Backing the Wrong Horse?

In this month's guest spot I'm delighted to welcome Christine Merrill author of the second and final books in the Regency Silk and Scandal continuity. This month Taken by the Wicked Rake concludes the eight-book series and reveals the truth about the mysteries that have threaded through the other seven books. The villain gets his just desserts and Verity Carlow, younger sister of my two heroes, finds her true love.

Christine had to do a considerable amount of research into Romany life and lore for this book, right down to the horses used. But heroes are allowed to be slightly different - aren't they? Over to Christine -

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When we continuistas had to choose a horse for my Gypsy hero, Stephano Beshaley, I remember there was some talk amongst us about the best type. I can’t remember who actually made the decision. Possibly me. I know I was all for it when he got the heroic standard, big, black horse.
I really don’t know much about horses, despite the fact that I live in the country. They walk by the house sometimes. They may be invited into the yard to eat apples. We have boarded other people’s horses, since we have an empty pasture. I have managed to get through the experience without actually learning anything, other than that I like to look out the window at horses. They are pretty from a distance. They are even prettier if they have owners coming daily to feed, water and brush them.

My husband had horses as a teen, and never wants to own another one. He sees them as things that require continual maintenance, and that take a deep breath and blow out their guts when it is time to be ridden, making it impossible to get the saddle properly cinched. And then they laugh when the saddle slips and the rider falls off. And then they run away. And you have to chase them…

Though we started dating in high school, I never got to meet his horses. When I learned they existed, I behaved like a typical teenage girl, and asked if we could go riding.
He said, “No. They don’t like to be ridden.” Apparently, the Merrill horses were only decorative.
It has been thirty years. He bears a grudge. No horses for us.

But I am writing historicals. And all of my heroes should have Andalusians. As stated, I know nothing at all about horses. But my first response, on seeing an Andalusian, was “Oh, God, I want a horse!” They are big and glossy, with flowing hair like an equine Fabio, and extremely proud, arched necks.
I think I can justify them as available and appropriate to the period. They are a centuries old breed from the Iberian Peninsula, and so would be appropriate for any returning war heroes. Regency men had a lot of time on their hands, and a good knowledge of horse flesh. Since Stephano is part English, a world traveler, and definitely of a theatrical nature, I think he would want a showy, good looking, slightly exotic horse.
It would be like having a Ferrari with legs.

But he is also a Gypsy. There would have been a much better horse, considering the fact that I gave Stephano a vardo wagon. I never even considered the more appropriate Gypsy Cob. This is a breed of uncertain bloodlines, but firmly based in the UK, and bred by the Romany. They are piebald or tobiano, with shaggy, feathered legs and are big boned and ideal for pulling wagons. They will graze on what they can find. And apparently, these horses are also sweet tempered, since the Romany sold any horses that weren’t, and bred only the nice ones.
These horses are also called Gypsy vanners. Probably because they pull vans and don’t spook or get tired. If an Andalusian is a Ferrari, a Cob is definitely a station wagon.

There is no alpha hero in the history of romance that would choose a station wagon over a sports car. I rest my case, with apologies to real Gypsy Horses everywhere.

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I found this lovely print by Henry Alken above that is probably the sort of Ferrari horse than Stephano would have liked, although I am sure he would not have had the tail docked.

Louise Allen

A Tribute to Female healers

I'm delighted to welcome Gayle Wilson, another of the Regency Silk & Scandal authors, to Historical Romance UK.
Gayle's book, Claiming the Forbidden Bride is the fourth in the series and tells the story of returning soldier Rhys Morgan and his encounter with Romany beauty Nadya Argentari, her tribe's healer. I was fascinated by the Romany lore Gayle had researched for the book and here is her insight into the world of a female healer.


From prehistoric times man has used substances derived from plants to treat or prevent disease. It is possible that the impetus to do so originally came from watching animals, some of whom seem to know instinctively which flora should be eaten in order to alleviate their ailments. The plants they choose at such times are invariably rich in phytochemicals, now recognized to possess antibacterial, antiviral and antifungal properties.

Ancient civilizations including those of Egypt, China, and India were well aware of the healing properties of plants and other natural substances such as honey and garlic and used them to treat illnesses and to heal wounds. This valuable knowledge was passed down in both the writings of physicians like Hippocrates as well as in the oral traditions of so-called natural healers.

Although female healers were frequently targeted by the Inquisition as practicing witchcraft, much of their wisdom survived into the modern era. Perhaps the best known examples of plants used by these healers as well as by modern, conventional medicine are foxglove, from which the heart regulator digitalis is derived; willow bark, the original source of the analgesic, fever-reducing, and anti-inflammatory miracle drug aspirin; and the opium poppy, which produces both morphine and codeine.

In Claiming the Forbidden Bride, the Romany heroine Nadya Argentari was trained in such medicinals by her grandmother, and her knowledge of herbal remedies plays a major role in the story. Rhys Morgan, the hero, suffers a recurrence of the malaria he contracted during his military service on the Iberian Peninsula. Nadya successfully treats him with a tea made from bark and castigates the English medical community of the time for persisting in the use of other less effective treatments—such as bleeding, purging or blistering—for the disease.

The fact that the bark of the South American cinchona tree, which contains alkaloid quinine, has the ability to cure malaria was well known in much of the world by the early 19th century, but the antimalarial was not widely used in England. The bark does not cure fevers other than malaria, so doctors dismissed its healing properties altogether. Also, the fact that the Catholic Church, and particularly the Jesuits, touted the bark’s effectiveness worked against its acceptance in Protestant England, as did the teachings of the Greek physician Galen, then considered the ultimate source of medical knowledge by many European doctors.

The nomadic Rom would almost certainly have encountered cinchona bark, which had been imported into Europe as early as the 17th century. Nadya’s grandmother, who was the drabarni or wise woman before her, would undoubtedly have been familiar with the effectiveness of the so-called Peruvian bark against malaria and would surely have passed that knowledge down to her granddaughter.

By featuring these two fictional healers in my novel, I hope in some small way to have paid homage to the tradition of natural medicines and to the women who helped preserve the herbal knowledge of the ancients, even in the face of persecution and scorn from their “educated” peers. We all owe them a great debt.

Thak you for the insight, Gayle! The illustration is by WH Pyne and shows a group of early 19thc Romanies by their camp fire.

Louise Allen