Hello, I'm Dr. Eleanorianica, and welcome to Gone Medieval from History Hit, the podcast that delves into the greatest millennium in human history.

We uncover the greatest mysteries, the gobsmacking details, and the latest groundbreaking research from the Vikings to the Normans, from kings to popes, to the

Crusades. We delve into the rebellions, plots, and murders that tell us who we really were.

And how we got here.

Thank you. If there's one thing you can count on when you wander into a church at this time of year, it's the nativity scene.

Front and center of the ramshackle stable you first encounter Mary and Joseph.

Mary sits, radiating serenely, while Joseph wonders if this really was the most sanitary place for his wife to give birth.

In the manger lies the glowing newborn baby Jesus, wrapped in swaddling clothes that often look suspiciously like a tea towel.

Around them gather shepherds, who were probably just trying to mind their own business when an angel turned up in the middle of the night with a message in a light show.

And then there are the animals.

The donkey still sulking from having carried a very pregnant Mary all the way from Nazareth.

The ox who's just chewing cud, oblivious to whatever is going on.

And a few random sheep who have wandered in because sheep basically follow anyone with a stick.

Overhead, a giant tinfoil star announces in no uncertain terms,

you have arrived at your destination.

It's such a cozy and comforting scene that we couldn't imagine Christmas and a million infant school productions without it.

More on that later.

But did you know that we have St. Francis of Assisi to thank for the creation of the nativity scene in the 13th century Italy?

Listen on.

Grecoe 1223.

The Rieti Valley lies dark and silent when the first flashes of torches, carried by villagers, appear along the mountain trails.

Whispers had flown from Hamlet to Hamlet that the poor man of Assisi was preparing something

...