbs.

If you look at almost any culture in the history of the world, you will find that there is some belief, religious or superstitious, that centres on the power and use of blood. Both the Ancient Greeks and the Cherokee tribe believed that menstrual blood flowed back into the womb during pregnancy, which both created and nourished the unborn foetus. It was also thought that the blood of a slain gladiator would cure epilepsy.

Despite the evidence that blood was believed to have been a useful and beneficial liquid, over the years it has become the stuff of taboo and is considered 'unclean'. The consumption of blood is expressly forbidden in the Old Testament: "Be sure you do not eat the blood, for the blood is the life, and you shall not eat the life with the flesh".

This taboo has continued throughout history until we get to the iconic image of those corrupt monsters who crave blood - the vampire. Our image of the modern vampire is very heavily based on the vampires of Eastern Europe, but the idea of vampirism extends farther back in history than is normally thought, back as far and Ancient Egypt.

Probably the most famous case of ' vampirism' in Ancient Egypt surrounds Sekhmet, the goddess of healing and pestilence. In a story known as The Destruction of Mankind, the human race plots against the sun god, Ra. In retaliation, Ra sends the goddess Hathor to lay waste to humanity. The instant that the blood touches her lips, Hathor is transformed into the bloodthirsty and aggressive Sekhmet, who slaughters so many that she wades in their blood up to her knees.

There is also evidence that ordinary Egyptians drank blood in order to increase their existence in the afterlife. In about 2000 BC, Egyptian coffins were inscribed with spells designed to help the deceased reach the afterlife and to protect them while they were there. One of these spells clearly expresses the desire for blood in order to 'keep them alive', "You devoured their hearts, so that you might live; you drank their blood, so that you might live"

This spell is similar to descriptions of predatory animals who live in the Egyptian desert, 'who eat hearts and drink blood'. This also links in with the story of Sekhmet who, with her leonine head, takes on the attributes of the predator.

Evidence of these beliefs go back as far as the pyramids themselves. Inscribed in the pyramid of the Pharaoh Unas (c. 2350 BC) are texts that show the king killing, cutting up, cooking and then eating people (it specifically notes that, in accordance with solar mythology, infants are consumed in the morning, adults in the afternoon and the elderly in the evening). Whilst these texts do not specifically mention that he drinks blood, it is implied so in that he is aided by the demon god Shezmu, who is both the butcher of damned souls in the afterlife and also the master of the wine press.

Shezmu is a fascinating character. In addition for being the Head Chef of the dead king, Shezmu is also responsible for certain punishments for those who do not live their lives in accordance with Egyptian morality. His job is to place bodies in his wine press in order to squeeze their blood from them, in which he then forces them to swim. Shezmu has sometimes been depicted with a leonine head, again emphasising the attributes of the predator that link in with the popular story of Sekhmet.

In all these instances, blood represents two things - life and power. The actions of the Egyptian 'vampires' were a form of dominance over others. To consume the blood of another was to increase your own power whilst at the same time robbing them of theirs. Egyptian vampires did not battle with their curse in an attempt to regain their soul. They did not seduce their prey in order to feed. They most certainly did not sparkle. If Ancient Egypt is anything to go by, vampires are meant to be predators, pure and simple.

Jamie Gibbs is a writer and Egyptologist, and has written two papers on the power of blood in Ancient Egypt: 'Wading Through Crimson Waters' and 'The Scarlet Essence'. He is also working on a fantasy novel that combines elements of vampire mythology throughout history. Visit him on his blog, Mithril Wisdom where he talks about fantasy in literature and the media, as well as writing in the genre.

The Red and White Springs of Glastonbury

Today we have an interesting guest post by Theresa Crater, who writes urban fantasy and mysteries, and teaches writing, British literature, and meditation.

My Power Places series starts in Egypt with Under the Stone Paw. Egypt is filled with mythological sites—as is Glastonbury, the location of the second book in the series, Beneath the Hallowed Hill. The Tor and the twin springs form the center of much of the mythology of ancient Avalon.

Red Spring, or Blood Spring as it is sometimes called, is now the centerpiece of Chalice Well Gardens, a beautiful, peaceful site well worth several visits. No one is certain where the water rises from—perhaps from the Mendip Hills or beyond, or it could be from deep within the earth.

Whatever its source, Red Spring carries a lot of iron, creating the red color. Most followers of the Old Tradition see Red Spring as the blood of the Mother Earth, giving to us healing and vision. Indeed, next to the well shaft is a polygonal chamber which many think was used by the Druids for initiation rituals.

Christians have claimed the well began to run when Joseph of Arimathea buried the Holy Grail below Chalice Hill. The spring to them is the blood of Christ. Today people come to this well to meditate, pray, and ask for guidance and healing. Many hang prayer ties in the trees surrounding the well, so many that the Chalice Well keepers are hard pressed to keep up with them. They also have in their possession a blue cup that many claim is the grail itself.

White Spring is the sister of Red Spring, just across a stone wall and Well House Lane. Now housed in a stone building that I’ve been told used to be a restaurant, the building was built by the Victorians to provide clean water during a cholera outbreak. The public protested the destruction of the natural wells and lime encrusted areas the natural flow of White Spring had created. For a time, White Spring was almost unnoticed compared to her more famous sister, but now thanks to Glastonbury residents, it has been refurbished and made into a temple. White Spring belongs to Brigid, the Celtic fire goddess who is guardian of sacred springs. Later, she became a Christian saint.

The water of White Spring is filled with calcium from the abundant limestone in the area. It flows from what were caves and tunnels deep in the Tor. The water is clear and tastes wonderful. It is said to bring healing and all the powers of Brigid—poetic eloquence, wisdom, smithery skills, and healing abilities. In Beneath the Hallowed Hill, several characters follow the tunnels into deep, magical caverns beneath the Tor—and even into the land of the Fae where they encounter Gwyn ap Nudd, King of the Faeries.

Guest post: Marian Allen on landscape in Eel's Reverence

The Eel is a place. The reverence is … complicated.


When elderly priest of Micah, “Aunt” Libby, goes on a Final Wandering, she’s accosted and then befriended by an amphibious mugger. The area known as The Eel is infested with worse than minor criminals–it’s under the thumbs of a coalition of greedy, brutal priests. Aunt Libby is a frail barrier to stand between peace and violence, and the worst violence may not come from her enemies…but from her friends.

Aunt Libby is run out of town by the coalition, then brought back by true believers. When her presence is discovered, she becomes a pawn in game of politics, power and prejudice, with her friends held for ransom and her life as their price.

A fantasy with no sorcery or warriors, EEL’S REVERENCE explores the kinds of choices ordinary people have faced through all time and in all places, and shows the contrariness and heroism with which they’ve dealt with the consequences of those choices.


EEL'S REVERENCE began with a couple of scenes of a merman in a desert town. A merman and his human female semi-friendly acquaintance. A merman who got himself into trouble a lot. Did he meet this semi-friend in the desert, in the town, or before?

It also began with a scene-snapshot of a priest being cornered by a pack of wolves. Were the wolves good and the priest bad, or were the wolves bad and the priest good, or were they all one or all the other?

When the book began to coalesce around these two bits, The Eel was formed. I wanted to begin with the priest meeting the merman--or, as these androgynous creatures are called in my book, mermayd--on the beach, within sight of the coastal town where most of the action takes place.

So I needed a coast long enough to include more than one town, narrow enough to make the bordering forest and the forest’s bordering desert quickly reachable. Long and narrow and irregular, as most coastlines are. Like an eel. And the mermayds have long, serpentine lower bodies to support their upper bodies out of the water. Long and narrow. Like an eel.

My husband had bought several volumes of McGraw-Hill’s Our Living World of Nature. I spent hours pouring over THE LIFE OF THE FOREST, THE LIFE OF THE DESERT and THE LIFE OF THE OCEAN. I also read up on life in early cities and pre-industrial rural homesteads, locations where semi-precious stones are found, and natural dyes.

I didn’t dump everything I learned into the text, but it all informs what can happen in the various settings, keeps me from going all anachronistic, and gives readers the occasional detail to bring the scene to life. For instance, in the desert, Aunt Libby tells Loach how to find water. It becomes more than just a Boy Scout lesson when he immediately turns to Muriel and announces his new knowledge as if she hadn’t just heard it from Aunt Libby.

When Muriel manufactures a “relic” to sell to a desert temple, she makes one that would be especially precious in a desert community: one including a damp piece of cloth.

In a farm cleared from the forest, a family hides Aunt Libby from Uncle Phineas’ wolves with the help of herbs and home-brewed beer.

The coast is where the mermayds and the humans can choose to clash or come together, which is one of the tension clusters in the book.

I indicate the pride or humility of the priests by how expensive their robes are, and by what (if any) semi-precious stones they use for adornment or temple enrichment. My reader may not know the difference between using pearls or using opals, but I know. It makes a difference to me, and I think it makes a difference in how I write about the characters and their relative locations.

Marian Allen writes science fiction, fantasy, mystery, humor, horror, mainstream, and anything else she can wrestle into fixed form.

Allen has had stories in on-line and print publications, on coffee cans and the wall of an Indian restaurant in Louisville, Kentucky. On Tuesdays, she posts on the group blog Fatal Foodies. She has three novels–EEL’S REVERENCE now, SIDESHOW IN THE CENTER RING and FORCE OF HABIT coming in 2011–available through Echelon Press in various electronic formats.

Allen is a member of the Green River Writers and the Southern Indiana Writers Group, and is a regular contributor to SIW’s annual anthology.