
Hosted by Heather Teysko · EN

What did it actually take to keep Tudor England clean? Before dawn, before the court woke up, before Henry VIII put on his famous doublet, someone was already up to her elbows in lye, urine, and other people's laundry. That someone was the Tudor laundress, and her story is one I have been wanting to tell for a long time. In this episode we follow three very different women doing the same essential work: the royal laundress at Hampton Court, who washed the king's most intimate linen and had to pretend she knew absolutely nothing about what those sheets revealed; the household laundress in a noble family, including the remarkable story of Bess Holland, who went from washer in the nursery to mistress of the Duke of Norfolk; and the independent washerwoman working on her own, building a business in a world that viewed her very existence with suspicion. Plus: the Tudor hygiene experiment that will completely change how you think about cleanliness, the Flemish refugee who arrived in London and built an empire out of a bucket of starch, and why the most fashionable accessory in Elizabethan England was basically a laundress's worst nightmare. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Everything we think we know about women and power in the medieval world is missing a few key details. Like the fact that there were exactly two female sheriffs in medieval England, and that their lives were directly tangled together in the most dramatic way possible. Nicholaa de la Haye held Lincoln Castle through multiple sieges, was appointed Sheriff of Lincolnshire by King John in one of his final acts, and helped turn the tide of a French invasion in 1217, all while in her sixties. A French chronicler called her "a very cunning, bad-hearted and vigorous old woman." She won anyway. Ela of Salisbury inherited one of the greatest titles in England at age nine, used a clause from Magna Carta to refuse remarriage, paid the king to serve as Sheriff of Wiltshire, showed up at the exchequer in person to do the job, and eventually founded Lacock Abbey before becoming its Abbess. Oh, and their husbands knew each other. Ela's husband is literally the man who tried to steal Nicholaa's castle. The history of women doing so-called men's work is not a modern story. It's just a story we haven't been told loudly enough. Katherine Fenkyll episode I linked to at the end: https://youtu.be/QggqaYpPbe4 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

What if Thomas More had just signed the Oath of Supremacy? He could have. Plenty of people did. Cranmer signed it. Cromwell signed it. So why didn't More, and what would have changed if he had? In this week's What If Thought Experiment, we're looking at one of the Tudor period's most interesting counterfactuals. Henry VIII didn't need More's signature legally, he wanted it because More was the gold standard of European humanist credibility. Getting More to sign meant something. And More refused to give him that. We talk about what a living More might have meant for the trajectory of the English Reformation, whether Mary I's reign might have looked different without the brutal martyrdoms of the 1530s setting the tone, and the woman at the center of it all: Margaret Roper, who bribed a guard, lied to the King's Council, and was buried holding her father's pickled head nine years later. I have complicated feelings about Thomas More. Come have them with me. 🔗 Links mentioned:My Katherine of Aragon video, where I talk about similar frustrations: https://youtu.be/WDF3Cs3P3IY More What If Thought Experiments: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLyxR5N2MPwbxZEmGg22jn-da5cpCIJ2Qt Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Before it was an insult, "spinster" was a job title. It meant a woman who spins thread. It appeared in tax rolls, court records, and legal documents. It was an occupation. And then the economy collapsed, the guilds shut women out, and the word became something else entirely. In this episode we're looking at the women who quite literally kept Tudor England running -- the spinners, weavers, and dyers whose labor underpinned the most important industry in the country. We're talking about the guild system that excluded them from legal protections while depending entirely on their work, the enclosure crisis that pulled the floor out from under their livelihoods, and the Statute of Artificers that gave magistrates the power to imprison women who weren't working hard enough. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

You think office politics are bad? Imagine your entire career depending on whether the queen liked how you handed her a towel.Lady in waiting sounds like a decorative job. It wasn't. The women of the Tudor privy chamber controlled physical access to the most powerful person in England, and in Tudor political life, controlling the door meant controlling everything. A quiet word at the right moment, a letter passed along or strategically delayed, an introduction made or withheld. These women were intelligence assets, political operators, and the invisible machinery behind some of the biggest decisions of the era. Today we're going inside the system: the org chart nobody wrote down but everyone understood, the dramatic power shift that happened when the privy chamber went from Henry VIII's court to the queens regnant, and what happened to the women who got it spectacularly wrong. Including Lady Katherine Grey, who secretly married a man with no royal permission and triggered a political crisis that landed multiple people in the Tower. And Lettice Knollys, who married Elizabeth I's favorite and was reportedly told there was but one sun in the sky and one queen in England. And then there's Blanche Parry, who had been with Elizabeth since she rocked her cradle, and who figured out the only blueprint that actually worked: be so indispensable that removing you was unthinkable.If you want to go deeper, pick up Nicola Clark's The Waiting Game, which is linked below. It's fantastic. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The moment a Tudor woman got married, she legally ceased to exist. No property, no contracts, no rights - her entire legal identity absorbed into her husband's. But the moment he died? She got it all back. And some of these women knew exactly what that meant. In this episode we're looking at three Tudor women who used widowhood as a strategy... whether they meant to or not. Bess of Hardwick turned four marriages into one of the greatest fortunes in England. Catherine Willoughby turned down a king to marry her servant. And Mary Howard just looked at every remarriage proposal and said no, flatly, repeatedly, forever. Lady in Waiting episode I referenced: https://youtu.be/W8BgrU76hwc Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In early June in Tudor England, one woman was already up before sunrise. She had roughly four months to produce everything her household needed to survive the next twelve months. Medicine. Preserves. Cosmetics. Cleaning products. The entire household pharmacy. All of it, from scratch, while the plants were available. She had no name in the history books. But without her, the household didn't make it through winter. We follow a Tudor stillroom mistress through a day at the start of summer, from the early morning herb harvest before the dew burns off, through the hours of distilling rose water and filling the medicine chest, all the way to the evening ledger by candlelight. Along the way we get into the dissolution of the monasteries and why it made her job dramatically higher stakes, the cosmetics she was producing that were slowly poisoning the people she was trying to care for. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

In 1293, King Edward I finally got what he wanted: the Isle of Wight. He'd been trying to take it for decades. He had to wait until its owner, Isabella de Fortibus, was on her deathbed to get it. And even then, she made him pay for it. Isabella de Fortibus was a 13th century countess who became one of the wealthiest people in England after a series of family tragedies left her controlling Devon, the Aumale estates in Yorkshire, and the strategically crucial Isle of Wight. Two kings, Henry III and Edward I, spent years trying to force her to remarry and hand over her lands. She said no. Repeatedly. Legally. One suitor actually tried to abduct her, and she bribed a prior and fled to Wales to escape him. She also owned her own personal copy of the statutes of the realm. In the 13th century. A laywoman. And she used it to win dozens of legal battles protecting what was hers. I found Isabella in Medieval Horizons by Ian Mortimer -highly recommend it if you love this kind of deep dive into the medieval world. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

It's Memorial Day, and I've been thinking about patriotism -- where it comes from, why people feel it so strongly, and whether Tudor people felt anything like it at all. The answer is more interesting than I expected. In 1485, when Henry VII takes the throne after the Battle of Bosworth Field, England is basically a collection of feudal relationships. Loyalty runs to your lord, your family, your region -- not to some abstract idea of "England." There's no standing army, no national church, no real sense of a shared national identity. And then the Reformation happens. And everything changes. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

London, summer 1563. The city sounds wrong. The market stalls have gaps. And then you notice the door across the street — a blue cross painted on it, and a man standing outside who wasn't there yesterday. The plague is back. Today we're going street level into the Tudor plague years. What it actually felt like to live in London when the epidemics hit, what ordinary people did to survive, and three specific summers — 1563, 1593, and 1603 — that each killed somewhere between one in eight and one in three Londoners. We also get into what the Tudor government actually did about it (more sophisticated than you'd think), the plague doctors and their beaked masks, the quacks selling dried toads and unicorn horn, and the parish searchers — older women whose job was to examine bodies and determine cause of death, and who are almost entirely invisible in the historical record. Oh, and Elizabeth I had a gallows erected at Windsor to hang anyone who followed her from London. Very her. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices