We live quite close to Henley-on-Thames in Oxfordshire (ok, a 30 minute train ride away) and although I've visited the museum when the children were little, we've never actually done the proper visit around the town. 

Henley is right on the riverside, with the Thames lapping under its bridges and against riverboat moorings. When we arrived, in February 2026, it was even more so, after a season of heavy rain causing the river to swell and trickle under the benches of The Angel pub and restaurant nearby. We had a walk around the shops, dropped off our bags at our hotel and then decided to pop out for some lunch. 

The Bull Inn by N Chadwick, CC BY-SA 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

We really loved the time we spent at The Bull, the food was honestly great and the staff were friendly and happy to recommend dishes we'd like, from the menu. It's just a short stroll from the river from New Street and then turn left into Bell Street. Walking this way, you really get a sense of Henley's historic past, via fifteenth century cottages Anne Boleyn's Cottage and Tudor Cottage and the other historic structures you pass as you go. Another historic pub I'd absolutely recommend. Thank you to The Bull on Bell Street for looking after us so nicely. 

Liked this? You might also like: The Stonor Family of Henley on Thames During the Wars of the Roses, The 1474 Inventory of Stonor Park and 10 Things to Know About Stratford on Avon Before You Visit.

Interested in the Wars of the Roses? My first book explores the roles of women from all sectors of fifteenth century society and the impact they had on the Wars of the Roses conflict. Many of the Stonor family from Henley on Thames are discussed, and we peer around various women's homes and surroundings through evidence in their inventories and wills. Order your copy here. 

The Bull on Bell Street was standing during an important period in the development of England's science, culture and the arts. Find out more in my book Power Couples of the Renaissance. It features relationship dynamics that went against accepted norms of the period and power-hungry couples who ruled, fought and spread the patronage of art, science and culture across the globe during one of the most tumultuous periods of history. Find it on the Pen and Sword Books website. 

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When you think of Scottish 'monsters' you probably think of Nessie, the famous aquatic beast that's supposed to dwell in the depths of Loch Ness, right? But a closer look at the country's history shows that tales of unusual animals and giant fish are far more widespread than you'd think.

As early as 1500, a man called Hutcheon Frizell in Glenconie [Glencoe?] shot at a creature while out hunting. He was on high land when he heard an unusual call, and turning, released an arrow from his bow into the animal that had made it. It squirmed with the pain, and Frizell noticed it on the ground - it had no feet but two fins on either side of its body as it lay among the heather. It also had a tail and 'a terrible head', and his hunting dogs refused to go near it. He was convinced that he had caught a dragon. Frizell's description does bring to mind the characteristics of something the shape of a dolphin, which is known to venture into local shores but there is no explanation as to why it was on high ground or considered unusual enough to have been thought of at the time as a dragon.

Just ten years later, another creature was seen in a loch in Argyll. This time, a knight named Duncan Campbell claimed to have witnessed in 1510 a ‘terrible beast... of the bigness of a greyhound, and footed like a gander. Issuing out of the water early in the morning about midsummer,’ he ‘did very easily and without any force or straining of himself, overthrow huge oaks with his tail, and therewith killed outright three men that hunted him with three strokes of his said tail, the rest of them saving themselves in trees thereabouts, whilst the aforesaid monster returned to the water. Those that are given to the observation of rare and uncouth sights, believe that this beast is never seen but against some great trouble and mischief to come upon the realm of Scotland.’ The identity of the animal is certainly a mystery even today.

Residents living close to Loch Fyne in 1570 also believed the sighting of a 'monster' was an omen of future worrying events. They swore they'd seen a 'monstrous fish' that could stand above the water 'as high as the mast of a ship'. The creature was reported to have had two crowns, one large and one small, on its head. In an age where almost anything unusual was taken as a sign of prophecy, locals insisted that its appearance heralded 'sudden alteration within this realm'. The period was certainly turbulent, with changes of government, the fall of Mary Queen of Scots and religious change in the Scottish kingdom and residents must have feared for what the future might bring.

Saunders, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Ralph Holinshed, the Tudor chronicler, noted in 1577 in the Firth of Forth ‘sundry fishes of a monstrous shape, with cowls hanging over their heads like unto monks, and in the rest resembling the body of man. They show themselves above the water to the navel, howbeit they never appear but against some great pestilence of men or murrain of cattle; wherefore their only sight doth breed great terror to the Scottish nation, who are very great observers of uncouth signs and tokens.’

Another unusual animal was noted in 1635, during the reign of Charles I, in the River Don of Aberdeenshire. It actually seems very similar by its description to that seen by residents in 1577 at the Firth of Forth. 'There was seen in the water of Don a monster-like beast, having the head like to one great mastiff dog or swine, and hands, arms, and paps like to a man. The paps seemed to be white. It had hair on the head, and the hinder parts, seen sometimes above the water, seemed clubbish, short-legged, and short-footed, with one tail. This monster was seen swimming bodily above the water about ten hours in the morning, and continued all day visible, swimming above and below the bridge without any fear. The townspeople came out in great multitudes to see this monster. Some threw stones; some shot guns and pistols; and the salmon-fishers rowed cobles with nets to catch it, but all in vain. It never shrinked nor feared, but would duck under the water, snorting and bullering, terrible to the hearers and beholders. It remained two days, and was seen no more.’ Robert Chambers, writing of events in Scotland's history, offered the explanation that locals here had seen a lost manatee. 'The manatees haunt the mouths of rivers in the hottest parts of the Atlantic Ocean, and it is just possible that a stray individual may have found its way to the coast of Scotland, more especially as it was the summer season', he wrote in 1885. Manatees certainly have facial features that resemble a mastiff dog or even a pig, and as it moved quickly through the water, its fins might have been interpreted as arms from the distance to the shore. It may also have been a manatee that locals also saw in 1577, based on Holinshed's similar account. 

Enjoyed this? You might also like Urquhart Castle in Scotland, The Coronation of Anne of Denmark Queen of Scotland and Elspeth M'Ewan, the 'witch' of Balmaclellan.

Source: Domestic Annals of Scotland, Robert Chambers. 1885.

My friend and I took a drive out to Yattendon, mostly for the breakfast at the local cafe called The Pantry in the village, but also to see if we could visit the church for a little historic sightseeing. There's a little car parking area opposite the pub, and from there you can see what looks like a market cross. Standing at The Pantry facing the pub, you turn right, and in a couple of minutes you arrive at the beautiful church of St Peter and St Paul. 

Yattendon was a busy place back in the medieval period. It was among the lands held by the crown in Saxon times, and was owned by King Alfred's wife Ealhswith. After the Norman invasion it was mentioned in Domesday Book in 1086, and William the Conqueror granted it to the de la Beche family of nearby Aldworth. Yattendon was granted its own market in 1258, later confirmed to John de la Beche in 1319. Eventually, the manor passed into the hands of the Norreys family, and Sir John Norreys built a Manor House in the fifteenth century, along with much of the medieval foundations of the church that survives today in around 1450.

The medieval church, like so many of Berkshire's local churches, was restored in the nineteenth century. Yattendon was rebuilt in 1858, and Alfred Waterhouse, the architect responsible for many of these churches, is buried inside. A monument opposite the door remembers him as a man of the parish. Waterhouse is believed to have conducted Victorian additions to the building here in 1881-1896. The medieval walls were built in flint stone, although the tower was restored and rebuilt over the centuries. 

Yattendon Church, Jo Romero

Quite often in these 'restored' churches of the Victorian era you still see medieval brasses, effigies and other visible traces of the older church. Here, most of the inside looks nineteenth century or later. The font, usually pretty ancient, dates to the 1800s or later, and there are no medieval wall paintings or other visible monuments. Ashmole however, in his History and Antiquities of Berkshire, mentions seeing a 'kneeling figure of a knight, his two wives, sons and daughters, and part of an inscription'. Sadly, I could find no trace of it inside. Ashmole recorded some of the inscription of the monument, revealing that it belonged to John Norreys, the founder of the medieval church. 

There's a beautiful timber ceiling inside, and some stained glass windows. The door of the church looks pretty ancient, older even than the 1800s to me, and has an interesting decorative knocker with series of lines etched into it. A visitor to the church in 1915 made a note of the bells in the tower, which dated to 1627, 1653, 1656, 1660 and 1756. An earlier bell was believed to have been added in the reign of Henry VI, dating it to John Norreys' work on the church in 1450. The bell was engraved with Henry's symbol of a leopard, and fleur de lys patterns. 

There are various monuments to the Norreys and Bertie families who have lived in the village for centuries, and on the internal wall near the bell tower are monuments with the dates 1711 and 1732. Our visitor of 1911 also noted a south doorway which is part of the pre-existing medieval church. They state: 

'The south doorway within a porch has been almost entirely renewed. It is square-headed. The door is old with the original lock, and a very good iron escutcheon above. The tower was re-built in 1896, but the west doorway was preserved. It is a good specimen of 15th century work with a label terminating in circles enclosing roses.'

I didn't find any medieval brasses or monuments to go home and research for my Forgotten History series on Substack, but Yattendon church is really beautiful and worth a visit. There's an old and gnarly yew tree in the churchyard, an organ inside, and the church is really well kept. There are some hints of the previous medieval church, but the overall look on the inside is Victorian. Definitely worth a visit though, and I can recommend The Pantry as a lovely place to stop for a bite, too.

Liked this? You might also like Tudor Power Couple: Elizabeth and George Forster, Aldermaston and Julius Palmer, Tudor Martyr of Newbury. 

Source: Visit in February 2026, and Ditchfield, Rev. P. H. The Berks, Bucks and Oxon Archaeological Journal, 1915. Published by Slaughter, London.

We don’t often think of the Mantuan Marchioness Isabella d’Este when we talk about British history. She lived in an independent Italian state that was more than 600 miles from London and ruled, with her husband, over its religious, political and domestic affairs. However, the culture-loving Renaissance ruler had a number of links with England, then governed by the Tudor monarchs. 

Isabella d’Este was born in 1474 and died in 1539, and so her life spanned the English rule of the Yorkist kings Edward IV, Edward V and Richard III, and the early Tudors, Henry VII and his son Henry VIII. Much of her role as Marchioness of Mantua was taken up with forging and maintaining alliances. Mantua was a small Italian state ruled by generations of the Gonzaga family, the latest Marquis, Francesco, Isabella’s husband. Their marriage had been arranged as a diplomatic match to strengthen the position of the smaller independent states of Gonzaga’s Mantua and Isabella’s Ferrara against growing powers from within Italy. Francesco was a hot-headed soldier who fought on behalf of both French and Papal forces. While he was away at war, Isabella played the part of negotiator and ambassador, smooth-talking foreign diplomats at weddings and positioning Mantua as a place of military and political strength. This activity was crucial, with Italy then at war with its own nations, and also with France. In addition, the Pope’s son, Caesar Borgia Duke Valentino, was pursuing his own bid for power by invading the homes of many of Isabella’s family and friends across the Italian states and seizing their homes and wealth. It may have been Isabella’s careful management of alliances, along with her own friendly correspondence with the tempestuous duke, that left Mantua untouched. 

Isabella d'Este, Metropolitan Museum, New York, Public Domain

In 1495, Isabella and Francesco found themselves allied with Henry VII’s England. On 14 March of that year, a new League was announced between the Pope, King of the Romans, Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain and the rulers of Venice and Milan. Henry VII was also a member of this League, demonstrating England’s new and increased power on the European stage. Henry had come to power in 1485 following a period of civil war in the country and Ferdinand and Isabella had worried that he would be abruptly removed. At the beginning of their negotiations in the 1490s, England was considered fragile, but by 1495 it was placed alongside these important European rulers to combat the power of the French in Italy. Ferdinand also had an interest in these Italian affairs in his capacity as King of Naples. Francesco Gonzaga was placed in charge of the League’s army of 25,000 men, deployed against the French armies. 

Relations between England and Mantua were settled, but there is evidence of at least one moment of antagonism caused indirectly between the countries. Isabella’s twentieth-century biographer Julia Cartwright wrote that in 1506, a close former courtier of Francesco’s, Baldassarre Castiglioni, was summoned to England to collect the Order of the Garter for his new master the Duke of Urbino. Angry at losing him from the court, Francesco refused Castiglioni entry into Mantua to say goodbye before leaving, although he did return in 1507 and maintained warm relationship with the couple, especially the ever-diplomatic and charming Isabella. 

In 1511, Isabella hosted political talks at the Ducal Palace in Mantua, an event attended by ambassadors from England, France, Spain, and Germany. The aim was to discuss how a peace in Italy could be achieved. Isabella’s diplomacy was often carried out at social occasions, and at a later meeting hosted by her in 1512, she put on a range of entertainments and diversions for the ambassadors. It is likely then that the English were treated just as lavishly by the Marchioness in 1511. By now, the country had a new ruler: Henry VII’s son, Henry VIII, who was now married to Katherine of Aragon and feeling his own way through European influences affecting his government.

Isabella was present with English ambassadors again in 1526. Catherine Lucy Fletcher discussed the nature of Renaissance diplomacy in her thesis titled Renaissance Diplomacy in Practice: The Case of Gregario Casali, England’s Ambassador to the Papal Court, 1525-33. She pointed out one dinner, held at Cardinal Cesarino’s home in Rome in January 1526. Isabella was joined by Cardinal Ridolfi, the Duke of Sessa (the Imperial Ambassador), and ‘the ambassadors of England, Ferrara and Mantua’. The sharp-eyed and diplomatically agile Isabella would have subtly promoted her state as one of strength, and no doubt Henry VIII, who loved expressions of Italian culture, would have been keen to learn more about her and her nation from his ambassadors once they returned to court. Isabella was now representing Mantua as a widow, Francesco having died in 1519.

Henry and Isabella were certainly kept up to date with one another by mutual friends and officials. The Papal nuncio Francesco Chiericati was a close friend of hers, and wrote to Isabella during his travels to other nations as he carried out his role. Visiting England towards the end of 1515, he wrote to tell her about Henry VIII’s court in London, and spent Palm Sunday personally with the king. Henry too, admired the Gonzagas of Mantua, telling Chiericati that he had horses sent by Francesco in his royal stables and considered them equal to no other in quality. The marquis had also recommended one of his own musicians to Henry, who was then residing at court and entertaining the king and queen, and Henry offered to receive one of Isabella’s sons there, too. Chiericato wrote to Isabella of the king’s love of music, fashion and ceremony, providing details of the jewels and fabrics worn by the king and his singing and dancing. No doubt the fashionable Isabella read these letters with great interest, and the two rulers certainly had a number of things in common. Isabella was also known to be a keen and gifted musician and owned a variety of instruments in her ‘grotta’, a small room in the palace dedicated to the enjoyment of artwork, sculpture and music.  ‘Most illustrious madama’, wrote Chiericati, ‘here in England we find all the wealth and delights in the world. Those who call the English barbarians are themselves barbarians! Here we see magnificent costumes, rare virtues, and the finest courtesy. And, best of all, here we have this invincible King, who is endowed with so many excellent virtues that he seems to me to surpass all others who wear a crown in these times. Blessed and happy is the country which is ruled by so worthy and excellent a prince! I would rather live under his mild and gentle sway than enjoy the greatest freedom under any other form of government’. In 1528, Isabella was on a visit to her home state of Ferrara when she learned from another friend that Cardinal Campeggio had arrived in England to examine the marriage between Henry and his wife, Katherine of Aragon, as the king took the first steps in seeking an annulment. 

But Isabella d’Este’s mark on England goes further than chatting to ambassadors and exchanging pleasantries with Henry VIII. She is best known for collecting works of art from artists such as Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo and Raphael, as well as a number of original ancient sculptures being then unearthed in Rome. She personally commissioned work from the Renaissance Master Titian, who also painted the well-known portrait of Philip II of Spain, the husband of Mary I. She also possessed works by Andrea Mantegna, who was the Gonzagas’ favourite painter and responsible for a number of works painted on the palace walls and ceilings. On her death in February 1539, this impressive collection was broken up and some of them were brought to England. In 1632 Charles I purchased one of her statues of a cupid sculpted by Michelangelo, while two paintings, one of the Holy Family and another of St William in armour were taken to Hampton Court. Another portrait of Isabella, painted from life by Titian, was valued at £50 and also bought by Charles I in the seventeenth century.

Isabella d’Este’s relationship with England underlines the nature of Renaissance European politics, showing that each nation was in fact a jigsaw piece that slotted into place rather than a state ruled in isolation. She was interested in English culture and the expression of music, art and fashion at the Tudor court, and embarked on partnerships with English ambassadors, hosting Tudor dignitaries at her Mantuan home. Isabella and Henry VIII never met, but they had many things in common, and seemed to enjoy a mutual appreciation for one another from afar. Isabella was a remarkable woman who encouraged the progression of Renaissance culture and the arts, along with the roles of women as European leaders. She also understood that fighting was not the only way to win a battle in Renaissance Europe, and relationships between foreign states could also be forged with charm and a liberal twinkling of music and wine.

Find out more about Isabella d'Este and Francesco Gonzaga - in my book Power Couples of the Renaissance. It features relationship dynamics that went against accepted norms of the period and power-hungry couples who ruled, fought and spread the patronage of art, science and culture across the globe during one of the most tumultuous periods of history. Find it on the Pen and Sword Books website. 

Sources:

https://pure.royalholloway.ac.uk/ws/portalfiles/portal/42803068/Fletcher_Renaissance_Diplomacy.pdf

Julia Cartwright, Isabella d’Este, Marchioness of Mantua 1474-1539 Volumes 1 & 2, Dutton, New York. 1905.

In the hot summer of 1582 in the northern Italian state of Mantua, a Scotsman was brutally murdered. It shook the sleepy Renaissance riverside community deeply, especially as Crichton was popular and rumours began to spread that the ducal family had been involved in the killing. But why? 

James Crichton was born in Scotland on 19 August 1560. He later earned the nickname 'The Admirable' and in February 1582 entered the service of the famous Gonzaga family. The Gonzagas had run Mantua as its lords, dukes and marquesses for centuries. The current ruler, Guglielmo Gonzaga, was the grandson of Francesco Gonzaga and Isabella d'Este, who had dodged Italian politics there at the turn of the 1500s, commissioning and collecting art and laying the foundations of administrative and military power. Crichton was just twenty-one when he began working with the Gonzagas, and it was noted he was fluent in languages including Italian, Latin, Spanish, French, German and Hebrew. We see him today as a polymath; someone who is expert across many different disciplines and he was also very learned in philosophy, theology, astrology and mathematics. He was also a poet, dancer and a singer and, the Gonzaga's secretary noted, was handy with a sword. 

Crichton began to become well-known at the Mantuan court for his intelligence and ability to win arguments with high-status men of religion over matters of philosophy and doctrine. Soon becoming a Scottish celebrity there, Crichton was liked by the duke and attracted the praise of the court, but also the glares of others jealous of his attention and influence. Sensing some hostility, Crichton complained of ill treatment towards him by Mantuan citizens and courtiers but Gonzaga told him that as long as he had his favour, no one would attack him physically or verbally.

Bildnis des J. Crichton by unbekannter Künstler (Production) - Leipzig University Library, Germany - Public Domain.

Gonzaga had a son, Prince Vincenzo Gonzaga, who was two years younger than Crichton, and heir to the dukedom. The two men got to know one another at court and would have spoken on occasion inside the Ducal Place, as the likeness of previous rulers of the state silently observed them from their portraits in the paintwork. Cherubs too, peeked down at the ceiling Andrea Mantegna had painted a hundred years previously. 

But at just after 1am on the morning of 3 July 1582 Vincenzo stood over Crichton's dead and bloodied body holding the weapons that had killed him, his sword and buckler. The following was Vincenzo's own version of events, written on 27 July.

'One of these evenings taking fresh air about the town, about one o'clock in the night, and having with me Messer Hippolito Lanzone, a gentleman of this town, in whose humours I found much gusto, I met by chance James the Scotsman [Crichton], and thinking that it was the Count Langosco, my groom-in-waiting, whom he resembled in stature, I went to knock him in jest, but, on coming near, observed it was not he, and, therefore, putting my buckler, which I had shouldered, before my face, I passed on, leaving the Scotsman suspicious, and he, seeing Lanzone, (in like manner having his buckler before his face), follow, tried to pass him at the wall side, and, having done so, drove into his shoulders his dagger to the hilt. Whereat both did take to arms but Lanzone being mortally wounded, he could not defend himself: therefore I, hearing the uproar, seizing hold of my sword, turned towards the noise, and the Scotsman not recognising me at first night, aimed at me a great cut and a thrust, which I parried with my buckler, and myself levelling a thrust at the Scotsman - which he tried to parry with his dagger, but through being impetuous could not - he got wounded in the chest, and having recognised me, commenced begging for his life. I left him and returned to my companion. who, I found, could hardly stand upon his legs; and when I would support him be fell before me dead.'

Learning that his family were disappointed in the prince, Vincenzo insisted that 'It has truly been a case of pure misdventure'. 

Vincenzo Gonzaga, Rijksmuseum, Public Domain

Vincenzo, writing more than three weeks after the murder, said that it was a tragedy of mistaken identity and an overeager sword fight between three men in the darkness. Vincenzo was writing to soothe the anger of his father, and in his own testimony he left a man he had just stabbed in the chest, to go to his friend. Is it possible that these three high-profile men, at least two of them who were known to one another, did not recognise each other by their voices and shadows in the dark? And if it was a misunderstanding, weren't they all a bit eager to start stabbing before talking, to find out who everyone was? It sounded sketchy, and it wasn't long before Mantua's residents began to gossip over a possible premeditated murder, framed to look like an accident. 

Around a week after his explanation, Vincenzo asked his father, the duke, for permission to leave Mantua and visit Ferrara, the ancestral home of the d'Este family. Nervously, and knowing that his father was still angry over Crichton's death, Vincenzo asked whether 'I should come to kiss the hands of his highness, or whether it is better that I go straight away'. 

Another account, written in 1604 by Thomas Dempster, claimed that Vincenzo had acted deliberately, stating that the prince, 'either upon some spleen, or false suggestion, or to try the Scots' valour, met him in a place where he was won't to haunt, resolving either to kill, wound or beat him'. 

Crichton's body was buried in a modest grave in the church of San Simone, but the people of Mantua complained that it was as if he had been 'abandoned' by the Gonzagas he had previously served. His is a story not often told, but reveals the complexity of ambition and politics in Renaissance Mantua. 

Find out more about a Mantuan duo of the sixteenth century, Isabella d'Este and Francesco Gonzaga - in my book Power Couples of the Renaissance. It features relationship dynamics that went against accepted norms of the period and power-hungry couples who ruled, fought and spread the patronage of art, science and culture across the globe during one of the most tumultuous periods of history. Find it on the Pen and Sword Books website.

Source: Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, Edinburgh.Volume 43, 1909.