#findingossory

There is zero contemporary evidence, firsthand or secondhand, to suggest Edward VI and Barnaby Fitzpatrick had any sexual relationship.

None. Not hinted. Not rumored. Not even in hostile sources.

So why do people today introduce a sexual layer that never existed historically?

Well here’s the precise mechanism behind that confusion:

1. Modern audiences misread physical closeness as sexual

In Tudor childhoods, especially among boys raised together:

• sharing a bed

• bathing together

• being touched, tickled, carried, or comforted

• sleeping in the same room their whole upbringing

• being nude around each other

were normal, non-sexual parts of life.

To a modern viewer, especially someone from TikTok or fandom spaces:

“Two boys naked in a bath = sexual tension.”

But in the 1500s?

It was nursery routine supervised by attendants.

The sexual reading comes from modern norms, not Tudor ones.

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2. They assume emotional intensity = romance = sex

When Edward writes to Barnaby with warmth, or when chroniclers describe them as unusually close, modern audiences interpret this through:

• 21st-century language norms

• the “love = sex” assumption

• media that portrays deep bonds as romantic

But Tudor emotional expression used more dramatic language.

Calling someone “my beloved” or “my most dear” didn’t imply sexual desire.

Today, people flatten that nuance.

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3. People project queer readings onto all intense same-sex bonds

TikTok and fandom culture have a strong trend:

• If two men show love → they must be secretly lovers

• If two men cried for each other → must be romantic

• If two men shared a bed → must be sexual

This is part of a broader cultural movement to reclaim erased queer narratives — but it sometimes leads to:

assuming sexuality where there was none.

It’s not malicious; it’s overcorrection.

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4. They misunderstand male friendships before the 19th century

Before modern masculinity norms tightened, it was normal for men to:

• hold hands

• embrace

• express devotion

• write emotional letters

• call each other “the love of my heart”

None of that was coded sexual at the time.

But modern viewers — especially younger ones — come from a culture where:

men aren’t allowed to be affectionate with other men unless they’re lovers.

So they sexualize historical intimacy because they can’t imagine a non-sexual version of it.

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5. Lack of education on wardship and childhood norms

Most people don’t understand that Barnaby was essentially:

• Edward’s foster-brother

• raised in the royal household

• treated as a companion-in-training

Their shared childhood activities make perfect sense in the Tudor context.

But without that context?

People jump to sexual conclusions simply because the situation looks “intimate.”

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6. They are influenced by modern media tropes

The “prince and his loyal companion” dynamic is a major trope in fiction.

Fiction makes it romantic.

So modern viewers import that trope into real history:

“Beautiful prince + devoted friend = must be romance.”

But history doesn’t operate on TikTok storytelling logic.

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7. No historical rumor = no sexual relationship

If there had been sexual behavior, the Tudors would have:

• gossiped

• recorded accusations

• weaponized it politically

• used it in court intrigue

• noted “improper familiarity” in correspondence

But across:

• Edward VI’s journals

• Cecil’s papers

• ambassadorial reports

• council records

• household accounts

• Fitzpatrick family papers

• Ormond correspondence

• Elizabethan retrospectives

there is not one suggestion of sexual misconduct.

For the Tudors, even a hint would have been scandalous.

The complete absence of rumor is strong evidence they were simply boys raised together with a deep, fraternal bond.

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8. It erases Barnaby’s real marriage, his wife Joan, and their daughter Margaret

When modern audiences insist on sexualizing Barnaby and Edward’s childhood bond, it unintentionally pulls attention away from the real, documented, adult relationships in Barnaby’s life — especially:

• his wife, Joan Eustace

• their daughter, Margaret Fitzpatrick

It creates a distorted picture where Barnaby is viewed through a single speculative lens — instead of the rich, complicated reality of a man who:

✔ married

✔ had a child

✔ managed a politically significant household

✔ navigated alliances

✔ maintained loyalty to the Crown

✔ ran a lordship in one of the most turbulent regions of Ireland

By framing him as someone who must have been romantically or sexually devoted to Edward, modern reinterpretations often sideline:

• Joan’s place as his partner

• their documented domestic life

• Margaret’s existence as their daughter

• the emotional reality of his adult responsibilities

Instead of spotlighting Joan and Margaret — historical women already underrepresented in the record — the sexualized reading increases the overshadowing.

And ironically, it reinforces the very issue modern audiences claim to resist:

erasing real women from history.

Most importantly, this projection collapses Barnaby into a stereotype, rather than acknowledging him as a fully dimensional man whose loyalties, affections, and identity were broader than a single childhood friendship.

What did you want to know? He was born in the later end of the medieval era during the 16th century, 1535, in Ireland and was the son of an Irish King, his father surrendered to King Henry the eighth as a show of loyalty as Henry asserted his control over Ireland.

As a reward for that loyalty, King Henry bestowed the title of Barron onto Barnaby’s father.

And as a further show of loyalty Barnaby’s father sent him to England to be educated where he was raised beside Prince Edward, future Edward VI.

They became almost like brothers and were extremely close and they’re very fond of each other, Edward was isolated as a child so his bond with Barnaby was a very important one.

Barnaby went to France to serve under the French king under Edward’s orders at age 15, Edward was 13.

When Barnaby came back Edward had been battling tuberculosis and died at 15, Barnaby was 17.

He eventually in his mid 20s over threw his fathers reign as Baron cause his father was unstable, married his wife Joan, they had a baby named Margaret and became a knight and was involved in many battles.

There’s so much more I haven’t spoken of.

Currently I am heading My project: Finding Ossory: The Barnaby and Joan project and I’m searching for their bodies in hope to have them entombed together.

While also writing a heavily detailed biography, I’ll be documenting my trip to his lands and putting it on YouTube.

As part of my research for Finding Ossory: The Barnaby and Joan Project, I recently received a very special reply connected to Cullohill Castle. A kind friend of the castle’s long-time resident reached out to me, and I’ve been welcomed to visit during my trip next year.

What makes this so meaningful is that this person has lived in the shadow of Cullohill Castle for their entire life — nearly a century — and has kept its story alive by welcoming visitors and supporting the community.

I know noble families mingled within circles, im just curious how Barnaby knew of Joan and thought to himself with heart filled eyes she’s the one.

I’m saying I wonder how he came upon her, because Barnaby set up his own marriage, his father was effectively banished from the position when Barnaby proved he wasn’t alright at age 24.

And yes, Rowland Eustace of course being a Viscount, that’s a highly respected position and likely makes him known within the bounds of Harristown/ Baltinglass and beyond.

It’s just curious though, because I’ve been piecing together so much and I know that Barnaby and Joan were two emotionally intense people, particularly Barnaby, a lot of people in relationships of their time were more duty oriented and structured in a sense that expressive personality or nature was limited.

They didn’t limit emotions with each other, so if he’s gone for a 2 month campaign you bet he’s kissing his lady like he was gone for 6.

It’s beautiful really, Anyway, I wanted someone’s thoughts before this post turns into a novel.

Any opinions?

(I feel like Margaret had a really good relationship with her Eustace grandparents, compared to Fitzpatrick. Though curious, do you think Margaret could have met the former first Baron once?)

And from regional basis, and context of their lives Joan likely had a thicker Irish accent then Barnaby, Barnaby when speaking you’d likely still hear the whimsical sing song of his birth land in speech but it was smoothed over by his years growing up in England.

Hence, an English-Irish accent, while Joan yes, she knew English and spoke it, would have the thicker Irish accent, being that she grew up in the Harristown region, not too far from Dublin.

Barnaby was a present figure in his daughter’s life, but due to his duties, Margaret would be around her mother much more.

She would likely see her father significantly more in the winter time too. I was doing the maths and he (depending on what’s happening, of course) may have been gone 70% of the time during warmer months.

But when the cold was back that made travel harder, hence the noblemen would hunker in their fortress for the time, mainly focusing on the defence of that chosen fortress until the weather was manageable, but that number would reverse in winter to 70% indoors.

70% outdoors in the warmer months, then flipping to 70% at home/indoors when the cold winters came.

I was watching a video, and they were reconstructing the voice of Richard the Third, of course, as we know his remains were uncovered in 2012, so of course that gives them access to the skull, and with access to the skull, that gave them the perfect chance to analyse his skull and see the shape showing how his voice would come forth and be annunciated.

Tying into the whole accent thing, which ties into speaking, I know for certain that I can say with confidence that Barnaby had to speak rather loudly, firmly, and boomed since he would be commanding men.

So he would have to be someone that spoke rather sure of himself rather than more quiet, subtle, unsure tones.

And yes, like anyone, he could be quiet; everyone has their moments, but from these things, he had to have his own presence, and that’s very obvious. While not menacing in a sense to his family. He still had his own presence.

From all the evidence and from all the books examined over the past months, I can tell he was a very emotionally intense individual, someone who spoke with passion, perhaps could get heated (yes, we know he got heated; his anger is recorded in many instances throughout his whole life).

From evidence, subtle hints, and clues, I believe his wife matched that energy too, so they likely butt heads and argued, not in a bad manner or hurtful manner, but the type of arguing people do when they care about each other so much.

I realized today that I never actually talked about something that happened back in April 2025 — and it’s been sitting in the back of my mind ever since. It’s one of those experiences that’s equal parts bizarre, enlightening, and unintentionally funny, and since it’s now Thursday, November 20, 2025, I figured it’s finally time to write about it.

So, here’s the story.

📜 April 15th, 2025 — 10:18 AM (My Email)

On April 15th I sent what I thought was a perfectly normal, professional inquiry to a Fitzpatrick heritage group. I introduced myself, explained the historical-biographical project I’m doing on Barnaby Fitzpatrick (2nd Baron of Upper Ossory), and described the archival work I’ve been doing — letters, maps, burial sites, Dublin churches, the whole thing.

I also mentioned one of my long-term goals: if Barnaby’s burial place could ever be located, I’d like to explore a respectful re-entombment at Cullahill or another historically meaningful site. It was ambitious, yes — but historians and heritage groups work with repatriations and reburials all the time. It wasn’t meant to be sensational. Just respectful.

I closed politely, offered collaboration, and thanked them for their work in preserving Fitzpatrick heritage.

Pretty standard stuff.

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📨 April 15th, 2025 — 4:48 PM (His Reply, Same Day)

A few hours later, I got a reply — and to put it gently, it was not what I expected.

The response opened with:

“We are not anglophiles and so we have no interest in your project, which seems to us to border on the edge of insanity.”

It continued with commentary about “authentic Irish tradition” and implied my project wasn’t it. Then there was a sarcastic suggestion that maybe the “Royal and Ancient Fitzpatrick Gentleman’s Club” — an organization he clearly does not think highly of — would enjoy my ideas.

And that was it.

It was such a sharp tonal whiplash from my original message that I legitimately had to reread it to see if I missed something. Spoiler: I didn’t.

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⏳ April 15 → May 11 (My Delay)

I didn’t reply immediately. Not because I was upset, just… baffled. I wanted to be thoughtful, not reactive. And also because sometimes you need a minute (or in this case almost a month) to decide if you should even respond to something that dismissive.

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💬 May 11th, 2025 (My Reply)

When I finally did reply on May 11th, I kept everything polite and measured. I clarified that I wasn’t trying to be grandiose or unrealistic. I acknowledged his point (even though it was delivered with the subtlety of a brick). I told him I respected the work they do. I even thanked him for mentioning the other Fitzpatrick group and asked if he had more concrete contact info.

In other words: I handled it like a grown-up.

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📭 …And Then—Nothing. Absolutely Nothing.

He never replied.

Not a word.

Not even a “Best wishes.”

And honestly? That silence is almost more revealing than his original email.

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📌 What I Learned From This Weird Little Exchange

1. Tone says more than content.

His response wasn’t really about my project. It was about his lens.

He saw the connection to the Tudor court → labeled it “anglophile” → dismissed it.

Nationalist-leaning heritage groups often have a rigid idea of what counts as “authentically Irish,” and anything that crosses into English involvement — even when historically unavoidable — gets treated as suspicious or tainted.

Barnaby’s life stepped across political, cultural, and geographic worlds.

Some people simply don’t want that complexity.

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2. Gatekeeping is real — even (or especially) in surname societies.

I wasn’t asking for money or authority over anything.

I was just asking for resources and collaboration.

His reply came from a place of guarding narrative territory, not from academic curiosity.

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3. My May 11 reply makes the contrast obvious.

I stayed professional.

He vanished.

His silence said, “This wasn’t ever about dialogue.”

And that’s fine — because now I know that.

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4. It didn’t stop my project, not even slightly.

If anything, it clarified exactly the boundary between:

• heritage groups motivated by identity

and

• historical research motivated by truth.

Barnaby Fitzpatrick’s story is complicated, multilingual, cross-cultural, political, tragic, and human.

It doesn’t fit neatly into one ideological mold.

And that’s exactly why I’m writing it.

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✨Conclusion (took a while to type, especially with using proper grammar rather than just putting it all)

Sometimes you write a perfectly courteous email and someone responds with a wall of ideological static. You might wait a month, reply kindly, and then they ghost you forever. And somehow that becomes part of your research journey.

It’s funny, frustrating, and enlightening all at once.

And now, at least, it’s finally written down.