‘My daughter wanted me to treat her more like a princess.
So, I married her to a stranger to strengthen the alliance with Poland!’
From dutiful daughters to runaway nuns, from empresses to rebels. The life of a medieval princess was, perhaps, not as predictable as we have been led to believe. At times, it is true, they were married off to a foreign prince, never to see England or their family again. But we can count the number of girls that happened to on one hand. Which is quite remarkable, given the distances and pace of travel in medieval times, when a horse could cover around 20 miles a day and a horse litter, the popular form of travel for noble women, would cover far less than that.
Some princesses even visited home after they married or were visited by members of their family; some never even left England.
Marrying your daughter to a prince in a distant land and never hearing from her again was not the purpose of a royal marriage. It was never in the king’s interest to abandon his daughter, or sister, once she was married abroad. Royal daughters were raised to be a personal and diplomatic link to their homeland. They were the means of keeping communications open when all other options failed; private letters were used to warn against treachery or prevent a breakdown in diplomatic relations.
Some did escape this destiny. For instance, a number of William the Conqueror’s daughters became nuns. Cecilia had that life decided for her from a young age, but Adelida appears to have chosen this course after a number of failed marriage proposals. Perhaps she had had enough of the royal marriage market? King Stephen’s daughter, Mary, was also destined for the Church, with her parents even founding a religious house for her. Kidnapped for her royal blood, and forced into marriage, she would return to the convent after becoming a mother. The scandal was not of her making, unlike Gunhild, the daughter of King Harold II, who seems to have had a rather relaxed attitude to marriage and relationships; a woman before her time – by about 1,000 years! Gunhild had spent time in the convent, possibly having sought sanctuary after the Norman Conquest. There is uncertainty as to whether she ever took her vows; though the church seemed to believe she had and sought her return to the cloistered life.
Mary of Woodstock
Edward I’s daughter, Mary of Woodstock, was also destined for a career in the church, though she does not appear to have been suited to the contemplative lifestyle. She managed to spend as much time as she could at court; her father and brother regularly paying off gambling debts. Controversy even followed her beyond the grave, when John de Warenne, Earl of Surrey, trying to obtain a divorce from Mary’s niece, Joan of Bar, claimed that he had had an affair with her, a nun!
The last medieval royal nun was Bridget of York, the seventh and youngest daughter of Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville. Only 3 years old when her father died and she and her siblings were declared illegitimate, by 1489 Bridget was living at Dartford Priory, in the care of its Prioress, Elizabeth Cressener. Although she was cloistered, Bridget was not forgotten, nor isolated from her family. In 1492, she was able to attend her mother’s funeral. She was remembered in the will of her grandmother Cecily Neville, Duchess of York and Elizabeth of York’s wardrobe accounts from 1502 to 1503 indicate that the queen sent money to her sister at Dartford.
One English princess travelled far from home, into Kyivan Rus. King Harold’s oldest daughter, Gytha, came from a different society and generation. The Godwin family had strong Scandinavian ties, and it would have been natural for Gytha and her brothers to look for shelter and a future within that sphere, which stretched all the way to the court of the Grand Princes of Kyiv, as far away from the conquering Normans as possible.
Following the Norman Conquest, the focus of England’s foreign policy changed. Royal daughters were married into the European countries that would benefit England, those with close links geographically and culturally.
While English kings married French princesses, and Scottish kings married English princesses, the reverse happened rarely, if ever. Only one Scottish princess, Matilda of Scotland, married an English king, Henry I. And no English princess ever married a French king or an heir to the French throne, not in medieval times. The closest we came to it was Blanche of Castile, granddaughter of Henry II and niece of King John, who married the future Louis VIII. With John having no legitimate daughter at the time, he had to be creative and reach out to his wider family for a suitable princess to cement the fragile peace between him and Philip II of France.
Empress Matilda depicted at the coronation of her granddaughter, Matilda of England, as Duchess of Saxony, in an image from the Gospels of Henry the Lion.
Although no English princess became a queen of France, that is not to say English princesses did not marry Frenchmen. It is, perhaps, a clear indication of the animosity of Anglo-French relations in medieval times that kings of England were far happier to marry their daughters to the counts and dukes of the many semi-autonomous regions of France, such as Brittany, Toulouse and Blois; regions that challenged and stalled the expansion of the kingdom of France itself. The marriages of daughters into Germany, the Low Countries and Spain also served the policy of containing England’s biggest rival within its borders and preventing expansion into territories that could threaten England’s trading routes and sphere of influence.
Royal women journeyed great distances to marry. Empress Matilda is, perhaps, the most famous, but also Joanna Plantagenet, Henry II’s daughter and Richard I’s sister, and Isabella, Henry III’s sister, travelled further than most of the English princesses. While Empress Matilda remained close to her family through letters, there may also have been a meeting with her father on the borders of their respective domains in the late 1110s. Of Joanna and Isabella, each received visits from their brothers. Though in Isabella’s case it was her brother Richard, rather than Henry himself, she would also have met up with her younger sister, Eleanor, who stayed in Italy while her husband, Simon de Montfort, joined her brother Richard on Crusade. And in Joanna’s case, it was a little more than a visit, joining her brother, Richard the Lionheart, in the Third Crusade. But it seems apparent that both brothers, on their way to the Crusades, planned their routes to facilitate a meeting with their respective sisters.
And then there were the scandals, King Henry I’s illegitimate daughter, Juliane, who tried to kill her own father with a crossbow. And Joan, Lady of Wales, the illegitimate daughter of King John, the wife of Llywelyn the Great, who was found in her husband’s bedroom with another man. Such stories serve to demonstrate that life was did not always give royal women a ‘happily ever after’.
There were also royal daughters who were not born as princesses, but achieved that style through their father’s claiming of the English throne. Of William the Conqueror’s daughters, only the youngest, Adela, Countess of Blois, was born ‘in the purple’. We know this as Godfrey of Reims wrote a poem saying just that:
The duke’s child would rise to become an excellent woman, The goddess did not think it sufficient for her to be of ducal status. The royal virgin obtained by fate that her father would be king. In order for Adela to be the daughter of a king, the Fates allowed the father to establish himself as king. Because the virgin was not allowed to leave the womb Her father owed the kingdom of England to her
Philippa, Queen of Denmark, Norway and Sweden
Later, Henry of Bolingbroke’s seizure of the throne in 1399 created two new princesses of England, Blanche and Philippa. Their mother, Mary de Bohun, had died giving birth to Philippa in 1394 and in 1398, their father had been sent into exile; only to return the following year and force Richard II’s abdication. Their father’s accession as Henry IV saw the two girls’ marriage prospects improve dramatically. As the daughters of a duke, they would have expected to marry a rich heir to English lands. As the daughters of a king, they were now bargaining chips in international relations. Marriage would see Philippa become queen of Denmark, Norway and Sweden, while Blanche would travel to Germany to become Countess Palatine, taking with her a magnificent, jewel-encrusted crown that has survived to this day. Blanche fulfilled her duties by producing a son and heir, in what appears to have been a happy and loving marriage. Philippa never realised the joy of motherhood but ably attended to her duties as queen in other ways, as a protector and patron of her people, even leading the defence of Copenhagen, and a trusted consort and regent for her husband, King Eric.
Though not technically princesses, even illegitimate daughters could prove useful to kings. Henry I, in particular, would use his 10 illegitimate daughters to strengthen and cement alliances just as legitimate princesses could have been, with one Sybilla of Normandy becoming Queen of Scots, on her marriage to King Alexander I. The advantage to a king was that such marriages brought kings and rivals into the family, without passing on any claim to the English throne, thus being no threat to the king’s legitimate heirs.
As a usurpation can make princesses, as in the case of Henry IV’s daughters, it can also unmake them. With Richard III’s seizure of the throne in 1483, the daughters of Edward IV went from being the pampered darlings of England, with glittering futures ahead of them, to the bastardised daughters of a bigamous dead king.
What a change in fortunes!
The York sisters from the window in Canterbury Cathedral
As events unfolded in the summer of 1483, and the two princes were held in the Tower of London, gradually seen less and less within the precincts of the fortress, until they were no longer seen at all, Elizabeth of York and her sisters remained in sanctuary with their mother. A focus for political disaffection and an embarrassment to the new regime, it was a situation that Richard III could not allow to continue. Rumours abounded that plans were afoot to sneak the old king’s daughters out of Sanctuary and away to the Continent, safely beyond the reach of Richard and at the disposal of loyal Yorkists wanting to reinstate the line of Edward IV. To thwart such plans, Richard decided to open negotiations with Elizabeth Woodville, to persuade her to allow her daughters to leave sanctuary. Agreement was reached in March 1484, whereby Elizabeth of York and her sisters would be treated as befitted the king’s kinswomen.
After almost a year within the confines of Westminster Abbey, the daughters of Edward IV emerged from their sanctuary and were given lodgings at court. They had lost the prospect of dazzling futures as queens and duchesses and their status was now forever tainted by the questions over their legitimacy.
Richard III himself did have at least two illegitimate children and one of those was a daughter, Katherine. She would not be a princess, but as the natural daughter of a king, she has her place in history. Unfortunately, the information on Katherine Plantagenet is scant. Her date and year of birth are unknown. Given Richard’s reputation for piety and loyalty, it is assumed that she was born before Richard’s marriage to Anne Neville in 1472, as she herself was married in 1484. The minimum age for girls to marry was 12, but most parents waited until their daughters were 14 or 15, at least, before finding them husbands. Richard chose his friend William Herbert, Earl of Huntingdon, as his daughter’s husband. Herbert agreed to provide Katherine with a jointure worth £200 a year. For his part, the king agreed to bear the costs of the marriage and to endow that couple with lands and lordships that they could pass on to their male heirs. Katherine died before the coronation of Elizabeth of York in 1486 and was buried in the church of St James Garlickhithe, London.
Crown of Blanche of England
The experiences of the royal daughters throughout the the medieval era are disparate, not just in their futures but even in their family lives as they were growing up. Not all princesses were made in the same mould and each one found her own way to deal with her life and the cards that she was dealt. In my research I frequently discovered instances of happy medieval marriages – and even if a marriage was not based on love, it did not mean that it would not be successful. Indeed, in many such cases the young woman concerned found her own way of succeeding, whether it was through her children or the management of estates – or the fact that a lasting peace was achieved between her two countries.
Events in England would surely have taught them to weather the storms of married life – and international relations.
One thing is certain, these women were not mere pawns, or ornaments on the arm of a king, prince, duke or lord. They were not simply baby-making machines. Yes, in the masculine world they inhabited, a boy was always a prime requirement. A son was needed to continue the family line, to rule and command armies. But daughters were also necessary. They had a purpose – to seal alliances and to act as diplomats to protect English interests in the countries into which they married.
Their stories are quite remarkable.
*
Princesses of the Early Middle Ages: Royal Daughters of the Conquest and Princesses of the Later Middle Ages: Royal Daughters of the Plantagenets tell the stories of England’s royal daughters from 1066 to the rise of the Tudors, from the last Anglo-Saxon princesses to the fall of the House of York.
Were they really pampered pawns sent off to marriages on the Continent, out of sight and out of mind?
Perhaps, there was different story, where a foreign marriage does not mean eternal exile, but a purpose in life, where a princess is a diplomat, an ambassador for England in her new country.
Where she is the bond between allies – most of the time.
Their stories are touching, inspiring and, at times, heartbreaking...
Praise for Princesses of the Early Middle Ages:
Heidi Malagisi: ‘This is another excellent book by Sharon Bennett Connolly. Extremely well researched and relatively easy to follow along, which is a great thing because there are so many Matildas and Eleanors in this book.‘
Tony Riches: “I challenge anyone with an interest in medieval Britain to not find something they will learn from this book.”
Anna Belfrage: “I just love how [Sharon] presents this huge cast of real life people in a casual, chatty tone that has me expecting the various female protagonists to suddenly pop their head up and add their own commentary.“
Praise for Princesses of the Later Middle Ages:
Elizabeth Chadwick:‘Really interesting and informative and gives a great handle on the goings on surrounding these ladies!’
Kathryn Warner: ‘A deeply researched, richly detailed and fascinating account of late medieval England’s forgotten princesses. I loved it!’
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The momentous events of 1066, the story of invasion, battle and conquest, are well known. But what of the women? Silk and the Sword: The Women of the Norman Conquest traces the fortunes of the women who had a significant role to play during the Norman Conquest – wives, lovers, sisters, mothers, leaders. These are lives full of drama, pathos and sometimes mystery: Edith and Gytha searching the battlefield of Hastings for the body of Harold, his lover and mother united in their grief for the fallen king. Who was Ælfgyva, the lady of the Bayeux Tapestry, portrayed with a naked man at her feet?
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Heroines of the Tudor World focuses on the women who lived through the Renaissance and Reformation, examining the threats and challenges they faced and how they overcame them. These are the women who ruled, the women who founded dynasties, the women who fought for religious freedom, their families and love. These are the women who made a difference, who influenced countries, kings and the Reformation.
Derek Birks: ‘An excellent account of the changing roles of women in Tudor society.’
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Also by Sharon Bennett Connolly:
Heroines of the Medieval World; Silk and the Sword: The Women of the Norman Conquest; Ladies of Magna Carta: Women of Influence in Thirteenth Century England; Defenders of the Norman Crown: Rise and Fall of the Warenne Earls of Surrey; King John’s Right Hand Lady: The Story of Nicholaa de la Haye; Women of the Anarchy; Heroines of the Tudor World; Scotland’s Medieval Queens: From St Margaret to Margaret of Denmark; Princesses of the Early Middle Ages: Royal Daughters of the Conquest (March 2026); Princesses of the Later Middle Ages; Royal Daughters of the Plantagenets (August 2026)
Alternate Endings: An anthology of historical fiction short stories including Long Live the King… which is my take what might have happened had King John not died in October 1216. Available in paperback and kindle from Amazon.
Have a listen to theA Slice of Medieval podcast, which I co-host with Historical fiction novelist Derek Birks. Derek and I welcome guests, such as Ian Mortimer, Bernard Cornwell, Elizabeth Chadwick and Scott Mariani, and discuss a wide range of topics in medieval history, from significant events to the personalities involved.
One of the primary duties of a king is to marry and produce heirs; at least one son, preferably two (just in case anything happened to the first). This guarantees the succession and offers stability to a country. Even daughters were useful to a king, their marriages cementing alliances with friends and enemies alike. Although he only had one legitimate son, William the Ӕtheling, and one legitimate daughter, Empress Matilda, Henry I had more than 20 illegitimate children by a succession of mistresses, including at least 10 daughters.
The king recognised his illegitimate children and the taint of bastardy, especially for his daughters, did not unduly affect their marriage prospects. They were used to strengthen and cement alliances just as legitimate princesses would have been. However, they did not pass on any claim to the English throne, thus being no threat to the king’s heirs, William and Matilda.
One of the most colourful of Henry I’s illegitimate daughters is Juliane (or Juliana), possibly the king’s daughter by his mistress, Ansfride. Ansfride was the widow of Anskill, a knight who was a tenant of Abingdon Abbey who had died following his imprisonment by King William II. It is thought that Ansfride had at least three children by Henry, including Richard of Lincoln, who had perished in the White Ship disaster. Little is known of another son, Foulques, who may have died young or become a monk.
The fact Richard and Juliane were close in age, and that Richard would later intercede for Juliane with their father, suggests they may have shared a mother. Although the argument is not infallible, Henry was known to be promiscuous and may have had more than one mistress at the same time.
Juliane was probably born in the late 1080s or early 1090s. Shortly after her father’s accession to the throne in 1100, Juliane was married to Eustace de Pacy, also known as Eustace de Breteuil, the illegitimate son of William de Breteuil. Orderic Vitalis recorded the marriages of both Juliane and her half-sister Matilda, saying of Eustace ‘The king gave him his daughter Juliana in marriage, and promised effective help against Gael and all his other enemies. At that time too the king married another of his daughters to Rotrou, count of Mortagne and she bore her husband a daughter called Philippa.’1
Chateau d’Ivry la Bataille, Normandy (wiki)
The death of Eustace’s father caused conflict between William de Breteuil’s possible heirs. Eustace’s main rivals were his cousins William de Gael and Reginald de Grancey. De Gael died shortly afterwards, leaving Reginald and Eustace to fight it out, each drawing in neighbouring lords and magnates as allies, devastating and destabilising the region. When Eustace approached Henry I for aid, the marriage was arranged between Eustace and Juliane. The Normans, according to Vitalis ‘accepted Eustace, his son by a concubine, because they chose to be ruled by a fellow countryman who was a bastard rather than by a legitimate Breton or Burgundian.’2
Henry I’s direct involvement thus brought the conflict quickly to an end, securing Eustace’s position and, by extension, his loyalty. The king then took the opportunity to impose his own garrison on the strategically important castle at Ivry, giving him a direct military presence in the region, in addition to the family connections fostered through his daughter, Juliane.
Eustace and Juliane had at least three children. Their son, William, succeeded his father as Seigneur de Pacy and tried unsuccessfully to recover Breteuil, which had been given to Ralph de Gael, the son of William de Gael. Although we do not have their names, Juliane and Eustace also had 2 daughters, whose gruesome fate is often laid at Henry I’s door (more on that shortly). It was over Henry’s control of Ivry that the king and his son-in-law came into conflict in 1119. According to Orderic Vitalis, Eustace had made many appeals to King Henry over the years, asking for the stronghold’s restoration to his domains. Eustace was ‘urged by his compatriots and kinsmen’ to press the king for the restoration of Ivry.
Henry I, Lincoln Cathedral Gallery of Kings
Henry prevaricated, saying that he would return Ivry at a future date and giving Eustace the son of Ralph Harenc, the castle’s custodian, as a hostage. In return, Eustace’s two daughters were sent to King Henry as hostages. An exchange of hostages as guarantees of good behaviour, or an adherence to an agreement, were commonplace in Norman times. And surely, Juliane and Eustace would have been reassured that their daughters were safe and well cared for in their grandfather’s custody.
For some unknown reason, and supposedly at the urging of his ally Amaury de Montfort, Eustace mutilated the boy, blinding him before sending him back to his father. Eustace may have believed that his familial relationship with King Henry would shield him from any reprisals. If he did, he was soon to be disabused of such confidence. Harenc went straight to the king and told him of the injuries Eustace had inflicted upon his son. Deeply moved by his vassal’s experience, the king handed over his two granddaughters:
‘Ralph Harenc took Eustace’s daughters with the permission of the angry king and avenged his son by cruelly putting out their eyes and cutting off the tips of their nostrils. So innocent childhood, alas! suffered for the sins of the fathers, and the feelings of both parents were roused by the suffering and maiming of their offspring.’3
The king also consoled Harenc with gifts and the return of the castle at Ivry. As you would expect, when Juliane and Eustace were informed of their daughters’ fate, they ‘were in great distress.’4 Eustace then fortified his castles at Lire, Glos, Pont Saint-Pierre and Pacy, and ‘sent his wife Juliana, who was the king’s daughter by a concubine, to Breteuil, and provided her with the knights necessary to defend the fortress.’5
Not wanting to anger King Henry, the burgesses of Breteuil sent messages to the king, informing him of Juliane’s occupation of the fortress. Henry I immediately rode to the town, where the gates were readily opened for him. He then ‘laid siege to the castle in which his defiant daughter had shut herself up.’6
14th century depiction of a woman with a crossbow
Apparently, Juliane appealed to her father. Asking for a meeting, though, according to Orderic Vitalis, it was with evil intent. Juliane ‘hoped to murder him. She had a crossbow ready drawn for the purpose and shot a bolt at her father.’7 If you hadn’t yet worked it out, Juliane’s relationship with her father, by this point, was at an all-time low. There must have been hurt on both sides. Juliane’s two daughters had been maimed and permanently disfigured, if not by Henry’s orders, then at least by his acquiescence. Ralph Harenc would not have undertaken such a horrific action if he was not assured of the king’s support. Henry, on the other hand, now had his own grievance in his daughter’s attempt to kill him. In no mood to attempt appeasement or reconciliation,
‘The king immediately had the castle drawbridge destroyed, so that no one could enter or leave. Juliana, seeing that she was completely surrounded and that no one was at hand to help her, surrendered the castle to the king, but could find no means of persuading him to allow her to leave freely. Indeed by the king’s command she was forced to leap down from the walls, with no bridge or support, and fell shamefully, with bare buttocks, into the depths of the moat. This happened at the beginning of Lent, in the third week of February, when the castle moat was full to overflowing with winter rains, and the frozen waters naturally struck numbing cold into the tender flesh of the woman when she fell. The unlucky Amazon got out of the predicament shamefully as best she could and, withdrawing to her husband who was then at Pacy.’8
King Henry rewarded the burgesses of Breteuil with gifts and, not long after, gave the town to Ralph de Gael. Ralph had been one of the claimants of Breteuil on the death of Eustace’s father, William. He was the second son of William’s sister, Emma, and had been, according to Vitalis, William’s preferred heir at the time of his death. Ralph de Gael was given the entire lordship, save for Pacy which was still being held by Eustace. Eventually, Juliane and Eustace were reconciled with Henry I, possibly through the intervention of Juliane’s brother, Richard of Lincoln. Richard certainly spoke up for his sister in the king’s presence and ‘pleaded his sister’s cause.’9 He may well have been working behind the scenes to persuade their father to accept his sister’s submission, when it came. Friends of the couple also spoke up for them.
Rebellion against the king was not as fatalistic an action as it would be in the later medieval period. Nobles tended to keep their heads, at the expense of a forfeiture of lands. Which meant that submitting to the king meant a loss of pride and income but was not accompanied by a danger to life itself, not even if you had attempted to murder your royal father!
As always in the case of Eustace and Juliane, Vitalis credits their advisers in helping them make their decisions. And it is these counsellors, according to Vitalis, who persuaded Eustace and Juliane to approach the king whilst he was besieging Évreux. The couple
The arms of the town of Breteuil
‘hurried to the siege, entered the king’s tent barefoot, and fell at his feet. The king said to them in astonishment, “Why have you dared to approach me without my safe-conduct, after provoking me by so many wrongs?” To which Eustace replied, “You are my natural lord. Therefore I come to you without fear as to my lord, to offer my service loyally to you, and to make full restitution for my misdeeds, as you in your just compassion judge to be right.”’10
Appeased, the king was moved to mercy and ordered that Juliane should return to Pacy, whilst Eustace was to accompany the king to Rouen to ‘hear what is my pleasure.’11 Eustace must have accompanied his father-in-law with trepidation, waiting to hear how much his rebellion will cost him. And Juliane, awaiting news at Pacy, must have been no less anxious as to her husband’s fate and that of their lands. The king had already given Breteuil to Eustace’s cousin but offered Eustace ‘an annual rent of three hundred marks of silver in England.’12 Eustace was not to lose any more land and retained Pacy as his own fief, that would descend to his son.
Eustace ‘fortified Pacy with walls and watch-towers, and lived for more than twenty years, enjoying great wealth.’13 Eustace died at Pacy in February 1136. It is not known by how long Juliane survived him, her date of death has gone unrecorded but she ‘abandoned the self-indulgent life she had led for the religious life and, becoming a nun, served the Lord God in the new abbey of Fontevrault.’14 No mention is made of the fate of the couple’s unfortunate daughters; disfigured as they were, it is possible they sought seclusion in an abbey. The poor girls had paid a high price for their parents’ rebellion.
Juliane of Fontevrault was by far the most adventurous and notorious of Henry I’s numerous illegitimate daughters.
Notes:
1. Vitalis, The ecclesiastical history of Orderic Vitalis, vol. 6, p. 41; 2. ibid; 3. ibid, p. 213; 4. ibid; 5. ibid; 6. ibid; 7. ibid, pp. 213-215; 8, ibid, p. 215; 9. ibid, p. 279; 10. ibid; 11. ibid; 12. ibid; 13. ibid; 14. ibid
Vitalis, The ecclesiastical history of Orderic Vitalis, vol. 6; oxforddnb.com;Donald Matthew, King Stephen; Robert Bartlett, England Under the Norman and Angevin Kings; David Williamson, Brewer’s British Royalty; the History Today Companion to British History; Dan Jones, the Plantagenets; englishmonarchs.co.uk; The Oxford Companion to British History Edited by John Cannon; Mike Ashley, The Mammoth Book of British kings & Queens; Alison Weir, Britain’s Royal Families, the Complete Genealogy; medievalilsts.net; The Plantagenet Chronicles Edited by Elizabeth Hallam; The Warenne (Hyde) Chronicle, edited by Elisabeth Van Houts and Rosalind C. Love; Cockayne, G.E., The Complete Peerage of England, Scotland, Ireland, Great Britain and the United Kingdom, extant, extinct or dormant; fmg.ac, Catherine Hanely, Matilda; Henry of Huntingdon, The History of the English People1000-1154
Daughters of kings were often used to seal treaty alliances and forge peace with England’s enemies. Princesses of the Early Middle Ages: Royal Daughters of the Conquest explores the lives of these young women, how they followed the stereotype, and how they sometimes managed to escape it. It will look at the world they lived in, and how their lives and marriages were affected by political necessity and the events of the time. Princesses of the Early Middle Ages will also examine how these girls, who were often political pawns, were able to control their own lives and fates. Whilst they were expected to obey their parents in their marriage choices, several princesses were able to exert their own influence on these choices, with some outright refusing the husbands offered to them.
Their stories are touching, inspiring and, at times, heartbreaking.
Princesses of the Early Middle Ages: Royal Daughters of the Conquest is now available from Pen & Sword and Amazon.
Sharon is also the author of:
Heroines of the Medieval World; Silk and the Sword: The Women of the Norman Conquest; Ladies of Magna Carta: Women of Influence in Thirteenth Century England; Defenders of the Norman Crown: Rise and Fall of the Warenne Earls of Surrey; King John’s Right Hand Lady: The Story of Nicholaa de la Haye; Women of the Anarchy; Heroines of the Tudor World; Scotland’s Medieval Queens: From St Margaret to Margaret of Denmark; Princesses of the Early Middle Ages: Royal Daughters of the Conquest (March 2026); Princesses of the Later Middle Ages; Royal Daughters of the Plantagenets (August 2026)
Alternate Endings: An anthology of historical fiction short stories including Long Live the King… which is my take what might have happened had King John not died in October 1216. Available in paperback and kindle from Amazon.
Have a listen to theA Slice of Medieval podcast, which I co-host with Historical fiction novelist Derek Birks. Derek and I welcome guests, such as Ian Mortimer, Bernard Cornwell, Elizabeth Chadwick and Scott Mariani, and discuss a wide range of topics in medieval history, from significant events to the personalities involved.
History... the interesting bits! 