Medieval Rebel Women – Page 10 – History… the interesting bits!

Le Charte aux Lacs d’Amour

09/12/202320/04/2025Sharon Bennett Connolly2 Comments

When writing medieval non-fiction, you don’t get to tell many love stories. Most marriages were arranged between families for mutual gain or assistance. As a consequence, you don’t really expect to come across many tales of love – and actual love tokens are rare indeed. But in researching the story of Nicholaa de la Haye, I came across just that: a rather unique love token.

Unfortunately, the love token did not belong to Nicholaa, the defender of Lincoln Castle and first ever female sheriff in England, it belonged to one of her sisters. Nicholaa was the eldest of three sisters and while she inherited Lincoln Castle and her family’s English lands, her sisters, Julia (or Gila) and Isabel, married and settled in Normandy. The story of the love token is Julia’s.

Julia, whose name appears as Gille in French but appears on charters in the Latin, Gila, was married to Richard du Hommet, who died around 1199/1200. Richard was the eldest son and heir of William du Hommet (or Hummez), constable of Normandy, who died around 1204 and his wife, Lucy. According to a charter dated 1232, recording donations to the monks of Saint-Sauveur-le-Vicomte, Lucy was the granddaughter and heir of Adam de Bruys. As constable, William du Hommet appeared as a witness to a charter of 1 March 1190 in which King Richard I ‘confirms to the archbishop and church of Rouen and all the bishops and mother churches of Normandy, concerning those who break the trêve de Dieu (a truce organised by the church).’

As with most medieval women, we know very little of Julia’s actual dates, so we have to generalise or make educated guesses. Julia was probably born sometime in the late 1150s, and would have grown up on her family’s lands in Lincolnshire. She will have probably married Richard du Hommet some time in the 1170s, when she was in her mid-to-late teens. She died in the 1190s and her husband remarried before his own death at the turn of the century. Julia and Richard had at least three sons and two or more daughters; two of these sons were the last two constables of Normandy from the Hommet family, succeeding their grandfather in the role. Richard du Hommet had certainly married Julia by the mid-1170s at the latest, when his grandfather, another Richard du Hommet, was still constable of Normandy, and while the younger Richard was still underage. The couple’s first child was born around 1180.

Richard du Hommet predeceased his father by four or five years, so never became constable of Normandy in his own right, though he does appear to have assisted his father in his duties. In June 1190, Richard appears as a witness, alongside his father, to a charter of Richard I in which he ‘confirms to St Martin’s, Troarn and the monks there serving God the vill and island of Reimberhome etc., with the right of presentation to the church of St Mary there, as given, with his assent, by John son of William count of Ponthieu, etc.’ Father and son are recorded as ‘Willelmo de Humeto constabulario; Richardo de Humeto’ in the witness list.

Richard and Julia are also the subjects of a unique charter, issued by King Richard I in June 1190. The charter was preserved by the Abbey of Aunai, which had been founded by the du Hommet family. It conferred the manors of Varreville and Pouppeville upon the couple, naming both ‘Ricardo de Humetis’ and ‘Gila, uxor sue’ (his wife) in the grant.

And it has very famous laces by which the seal was attached.

These laces are made of silk and each one is 50cm in length; one of the laces is green, now turning yellow, and the other is blue, speckled with brown. An Old French poem was embroidered on the laces:

“Jo sui druerie. Ne me dunez mie ; ki nostre amur deseivre la mort pu”,

(In French, ‘Je suis gage d’amour. Ne me donnez pas. Que celui qui sépare notre amour puisse recevoir la mort’ and in English, ‘I am a pledge of love. Do not give me away. May death come to whoever separates our love’).

For this reason, the charter is known as the charte aux lacs d’amour (the charter with the laces of love). And while the idea of a love poem being attached to a charter issued in relation to a royal land grant is charming, the reasons behind it remain elusive. At first glance, the grant appears to have no special significance that would justify such a declaration of love, nor such careful detail and precision work being undertaken on its creation.

I can’t help thinking that Richard I – the Lionheart – who was a fan of the troubadour tradition and courtly love, would have heartily approved of turning the charter into a token of enduring love.

Unfortunately, while the laces are still attached to the document, the words, which were still visible in the nineteenth century, have now faded away. At least someone thought to record them before they faded from existence.

Under Henry I, the lands of Varreville and Pouppeville had been in the hands of Roger, Bishop of Salisbury, and had returned to the crown on his death. King Henry II had granted the same lands to Richard de la Haye, but they had reverted to the crown on his death in 1169, and were accounted for in the Exchequer accounts of 1180. So, it seems that in granting Varreville and Pouppeville to Julia and Richard du Hommet, Richard I was returning them to their former, rightful owners. This may explain why Julia is specifically mentioned in the charter and the grant stipulates that the lands pass to Richard’s children by Julia, rather than Richard’s children by any wife.

According to Léopold De Lisle, in his study of the charter, the two manors formed Julia’s dowry, though she and her husband were unable to take possession of the lands immediately after the marriage. In the charter King Richard ‘gives, renderes and confirms to Richard du Hommet, and to Gila [Julia] his wife, and to their heirs, Pouppeville and Varreville with all their dependencies, for them to hold from the king with their barony, by right of the said Gila [Julia].’ De Lisle goes on to suggest that the laces used, with the accompanying love poem, were once a love token, perhaps given by Julia to Richard on their wedding day, and that Richard du Hommet persuaded the king to attach them to the charter that gave him possession of Julia’s lands, as a symbol of their union.

If so, the fact that they have survived the centuries is particularly poignant.

When Julia died in the 1190s, she was buried in Blanchelande Abbey, a religious community of the Premonstratensian order, known as the White Canons, in Neufmesnil. The abbey had been founded by Julia’s parents, and it was where her father, Richard de la Haye, had been interred after his death in 1169. On her death, Julia’s mother, Matilda de Vernon, with the approval of her son-in-law, Richard du Hommet, made a donation to the abbey in her daughter’s name. After a short period as a widower, Richard du Hommet married for a second time, to Alienor, widow of Robert de la Haie, who may well have been a distant cousin of Julia (I did not have time to delve into the familial relationship, unfortunately).

The enduring love of Richard and Julia is forever entwined in the laces attached to the land charter. Even if we can no longer see the words, we know they were there and survived seven centuries before they faded away…

This article first appeared on ElizabethChadwick.com

Images:

Les archives du Calvados

Sources:

Les archives du Calvados; Leopold Deslisle, “Notice sur les attaches d’un sceau de Richard Coeur-de-Lion”; Richard of Devizes, The Chronicle of Richard of Devizes; Roger of Howden (Hoveden), The Annals of Roger of Howden; The Plantagenet Chronicles edited by Elizabeth Hallam; Brassey’s Battles by John Laffin; 1215 The Year of Magna Carta by Danny Danziger & John Gillingham; The Life and times of King John by Maurice Ashley; The Plantagenets, the Kings Who Made England by Dan Jones; England Under the Norman and Angevin Kings by Robert Bartlett; lincolnshirelife.co.uk; catherinehanley.co.uk; magnacarta800th.com; lothene.org; lincolncastle.com; The Sheriff: The Man and His Office by Irene Gladwin; Louise Wilkinson, Women in Thirteenth Century Lincolnshire; Richard Huscraft, Tales from the Long Twelfth Century; J.W.F. Hill, Medieval Lincoln; swaton.org.uk; oxforddnb.com; Ingulph, Ingulph’ Chronicle of the Abbey of Croyland; Stephen Church, King John: England, Magna Carta and the Making of a Tyrant; Marc Morris, King John; Pipe Rolls; Red Book of the Exchequer

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Also by Sharon Bennett Connolly:

Heroines of the Tudor World tells the stories of the most remarkable women from European history in the time of the Tudor dynasty, 1485-1603. These are the women who ruled, the women who founded dynasties, the women who fought for religious freedom, their families and love. Heroines of the Tudor World is now available for pre-order from Amberley Publishing and Amazon UK. Women of the Anarchy demonstrates how Empress Matilda and Matilda of Boulogne, unable to wield a sword themselves, were prime movers in this time of conflict and lawlessness. It shows how their strengths, weaknesses, and personal ambitions swung the fortunes of war one way – and then the other. Available from Bookshop.org, Amberley Publishing and Amazon UK. King John’s Right-Hand Lady: The Story of Nicholaa de la Haye is the story of a truly remarkable lady, the hereditary constable of Lincoln Castle and the first woman in England to be appointed sheriff in her own right. Available from all good bookshops Pen & Sword Books, bookshop.org and Amazon.

Defenders of the Norman Crown: The Rise and Fall of the Warenne Earls of Surrey tells the fascinating story of the Warenne dynasty, from its origins in Normandy, through the Conquest, Magna Carta, the wars and marriages that led to its ultimate demise in the reign of Edward III. Available from Pen & Sword Books, Amazon in the UK and US, and Bookshop.org. Ladies of Magna Carta: Women of Influence in Thirteenth Century England looks into the relationships of the various noble families of the 13th century, and how they were affected by the Barons’ Wars, Magna Carta and its aftermath; the bonds that were formed and those that were broken. It is now available in paperback and hardback from Pen & Sword, Amazon, and Bookshop.org. Heroines of the Medieval World tells the stories of some of the most remarkable women from Medieval history, from Eleanor of Aquitaine to Julian of Norwich. Available now from Amberley Publishing and Amazon, and Bookshop.org. Silk and the Sword: The Women of the Norman Conquest traces the fortunes of the women who had a significant role to play in the momentous events of 1066. Available now from Amazon, Amberley Publishing, and Bookshop.org.

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.

Podcast:

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Matilda and Edith, Women of Different Fates

14/10/202311/10/2025Sharon Bennett Connolly3 Comments

History...the Interesting Bits — *The Battle of Hastings, from the Bayeux Tapestry*

Although the Battle of Hastings was fought by men, the women of the two opponents, Harold and William, had as much invested in the outcome as their husbands. The two women, however, have very different reputations. Whereas Matilda appears as the epitome of the medieval ideal woman, Edith has come down through history as ‘the other woman’. However, for both these women, their futures, and the futures of their children, were inextricably linked with the fates of the men fighting on Senlac Hill on that October morning in 1066.

Harold had met Edith Swan-neck at about the same time as he became earl of East Anglia, in 1044. Which makes it possible that Edith Swan-neck and the East Anglian magnate, Eadgifu the Fair, are one and the same. Eadgifu the Fair held over 270 hides of land and was one of the richest magnates in England. The majority of her estates lay in Cambridgeshire, but she also held land in Buckinghamshire, Hertfordshire, Essex and Suffolk; in the Domesday Book Eadgifu held the manor at Harkstead in Suffolk, which was attached to Harold’s manor of Brightlingsea in Essex and some of her Suffolk lands were tributary to Harold’s manor of East Bergholt. While it is by no means certain that Eadgifu is Edith Swan-neck several historians – including Ann Williams in the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography – make convincing arguments that they were. Even their names, Eadgifu and Eadgyth, are so similar that the difference could be merely a matter of spelling or mistranslation; indeed, the abbey of St Benet of Hulme, Norfolk, remembers an Eadgifu Swanneshals among its patrons.

By 1065 Harold had been living with the wonderfully-named Eadgyth Swanneshals (Edith the Swan-neck) for twenty years. History books label her as Harold’s concubine, but Edith was, obviously, no weak and powerless peasant, so it’s highly likely they went through a hand-fasting ceremony – or ‘Danish marriage’ – a marriage, but not one recognized by the church, thus allowing Harold to take a second ‘wife’ should he need to. Harold and Edith had at least 6 children together; including four sons, Godwin, Edmund, Magnus and Ulf and two daughters, Gytha, who married Vladimir Monomakh, Great Prince of Kiev, and Gunnhild, was to become a nun at Wilton Abbey in Wiltshire, but never took her vows.

However, despite their twenty years and many children together, with the health of the king, Edward the Confessor, deteriorating, it became politically expedient for Harold to marry in order to strengthen his position as England’s premier earl and, possibly, next king. Ealdgyth was the daughter of Alfgar, earl of Mercia, and, according to William of Jumieges, very beautiful. She was the widow of Gruffudd ap Llywelyn, King of Gwynedd from 1039 and ruler of all Wales after 1055, with whom she had had at least one child, a daughter, Nest. Gruffudd had been murdered in 1063, following an expedition into Wales, some sources suggest it was by Harold himself, however Gruffudd’s own men are the chief suspects. Harold’s subsequent marriage to Ealdgyth not only secured the support of the earls of Northumbria and Mercia, but also weakened the political ties of the same earls with the new rulers of north Wales.

Rather than his loyal and loving ‘wife’, Edith, it was Ealdgyth, therefore, who was for a short time, queen of England. However, with Harold having to defend his realm, first against Harold Hardrada and his own brother, Tostig, at Stamford Bridge in September of 1066 and, subsequently, against William of Normandy at Hastings, it is unlikely Ealdgyth had time to enjoy her exalted status. At the time of the Battle of Hastings, 14^th October 1066, Ealdgyth was in London, but her brothers took her north to Chester soon after. Although sources are confused it seems possible that Ealdgyth was heavily pregnant and gave birth to a son, Harold Haroldson, within months of the battle. Unfortunately, that is the last we hear of Ealdgyth; her fate remains unknown. Young Harold is said to have grown up in exile on the Continent and died in 1098.

Despite his marriage to Ealdgyth it seems Edith Swan-neck remained close to Harold and it was she who was waiting close by when the king faced William of Normandy at Senlac Hill near Hastings on 14^th October 1066. She awaited the outcome alongside Harold’s mother, Gytha. Having lost a son, Tostig, just two weeks before, fighting against his brother and with the Norwegians at the Battle of Stamford Bridge, Gytha lost three more sons – Harold, Gyrth and Leofwine – and her grandson, Haakon, in the battle at Hastings.

And it was Edith and the elderly Gytha, who wandered the blood-soaked field in the aftermath of the battle, in search of the fallen king. Sources say that Gytha was unable to identify her sons amidst the mangled and mutilated bodies. It fell to Edith to find Harold, by undoing the chain mail of the victims, in order to recognize certain identifying marks on the king’s body – probably tattoos.

The monks of Waltham Abbey had a tradition of Edith bringing Harold’s body to them for burial, soon after the battle. Although other sources suggest Harold was buried close to the battlefield, and without ceremony, it is hard not to hope that Edith was able to perform this last service for the king. However, any trace of Harold’s remains was swept away by Henry VIII’s Dissolution of the Monasteries, so the grave of England’s last Anglo-Saxon king is lost to history.

Harold’s mother, Gytha, eventually fled into exile on the Continent, taking Harold and Edith’s daughter, another Gytha, with her, possibly arranging her marriage to the prince of Smolensk and – later – Kiev. The sons of Edith and Harold fled to Ireland with all but one, living into the 1080s, though the dates of their eventual deaths remain uncertain. Gunnhild remained in her nunnery at Wilton until sometime before 1093, when she became the wife or concubine of Alan the Red, a Norman magnate. Whether or not she was kidnapped seems to be in question but when Alan died in 1093, instead of returning to the convent, Gunnhild became the mistress of Alan’s brother and heir, Alan Niger. Alan Rufus held vast lands in East Anglia – lands that had once belonged to Eadgifu the Fair and, if Eadgifu was Edith Swan-neck, it’s possible that Alan married Gunnhild to strengthen his claims to her mother’s lands.

Of Edith Swan-neck, there is no trace after Harold is interred at Waltham Abbey, she simply disappears from the pages of history…

For Matilda, on the other hand, the Battle of Hastings marked the start of another stage of her life and career as the wife of William, duke of Normandy and, now, King of England. Matilda of Flanders was probably born around 1032, the daughter of Baldwin V, count of Flanders, and his wife, Adela, a daughter of King Robert the Pious of France. The young duke, William of Normandy, was probably pushing his luck when he proposed a marriage between himself and young Matilda. Although he was a duke and Baldwin a mere count, there was the question of his illegitimacy and Normandy was hardly the most stable of regions; William had spent all of his adult life fighting to keep hold of it.

A later story tells of how Matilda refused to marry William, stating that, being granddaughter of a king, she was too high born to marry a bastard. William was said to be so incensed with this response that he straightaway rode to Flanders, accosted young Matilda in the street, pulling her from her horse by her braids, before hitting her and cutting her with his spurs; whereupon Matilda changed her mind and agreed to marry William. While amusing, it is highly likely that the story is an invention, and highly unlikely that Matilda was asked her opinion on the marriage. Getting to the altar was not an easy task, however, as the pope refused to allow the marriage, without giving his reasons. It is possible that the refusal was on the grounds of consanguinity, although it seems the only familial link is that William’s aunt married Matilda’s grandfather as his second wife (Matilda’s father, however, was the son of the count’s first wife, so there was no blood relationship). It seems more likely that the refusal was politically motivated, due to Count Baldwin’s support of the Lotharingian’s rebellion against Pope Leo IX’s sponsor, the Holy Roman Emperor.

William was not to be thwarted, however, and before 1053 he married, Matilda despite the papal interdict; they were eventually ordered to establish a monastery each in penance for the marrying without papal dispensation, but the marriage was allowed to stand. In penance Matilda established the Abbaye-aux-Dames, consecrated in 1066, while William founded the Abbay-aux-Hommes, both in Caen.

The marriage between Matilda and William proved to be a strong and trusting relationship; William is one of very few medieval kings believed to have been completely faithful to his wife, no rumours of extra-marital affairs have ever been uncovered. He trusted Matilda to act as regent in Normandy during his many absences on campaign or in England. Matilda supported her husband’s proposed invasion of England, promised a great ship for William’s personal used, it was called the Mora; the ship had a figurehead of a small boy, whose right hand pointed to England and left hand held a horn to his lips.

Matilda and William had a rather large family, with 4 boys and at least 4 daughters. Their eldest son, Robert Curthose, who inherited Normandy, was followed by Richard, who was killed during a hunting accident as a youth, William, known as Rufus who became King William II, and the future Henry I. Of the 4 or 5 daughters Adelida became a nun following a series of failed marriage plans, Cecilia was given to the convent of Ste Trinite as a child, Constance married Alain Fergant, duke of Brittany and Adela married Stephen of Blois; their son, another Stephen would succeed Henry I as King of England. There are suggestions of 2 further daughters, Matilda and Agatha, though evidence for their existence is highly limited.

Matilda was very close to her family, especially her eldest son, Robert, whose later antics were to cause problems between his parents. William and Robert, father and son, were often at loggerheads, with Robert in open rebellion against his father as a young adult. Matilda was constantly trying to play the peacemaker and was so upset by one quarrel that she was ‘choked by tears and could not speak’. Even during a period of exile imposed on Robert, Matilda still supported her son as best she can; she would send him vast amounts of silver and gold through a Breton messenger, Samson. On discovering Samson’s complicity William threatened to blind the messenger and it was only through Matilda’s intervention that the Breton escaped.

Where poor Edith Swan-neck lost almost everything at Hastings, Matilda’s star was in the ascendant, but the Conquest was not without problems and it was not until 1068 that William felt secure enough to bring his wife over to England. Matilda was crowned Queen of England in Winchester Cathedral at Pentecost in that year, although further unrest soon saw her returned to the relative safety of Normandy, where she was acting as regent for her absent husband. Matilda was one of the most active of medieval queens, standing in as an able administrator during her husband’s absences; hearing land pleas and corresponding with such as the pope, who is known to have asked her to use her influence over her husband, on occasion. She was also the driving force in holding together her family, keeping relations as cordial as possible, even with the rebellious Robert. And it may well be her own strength of character, as the centre of the family, that meant none of her sons would marry until after her death.

Matilda’s piety is renowned. Although founding the Abbaye-aux-Dames in Caen was a penance for her irregular marriage to William, her constant and repeated donations to religious houses demonstrate her dedication to her faith. Among her many donations; she gave the monks of Marmoutier a new refectory and a cope and to the monks of St Evroult she gave £100 for a refectory, a mark of gold, a chasuble decorated with gold and pearls, and a cope for the chanter. The nuns of her abbey at Ste Trinite, Caen, received a substantial bequest from Matilda’s will; as well as her regalia, they were given a chalice, a chasuble, a mantle of brocade, 2 golden chains with a cross, a chain decorated with emblems for hanging a lamp in front of the altar, several large candelabras, the draperies for her horse and all the vases ‘which she had not yet handed out during her life’.

Matilda and William’s relationship is one of the most successful of the medieval period. Said to be a happy and loving marriage, their trust in each other was demonstrable and it was remarked up on when William fell seriously ill during a stay at Cherbourg between 1063 and 1066, Matilda prayed for his recovery at the altar; the monks remarking on her informal appearance as the sign of her distress her husband illness was causing her. Matilda fell ill in the late summer of 1083 and died on 2nd November of the same year. She was buried at Ste Trinite, Caen, where the original tombstone, with the inscription carved round the edge, still survives. Following her death William cut a sad and lonely figure; becoming increasingly isolated he followed his wife to the grave 4 years later in 1087.

Select bibliography:

Oxforddnb.com; The Norman Conquest: William the Conquerors’ Subjugation of England by Teresa Cole; William the Conqueror: The Bastard of Normandy by Peter Rex; Kings, Queens, Bones and Bastards by David Hilliam; Britains’ Royal Families: The Complete Genealogy by Alison Weir; The Oxford Companion to British History edited by John Cannon; epistolae.ccnmtl.columbia.edu.

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‘Scotland’s Medieval Queens gives a thorough grounding in the history of the women who ruled Scotland at the side of its kings, often in the shadows, but just as interesting in their lives beyond the spotlight. It’s not a subject that has been widely covered, and Sharon is a pioneer in bringing that information into accessible history.’ Elizabeth Chadwick (New York Times bestselling author)

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Also by Sharon Bennett Connolly:

Podcast:

Have a listen to the A Slice of Medieval podcast, which I co-host with Historical fiction novelist Derek Birks. Derek and I welcome guests, such as Bernard Cornwell and Elizabeth Chadwick, and discuss a wide range of topics in medieval history, from significant events to the personalities involved.

Every episode is also now available on YouTube.

Don’t forget! Signed and dedicated copies of all my books are available through my online bookshop.

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10 Facts about Nicholaa de la Haye that you may not know…

22/07/202318/10/2025Sharon Bennett Connolly11 Comments

King John’s Right Hand Lady: The Story of Nicholaa de la Haye — *Tomb effigy of Nicholaa de la Haye, St Michael’s Church, Swaton*

As you may have noticed, Nicholaa de la Haye is a favourite of mine. She is the subject of my 5th book, King John’s Right Hand Lady: The Story of Nicholaa de la Haye. She was one of King John’s most stalwart supporters. She held Lincoln Castle against all-comers during the First Barons’ War which followed the sealing of Magna Carta in 1215. Her career is the more remarkable because Nicholaa was a woman in command of a castle in her own right. And she masterminded its defence against the might of the rebel barons and their French allies, even though the city of Lincoln was also against her.

So, who was she?

10 Things about Nicholaa de la Haye that you may not know…

1. Nicholaa had both English and Norman ancestry. Unlike many Normans, Nicholaa could trace her Lincolnshire roots, through her paternal grandmother, Muriel, to before the Norman Conquest; her grandmother’s grandfather was Colswein of Lincoln, an Englishman who had found favour with William the Conqueror in the years after the Conquest. Nicholaa’s father was Richard de la Haye, whose family originated from La Haye-du-Puits in Normandy, and was distantly related, through marriage, to William the Conqueror. Nicholaa’s mother was Matilda de Vernon, a niece of Baldwin de Redvers, Earl of Devon, the first magnate to rebel against King Stephen when he stole the throne from Empress Matilda.

2. Nicholaa was hereditary constable of Lincoln Castle. Just like her father and grandfather before her, Nicholaa held Lincoln Castle for the king. A charter dated between 1155 and 1158, issued by Henry II, confirmed the succession of Richard de la Haye to his father in all of his father’s lands in Lincolnshire, including the constableship of Lincoln Castle.

3. Nicholaa was the oldest of three sisters. Her sister Gila (or Julia) married Richard du Hommet, the grandson and son of successive constables of Normandy. In 1191 a charter was issued to Gila and Richard, known as the charte aux lacs d’amour (the charter of the laces of love), which had laces attached to the seal on which was written a love poem: ‘I am a pledge of love. Do not give me away. May whoever separates our love receive death’. Nicholaa’s other sister, Isabel de la Haye married William de Rollos, who was probably from Bourne, in Lincolnshire. The Rollos family returned to Normandy during the reign of King John.

4. Nicholaa’s first husband was William Fitz Erneis, who may have been a younger son of Robert Fitz Erneis, a minor Lincolnshire lord. Nicholaa and William had one surviving child, a daughter named Matilda, before William died in 1178. Nicholaa would later pay a fine of 300 marks to King Richard I so that she could marry her daughter to whomever she wished except, of course, to an enemy of the king. Nicholaa was still accounting for this debt until 1212. In 1201, she still owed 40 marks and a palfrey (a horse).

5. Before 1185, Nicholaa had remarried, this time to Gerard de Camville, son of Richard de Camville, lord of Middleton Stoney in Oxfordshire. A family with an impressive record of royal service, Richard had died in Italy in 1176 while escorting the king’s daughter, Joanna, to her wedding with King William of Sicily. Gerard’s half-brother, also called Richard, accompanied Richard the Lionheart on Crusade; this Richard de Camville was made governor of Cyprus before dying at Acre in 1191. Gerard himself served the kings Henry II, Richard the Lionheart and John. He was Constable of Lincoln Castle by right of his wife and sheriff of Lincolnshire on two occasions.

6. Nicholaa first comes to the attention of the chroniclers in 1191, when Prince John led the opposition to, William Longchamp, the man left in charge of England during Richard the Lionheart’s absence on crusade. Longchamp wanted Lincoln Castle for one of his friends and determined to take it. Gerard sought the help of Prince John swearing fealty to him at Nottingham, leaving to Nicholaa to hold the castle. William Longchamp hired a force of mercenaries and laid siege to the castle in Gerard’s absence. The formidable Nicholaa refused to yield, holding out for 40 days before Longchamp gave up and went home. Amusingly, Richard of Devizes said of this defence of Lincoln Castle, that she did it ‘without thinking of anything womanly’.

7. By the time the king arrived home in 1194, John had fled to France, leaving his supporters to face the music. On 31 March 1194, on the first day of his council at Nottingham, King Richard dispossessed Gerard de Camville of the castle and shrievalty of Lincoln. And on 2 April, Gerard was charged with harbouring outlaws (wonder if they mean Robin Hood?), treason for failing to answer the king’s justices’ summons over the harbouring of the said outlaws, and for taking up arms and aiding John in taking the castles of Tickhill and Nottingham. The outcome of the proceedings is not recorded, but given that Gerard was fined 2,000 marks to recover the king’s good will and his lands, we can assume that the judges did not find in his favour.

8. When Richard the Lionheart died on 6 April 1199 and was succeeded by his brother, John, Nicholaa and Gerard de Camville were restored to favour and to Lincoln Castle. Gerard was also appointed sheriff of Lincolnshire and served in that office for the next six years, becoming ‘a greater man than ever.’ In November 1200, Nicholaa and Gerard welcomed the kings of England and Scotland to Lincoln, where King William the Lion paid homage to King John outside the city walls.

9. Gerard died in December 1214, leaving Nicholaa in command of Lincoln Castle. In 1216, she was besieged by a force of rebel barons who had taken up arms against King John in the aftermath of the issuing of Magna Carta. Nicholaa paid them off – they stopped attacking the castle but remained in the city. In the same year, Nicholaa met King John at the East Gate of Lincoln Castle, with the castle’s keys in her hand, offering to resign her position as constable, citing her weariness and great age (she was in her 60s). John refused, telling her to remain in post until he ordered otherwise.

10. On 18 October 1216, at Newark Castle, in one of his final acts and just hours before his death, King John appointed Nicholaa de la Haye as sheriff of Lincolnshire. She was the first woman in English history to be appointed to the office of sheriff in her own right – but she would not be the last.

11. (Oops!) For 7 months, from October 1216 to May 1217, Lincoln Castle was once again under siege by a force of English rebel barons and their French allies under the command of the Comte de Perche. Nicholaa directed the castle’s defence until royalist forces could come to her aid. On 20 May 1217, William Marshal and the royalist army came to her relief, fighting the Battle of Lincoln through the city’s streets.

12. (double oops!) There was a rise in the number of baby girls named Nicholaa, in Lincolnshire, in the 13th century.

13. Have a listen to the A Slice of Medieval episode dedicated to Nicholaa de la Haye, where Derek Birks and I discuss the ins and outs – and highs and lows – of Nicholaa’s career.

Sources:

Richard of Devizes, The Chronicle of Richard of Devizes; Roger of Howden (Hoveden), The Annals of Roger of Howden; The Plantagenet Chronicles edited by Elizabeth Hallam; Brassey’s Battles by John Laffin; 1215 The Year of Magna Carta by Danny Danziger & John Gillingham; The Life and times of King John by Maurice Ashley; The Plantagenets, the Kings Who Made England by Dan Jones; England Under the Norman and Angevin Kings by Robert Bartlett; lincolnshirelife.co.uk; catherinehanley.co.uk; magnacarta800th.com; lothene.org; lincolncastle.com; The Sheriff: The Man and His Office by Irene Gladwin; Louise Wilkinson, Women in Thirteenth Century Lincolnshire; Richard Huscraft, Tales from the Long Twelfth Century; J.W.F. Hill, Medieval Lincoln; swaton.org.uk; oxforddnb.com; Ingulph, Ingulph’ Chronicle of the Abbey of Croyland; Stephen Church, King John: England, Magna Carta and the Making of a Tyrant; Marc Morris, King John; Pipe Rolls; Red Book of the Exchequer

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1191: Nicholaa de la Haye’s First Siege

03/06/202318/11/2025Sharon Bennett Connolly7 Comments

Nicholaa de la Haye first came to the attention of the chroniclers in the year 1191. She and her husband, Gerard de Camville, were in command of Lincoln Castle. Gerard was a talented administrator and was sheriff of Lincoln in 1189 and 1190 and again from 1199 to 1205. He was also hereditary constable of Lincoln Castle by right of his wife, Nicholaa. Although he had sworn allegiance to King Richard on his accession, in 1191 Gerard paid homage to the king’s brother John, then count of Mortain, for Lincoln Castle. This meant that Gerard and Nicholaa would be drawn into John’s dispute with King Richard’s chancellor, William Longchamp.

Before King Richard’s departure on crusade, the king had extracted a promise from John and their illegitimate half-brother Geoffrey, Archbishop of York, that neither would set foot in England for three years. Although it seems highly unlikely that Longchamp released John from his oath, the prince was back in England by 1191, possibly on the insistence of his mother, Eleanor of Aquitaine, who was watching over her favourite son’s domains while he was away on crusade.

Longchamp’s heavy-handed administration of the country caused much dissent among the barons and John chose to champion their cause. The catalyst for John’s armed opposition to William Longchamp may well have been the king’s recognition of his nephew, Arthur, Duke of Brittany still only a child of five years, as his heir; the only person in England who was meant to know was William Longchamp. However, it seems that Longchamp may have sounded out others to measure the level of support for Arthur. According to the chronicler William of Newburgh, he passed on the information to the king of Scots, at least, and possibly some of the Welsh princes. In early 1191 the news was widely leaked, and John came to hear of it.

According to William of Newburgh, John had expected to become the successor to the kingdom, should the king not survive the cursade. Indeed, Richard’s advancement of his brother since his accession, in giving John lands in England and arranging his marriage to an English bride, all seemed to support this expectation. Richard’s actions in naming Arthur his heir, and Longchamp’s support for this, threatened to undermine John’s own claims and rights. Having heard the not-so-secret secret, John started building up his own powerbase. According to Richard of Devizes, John, ‘when he knew for certain that his brother had turned his back on England, presently perambulated the kingdom in a more popular manner, nor did he forbid his followers calling him the king’s heir.’

Tensions were rising. Richard of Devizes reported that, as a result of the king’s departure on crusade, the nobles were ‘all stirred up in arms, castles closed, cities fortified and entrenchments thrown up.’

John sent out letters, in secret, eliciting the support of the nobles against the justiciar. The king himself was so concerned over events in England that, in the spring, he had released Walter de Coutances, archbishop of Rouen, from his crusading vow and sent him back to sort things out. The king must have had concerns about the efficacy of William Longchamp’s rule, as he also sent a letter, to William Marshal, Hugh Bardolf, Geoffrey Fitz Peter and William Brewer, in which he ordered ‘If our chancellor does not act faithfully according to the advice of yourselves and others to whom we have committed the care of our kingdom, we order you to carry out your own dispositions in all the affairs of our kingdom, in castles and escheats, without any dispute.’

Walter de Coutances landed at Shoreham on 27 June, 1191. The situation had already escalated, however.

In 1190, on returning from his investigation into the massacre of the Jews of York, Longchamp stopped at Lincoln. He accused Gerard de Camville of harbouring thieves and robbers who preyed on the merchants attending the fair at Stamford. Longchamp had demanded that Gerard de Camville, described as ‘an enemy of the chancellor’ by the Crowland Chronicle, relinquish his custody of Lincoln Castle and swear allegiance to him, personally, as justiciar. Camville refused and instead ‘had done homage to Earl John, the king’s brother, for the castle of Lincoln, the custody whereof is known to belong to the inheritance of Nicholaa, the wife of the same Gerard, but under the king.’¹

In acting against Gerard de Camville, Longchamp had forced him into John’s arms. On learning of Gerard’s defiance, Longchamp sent overseas for foreign mercenaries and set out north with the troops he had under his command, attacking Wigmore along the way and forcing Roger de Mortimer, impeached for conspiracy against the king, to surrender his castles and abjure England for three years. As Gerard de Camville joined John at Nottingham, Longchamp continued to Lincoln where he besieged the castle as ‘Gerard was with the earl; and his wife Nicholaa proposing to herself nothing effeminate defended the castle like a man. The chancellor was wholly busied about Lincoln.’²

The formidable Nicholaa refused to yield, holding out for forty days before Longchamp raised the siege, having heard that Tickhill and Nottingham had fallen to John.

Gerard’s decision to leave Nicholaa in command of the castle, even though Longchamp was heading her way with an army, may have been to emphasise the standing of the de la Haye family in Lincolnshire, and its connections to the castle itself. He believed Lincoln would rally to her side. That he did not appoint a male deputy to take charge is testament to his trust in Nicholaa and her abilities. She had, after all, grown up with the castle as her birth right and would have been familiar with every part of its defences, its strengths and weaknesses. Although she would not have been able to fight, with sword and shield, she could direct the defence, placing soldiers where they were most needed, organising supplies of weapons and ammunition, and ensuring the stores of food and drink were suitably rationed.

Nicholaa was approaching forty when William Longchamp besieged her. She was no young, inexperienced girl, and she would have been used to command – and to her orders being obeyed. She was also a mother, of a daughter in her teens and at least two young boys, but it is unlikely that the children were in the castle; it is more likely they were being raised on her manor at Brattleby, just to the north of Lincoln. The castle itself may appear difficult to defend. The curtain wall was a third of a mile in length, but there was a steep drop on the south side. There were two main entrances, the East and West gates, and a number of postern gates. These had to be guarded closely. Similarly, the castle would also have been difficult to attack, and besiegers would have concentrated their energies on the main and postern gates. There is no record of Longchamp bringing up siege machinery, so it would have been a case of watching and waiting and hoping to starve out the castle occupants.

Nicholaa held out for forty days, as demonstrated by the Pipe Roll of 1191, which showed that mercenaries were employed for that length of time on the siege of Lincoln Castle. All the same, it must have been a relief for Nicholaa, when William Longchamp gave up the siege and marched his soldiers away.

According to Roger of Howden, the chancellor besieged Lincoln Castle, ‘having expelled Gerard de Camville from the keepership and the office of sheriff of Lincoln; which former office the chancellor gave to William de Stuteville and made him sheriff as well.’ John, in turn moved north in support of Gerard, quickly taking the ill-prepared royal castles of Tickhill (in Yorkshire) and Nottingham and demanding that Gerard de Camville be reinstated, saying that he ‘would visit him [the chancellor] with a rod of iron’.³

John admonished Longchamp, saying ‘it was not proper to take from the loyal men of the kingdom, well known and free, their charges and commit them to strangers and men unknown; that it was a mark of his folly that he had intrusted the king’s castles to such, because they would expose them to adventurers; that if it should go with every barbarian with that facility, that even the castles should be ready at all times for their reception, that he would no longer bear in silence the destruction of his brother’s kingdom and affairs.’⁴

In the meantime, Walter de Coutances, Archbishop of Rouen but an Englishman by birth, had landed in England and hastened north to act as intermediary between the two warring factions. At some point in the escalating tensions, as Roger of Howden reports, William Longchamp, as papal legate, also issued a sentence of excommunication on John’s supporters. The list included John’s leading supporters, as well as Walter de Coutances, archbishop of Rouen, and Gerard de Camville.

Despite the blatant mistrust on both sides, settlement was reached, with the aid of bishops trusted by both men, and of barons who ‘swore that they would provide satisfaction between the earl and the chancellor concerning their quarrels and questions to the honour of both parties and the peace of the kingdom.’⁵ Agreement, mostly favourable to John, was reached whereby John would relinquish the castles he had taken, but then Longchamp would give Tickhill into the custody of Reginald de Wasseville and Nottingham to William de Wenn, both men of John’s affinity who each agreed to give up a hostage to the chancellor. John also promised not to harbour outlaws in his lands. Longchamp also agreed to drop his support for Arthur as Richard’s heir, to support John’s claim and ‘if the king should die…should promote him to the kingdom with all his power.’⁶

Especial mention was made of Gerard de Camville, who was reinstated to Lincoln Castle, and ‘shall be reinstated in the office of sheriff of Lincoln, and on the same day a proper day shall be appointed for him to make his appearance in the court of our lord the king, there to abide his trial; and if in the judgement of the court of our lord the king proof can be given that he aught to lose that office as also the keepership of the castle of Lincoln, then he is to lose the same; but, if not, he is to keep it, unless in the meantime an agreement can be come to relative thereto on some other terms. And the lord John is not to support him against the decision of our lord the king, nor is he to harbour such outlaws or enemies to our lord the king, as shall be named to him, nor allow them to be harboured on his lands.’⁷

So, Gerard and Nicholaa would be safe in their castle at Lincoln, at least for now. What may happen on the king’s return was still to be determined. They also benefited from John’s largesse; Gerard was appointed keeper of the honour of Wallingford.

In the meantime, Nicholaa and Gerard could get on with the business of managing Lincoln Castle and the county of Lincolnshire.

For now…

Notes:

Richard of Devizes, The Chronicle of Richard of Devizes, edited and translated by J. A. Giles
ibid
Roger of Howden (Hoveden), The Annals of Roger of Howden, translated by Henry T. Riley
Devizes, The Chronicle of Richard of Devizes
ibid
ibid
Howden, The Annals of Roger of Howden

Sources:

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Christine de Pisan, Literary Trailblazer

25/02/202320/01/2025Sharon Bennett Connolly2 Comments

Christine de Pisan (sitting) lecturing to a group of men

Christine de Pisan was the first woman in history to make a living from writing.

Christine de Pisan was born around 1364 in Venice, Italy; the family was from the village of Pizzano, just outside Bologna. Her father, Tommaso di Benvenuto da Pizzano, was a graduate of the University of Bologna and was a lecturer in astrology at the university, but moved to Venice in 1357. In the late 1360s Tommaso was invited to join both the Hungarian and the French royal courts. He chose France and moved his family, including Christine and her two brothers Paolo and Aghinolfo, to Paris, in December 1368, becoming royal physician and astrologer to Charles V. Christine’s father paid particular attention to his daughter’s education, allowing her to be taught to the same standards as a boy of her age, although her mother disapproved. She was tutored in history, literature, religion and the classical languages.¹

In 1380, at the age of fifteen, Tommaso arranged a marriage for Christine with Etienne de Castel. Ten years older than Christine, Etienne was a graduate of the University of Paris and became a royal secretary in the year they married. The position of royal secretary was a lifetime appointment and only open to the intellectual elite, as they were often involved in diplomatic events. In the same year, on 16 September, Tommaso’s patron Charles V died, leaving the family in a precarious financial position. Christine was further challenged by a series of tragedies toward the end of the decade. Her father, Tommaso, died in 1387, leaving Christine’s mother and niece in his daughter’s care. Around the same time, Christine lost a child, his name unknown; although two children, Marie and Jean, survived infancy. In 1390 her husband Etienne passed away at Beauvais and Christine was left with the responsibility of providing for herself and her young children, as well as her mother and niece.

Christine explained herself, in her book Mutation of Fortune, how she had to take on the mantle of the man of the house,

Let me summarise this moment,

Just who I am, what all this meant.

How I, a woman, became a man by a flick of Fortune’s hand

How she changed my body’s form

To the perfect masculine norm.²

Illumination from *The Book of the City of Ladies*

Etienne had taken care of all the family’s financial dealings and it was a steep learning curve for Christine to learn to manage the accounts and pay off the family’s debts. Shortly after Etienne’s death, Christine found work as a copyist for a number of Parisian manuscript workshops. Eventually, around 1399, she began to compose her own prose and poetry as a means of supporting her family, and it was the grief of losing Etienne that informed Christine’s early works of poetry. Initially, she would send her works to members of the court, who sent her money in gratitude, with patrons eventually including Louis, Duke of Orléans, the Duke de Berry and France’s queen, Isabella of Bavaria. And as Christine’s fame spread beyond France, she could also count Philip II the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, and Thomas Montagu, 4th Earl of Salisbury, among her patrons. Writing in ballads and lais (poetry put to music), Christine could express her love and grief for Etienne and the sense of loss and loneliness she now felt,

Like the mourning dove I’m now alone,

And like a shepherdless sheep gone astray,

For death has long ago taken away

My loved one whom I constantly mourn…³

Christine de Pisan’s poems, amounted to ten volumes of verses, including L’Épistre au Dieu d’Amours (Letter to the God of Loves) which was published in 1399. In the early 1400s she also published Letters on the Debate of the Romance of the Rose, a response to Jean de Meun’s Le Roman de la Rose (The Romance of the Rose) attacking the traditional view of women causing the sins of men. Christine is, above all, remembered and revered for her work, Le Livre de la Cité des Dames (The Book of the City of Ladies), published in 1405. Well received in France, even in her own lifetime, it was later translated into Flemish and English. The book tells of the lives of past and present heroines, including pagan, Hebrew and Christian ladies who were renowned for being examples of exemplary womankind, famed for their chastity, loyalty and devotion. It included the lives of female saints who remained steadfast in their devotion to God in the face of martyrdom. City of Ladies was Christine’s response to the misogynistic portrait of womankind that was present in many works of the era, in which women were blamed for the misery in which men found themselves. The book suggests that women were capable of being anything, from warriors to artists and teachers, but stops short of suggesting that her contemporaries should pursue such careers.⁴

A page from Christine de Pisan’s *The Book of the Three Virtues*

In the same year, 1405, the sequel to City of Ladies, entitled Le Livre des Trois Vertus (The Book of the Three Virtues) was also published. This text was more of an instructional treatise, showing women how they should behave and how they could make a significant contribution to society from their various social spheres. In it Christine recommends that women should be modest and obedient as virgins, tolerant and humble as wives, and courageous and dignified as widows. It is possible that Le Livre des Trois Vertus was written as a book of instruction for eleven-year-old Marguerite de Nevers, the daughter of the Duke of Burgundy and bride of Louis of Guyenne, the heir to the throne of France. Although the book appears to be a contradiction of Christine’s own life, when she was making a name for herself as a writer to support her family, it has to be remembered that Christine was living in a male-dominated era, rather than the 21st century. She has often been advanced as the first feminist, but while she wanted to correct the negative view of women and improve the conditions of women, advancing arguments for better education and a role beyond the home, she was not intending to be revolutionary.

Christine’s writing proved so successful that she managed to pull herself out of debt and make a living at it; she was the first woman to ever become a professional writer. Her ability to write for varied audiences meant her work was often sought after. She eventually started receiving commissions to write specific items for her noble patrons, including political and moral works. A biography of Charles V, Le Livre des Fais et des Bonnes Meurs du Sage Roy Charles V (The Book of the Deeds and Good Character of the Wise King Charles V), which Christine wrote in 1404, was commissioned by the late king’s brother Philip, Duke of Burgundy. Her other works included The Book of the Body Politic and Feats of Arms and Chivalry. The latter was published anonymously as Christine doubted it would be taking seriously if a woman was identified as the author.

As Charles VI increasingly slipped into bouts of madness in the early 15th century, and France found itself on the verge of civil war, Christine would write about peace and the necessity of stable government. However, as France was dragged back into the Hundred Years War against England, she became increasingly marginalised. She retired from public life and retreated to the convent at Poissy, where her daughter was a nun. Her last work, in 1429, Le Ditié de Jehanne d’Arc (The Poem of Joan of Arc), extolled the virtues of Joan, the Maid of Orléans, as valiant and brave, chaste and pure; it was the only work written about Joan during her own lifetime. Writing at the height of Joan’s success. It portrayed the Maid, the leader of the revival of French fortunes in the war against the English, as the embodiment of the women Christine had written of in City of Ladies. However, Christine does not appear to have lived long enough to see the final chapters, and the tragedy, of Joan’s life – her imprisonment and death at the hands of the English. Christine probably died in 1430, the year before Joan.

Christine de Pisan presents her book to Isabeau of Bavaria, Queen of France

Christine de Pisan was one of the most remarkable women of her age. In her world, women were denied their own voice and independence. There were strictures placed on every aspect of their lives, by tradition and society. And yet she circumvented these strictures, not only by writing, but by writing to make a living, and by giving a voice and identity to women everywhere. She was not a feminist; the notion of feminism simply did not exist. However, she was a forerunner for the feminist movement, and a sign of the independence that women would eventually achieve.

The poet, political and social observer Christine de Pisan was the culmination of a series of remarkable female trailblazers, including Hildegard of Bingen, Heloise (of Heloise and Abelard fame) and Marie de France. She proved that women were just as capable as men of making successful careers as writers.

Notes:

1. The Life and Triumphs of Christine de Pizan (article), faculty.msmc.edu; 2. The Writing of Christine de Pizan translated by Nadia Margolis, edited by Charity Cannon Willard; 3. ibid; 4. The Book of the City of Ladies by Christine de Pisan, translated by Rosalind Brown-Grant

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Eight Interesting Discoveries on writing 11th century non-fiction

31/12/202210/09/2024Sharon Bennett Connolly4 Comments

Following on from my 10 Facts About Women and Magna Carta, I thought I would revisit the Norman Conquest and started thinking about I found most interesting when writing about 1066 and the years either side. And here’s what I discovered:

1. Not all primary sources are contemporary.

Let me explain. Of course, all sources written in the 11th century are primary sources, but you do find people quoting sources as primary sources – only to discover that they were written 100 or even 200 years after the events.

One such legend, appearing two centuries after the events, suggested that Emma of Normandy’s relationship with her good friend, Bishop Stigand, was far more than that of her advisor and that he was, in fact, her lover – although the legend did get its bishops mixed up and named Ælfwine, rather than Stigand, as Emma’s lover. The story continues that Emma chose to prove her innocence in a trial by ordeal, and that she walked barefoot over white-hot ploughshares. Even though the tale varies depending on the source, the result is the same; when she completed the ordeal unharmed, and thus proven guiltless, she was reconciled with her contrite son, Edward.

However, there is no 11th century source for this event and it seems to have been created to explain Emma’s estrangement from her son, Edward the Confessor.

2. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle is the most famous source of 11th century news.

The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle gives wonderful snippets of information about life in Anglo-Saxon England – and the weather! If you have ever wondered where the English get their obsession with the weather, read the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. It is also very dramatic.

For example, the year 1005 starts with; ‘Here in this year there was the great famine throughout the English race, such as no-one ever remembered on so grim before…’

1032 relates; ‘Here in this year appeared that wild-fire such as no man remembered before, and also it did damage everywhere in many places.’

And 1039 opens with ‘Here came the great gale…’

In 1053 we read, ‘Here [1052] was the great wind on the eve of the Feast of St Thomas, and the great wind was also all midwinter…’

And, of course, in 1066 we read about the appearance of Halley’s Comet; ‘Then throughout all England, a sign such as man ever saw before was seen in the heavens. Some me declared that it was the star comet, which some men called the ‘haired’ star; and it appeared first on the eve of the Great Litany, 24 April, and shone thus all the week….’

3. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle is a fabulous source of news about church leaders.

Don’t get me wrong, the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle is invaluable to anyone studying the history of Anglo-Saxon Britain, but you can tell it was written by monks. There are some years where you learn little more than which church leader died, and who replaced him.

For example, the entry for 1023 from the E chronicle; ‘Here Bishop Wulfstan passed away, and Ælfric succeeded…’

And in 1032; ‘In the same year Ælfsige, bishop in Winchester, passed away, and Ælfwine, the king’s priest, succeeded to it.’

The only entry in the E Chronicle in 1033 was; ‘Here in this year Merehwit, bishop in Somerset, passed away, and he is buried in Glastonbury.’

And again in 1034; ‘Here Bishop Æthelric passed away.’

4. Not all inheritance was based on primogeniture.

Primogeniture, where the eldest son inherited from his father, was not unusual in 11th century England; when Earl Godwin of Wessex died, his eldest surviving son, Harold, succeeded him. However, it was not yet established as the definitive rule of inheritance of later centuries. When Siward, Earl of Northumbria, died in 1055 his heir, Waltheof, was still a child and too young to hold such a formidable position on the borders of Scotland. The earldom was given to Tostig Godwinson, the favourite brother of Edward the Confessor’s queen, Edith. Though he didn’t do a great job with it…

And in the opening days of 1066, when Edward the Confessor died, the ætheling, Edgar was only a teenager, and so was passed over as king for the more mature and militarily experienced Harold Godwinson, Earl of Wessex, who became King Harold II.

5. Travel to distant places was not uncommon for the nobility.

At different times in the 11th century, both King Cnut and Tostig Godwinson are known to have travelled to Rome; indeed, during his trip to Rome in 1027, Cnut was present at the coronation of Holy Roman Emperor, Conrad II and arranged for the marriage of his daughter by Emma of Normandy, Gunhilda, to Conrad’s son, the future King Henry III of Germany.

As for Tostig, travelling to Rome was not without its dangers, and shortly after leaving the city, his travelling party was caught up in a local dispute between the papacy and the Tuscan nobility; they were attacked. Tostig was able to escape by the ruse of one of his own thegns, a man named Gospatric, who pretended to be the earl.

Tostig and Harold’s brother, Swegn Godwinson, who had murdered his own cousin, even went on pilgrimage to Jerusalem – barefoot – he died on the journey home.

And when I started writing Silk and the Sword: The Women of the Norman Conquest I discovered that there are several links to the story of 1066 with the Russian principality of Kyiv. The baby sons of England’s short-lived king, Edmund II Ironside, who reigned and died in 1016, were given sanctuary and protection in Kyiv, saving them from the clutches of Edmund’s successor, King Cnut. The first wife of Harald Hardrada, the third contender for the English throne in 1066, Elisiv, was a Kyivan princess. And after the Conquest, Harold II Godwinson’s own daughter by Edith Swanneck, Gytha, would make her life in Kyiv as the wife of Vladimir II Monomakh and as the mother of Mstislav the Great, the last ruler of a united Kyivan Rus. Vladimir was the nephew of Harald Hardrada’s first wife, the Kyivan princess, Elisiv.

6. Having 2 wives at the same time was not THAT unusual.

In the story of 1066 there were not one BUT three men who had two wives simultaneously.

Harold Godwinson is known for having been in a relationship with the famous Edith Swanneck for 20 years before becoming King, and then marrying Ealdgyth of Mercia without divorcing Edith. Edith is often referred to as Harold’s concubine, but most historians agree that she was his ‘hand-fast’ wife and had undergone a Danish – rather than Christian – style of wedding with Harold. Edith was no ignorant peasant, she was a wealthy woman in her own right and it is highly doubtful she would have accepted being Harold’s mistress, and raising his children, without some kind of marital protection.

Harald Hardrada also married a second ‘wife’, whilst still being married to Elisiv. Elisiv had given the Norwegian king two daughters, but his second wife, Thora, gave him two sons, Magnus and Olaf, who each, in turn, succeeded their father as King of Norway.

King Cnut was the first to take two wives; he had two sons by Ælfgifu of Northampton before marrying Emma of Normandy and producing a second family. The chronicles, however, claim that Ælfgifu’s sons were not the children of Cnut, with John (also known as Florence) of Worcester saying, ‘Ælfgiva desired to have a son by the king, but as she could not, she caused the new-born child of a certain priest to be brought to her, and made the king fully believe that she had just borne him a son’. And the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle claimed ‘[King] Harold [I Harefoot] also said that he was the son of king Canute and Ælfgiva of Northampton, although that is far from certain; for some say that he was the son of a cobbler, and that Ælfgiva had acted with regard to him as she had done in the case of Swein: for our part, as there are doubts on the subject, we cannot settle with any certainty the parentage of either.’

7. There were some incredible, strong women in the 11th century.

The story of the Norman Conquest invariably revolves around the men involved, Edward the Confessor, Harold II, William the Conqueror, Harald Hardrada, and so on. However, there were some amazing women whose strength and perseverance helped to steer and shape the events of the era.

There were, of course, the queens, Emma of Normandy, Edith of Wessex and Matilda of Flanders, who supported their husbands and helped to shape and – even – preserve history, with Emma and Edith both commissioning books to tell the stories of their times and Matilda being the image of queenship that all future queens of England modelled themselves on.

There was also the notorious Lady Godiva, who was probably a lot less scandalous than the legend, of her riding naked through Coventry, leads us to believe. And the incredible Gytha of Wessex, a woman whose story is entwined with every aspect of the period. From the reign of Cnut to that of William the Conqueror, Gytha and her family were involved in so many aspects of the 11th century, from the rise of her sons, through the Battle of Hastings itself, to the English resistance in the years immediately following the Conquest. Gytha was not one to give up easily, despite the horrendous losses her family suffered (three of her sons died in one single day at Hastings), she encouraged her grandsons to lead the opposition against the Conqueror in the west, but her eventual failure saw her seek shelter in Flanders, where she disappears from the pages of history.

8. There is still so much we don’t know!

*Ӕlfgyva, the mysterious woman in the Bayeux Tapestry*

What you discover when researching the 11th century and the Norman Conquest is that there are gaps in our knowledge. For instance, we do not know why Harold was travelling to Europe in 1064, when he was shipwrecked and became a guest at the court of William, Duke of Normandy (the future William the Conqueror). The Bayeux Tapestry depicts Harold swearing an oath during his stay there. Was Harold promising to support William’s claim to England when Edward the Confessor died?

The Bayeux Tapestry has another tantalising mystery. That of Ӕlfgyva. Ӕlfgyva is depicted in a doorway with a priest touching her cheek. Whether the touch is in admonishment or blessing is open to interpretation. Above her head, written in Latin, is the incomplete phrase ‘Here a certain cleric and Ӕlfgyva’. But who was the mysterious Ӕlfgyva? Will we ever know?

Historical Writers Forum hosted a fabulous debate on ‘Ӕlfgyva’: The Mysterious Woman in the Bayeux Tapestry, which is available on YouTube. Hosted by Samantha Wilcoxson, it features myself, Pat Bracewell, Carol McGrath and Paula Lofting discussing the possible cadidates of Ӕlfgyva’s identity.

A version of this article was first published on Carol McGrath’s website in December 2018

Images:

Sources:

A Historical Document Pierre Bouet and François Neveux, bayeuxmuseum.com/en/un_document_historique_en; The Mystery Lady of the Bayeux Tapestry (article) by Paula Lofting, annabelfrage.qordpress.com; Ӕlfgyva: The Mysterious lady of the Bayeux Tapestry (article) by M.W. Campbell, Annales de Normandie; The Bayeux Tapestry, the Life Story of a Masterpiece by Carola Hicks; Æthelred II [Ethelred; known as Ethelred the Unready] (c. 966×8-1016) (article) by Simon Keynes, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, oxforddnb.com; Britain’s Royal Families; the Complete Genealogy by Alison Weir; Queen Emma and the Vikings: The Woman Who Shaped the Events of 1066 by Harriet O’Brien; The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle translated by James Ingram; On the Spindle Side: the Kinswomen of Earl Godwin of Wessex by Ann Williams; Swein [Sweyn], earl by Ann Williams, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, oxforddnb.com, 23 September 2004; Ӕlfgifu [Ӕlfgifu of Northampton (fl. 1006-1036) (article) by Pauline Stafford, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, oxforddnb.com; The Chronicle of John of Worcester, translated and edited by Thomas Forester, A.M; The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles edited and translated by Michael Swanton.

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Women of the Anarchy demonstrates how Empress Matilda and Matilda of Boulogne, unable to wield a sword themselves, were prime movers in this time of conflict and lawlessness. It shows how their strengths, weaknesses, and personal ambitions swung the fortunes of war one way – and then the other. Available from Bookshop.org, Amberley Publishing and Amazon UK. King John’s Right-Hand Lady: The Story of Nicholaa de la Haye is the story of a truly remarkable lady, the hereditary constable of Lincoln Castle and the first woman in England to be appointed sheriff in her own right. Available from all good bookshops Pen & Sword Books, bookshop.org and Amazon. Defenders of the Norman Crown: The Rise and Fall of the Warenne Earls of Surrey tells the fascinating story of the Warenne dynasty, from its origins in Normandy, through the Conquest, Magna Carta, the wars and marriages that led to its ultimate demise in the reign of Edward III. Available from Pen & Sword Books, Amazon in the UK and US, and Bookshop.org.

Ladies of Magna Carta: Women of Influence in Thirteenth Century England looks into the relationships of the various noble families of the 13th century, and how they were affected by the Barons’ Wars, Magna Carta and its aftermath; the bonds that were formed and those that were broken. It is now available in paperback and hardback from Pen & Sword, Amazon, and Bookshop.org. Heroines of the Medieval World tells the stories of some of the most remarkable women from Medieval history, from Eleanor of Aquitaine to Julian of Norwich. Available now from Amberley Publishing and Amazon, and Bookshop.org. Silk and the Sword: The Women of the Norman Conquest traces the fortunes of the women who had a significant role to play in the momentous events of 1066. Available now from Amazon, Amberley Publishing, and Bookshop.org.

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William and Gundrada de Warenne and the Foundation of a Dynasty

17/12/202216/10/2025Sharon Bennett Connolly9 Comments

William de Warenne, first earl of Surrey, was a younger son of Rodulf de Warenne and his wife Beatrix. It is possible that Beatrix was a niece of Duchess Gunnor of Normandy, making young William a cousin of William the Bastard, Duke of Normandy. The family name is probably derived from the hamlet of Varenne, part of the Warenne lands in the modern French department of Seine-Inférieure, Normandy. William’s older brother, Rodulf or Ralph, would inherit the greater part of the Warenne family estates in Normandy.

William’s date of birth is unrecorded; a younger son of the minor nobility does not tend to get a mention until he does something remarkable or becomes someone notable. Although still young William was considered a capable and experienced enough soldier to be given joint command of a Norman army, by the mid-1050s. His first recorded military action is in the 1054 campaign against the French. He was one of the commanders who fought against the King of France’s brother, Count Odo, at the Battle of Mortemer.

De Warenne was rewarded with some of the lands of his kinsman, Roger (I) de Mortemer, who had fought for the French. William managed to retain some of these lands even after Mortemer was restored to favour, including the castles of Mortemer and Bellencombre. Bellencrombe would become the capital of the de Warenne estates in Normandy. De Warenne had also received some of the confiscated lands of William, count of Arques in 1053. Duke William’s confidence in de Warenne is demonstrated in the fact he was one of the barons consulted during the planning of the invasion of England in 1066.

In fact, William de Warenne is one of only a handful of Norman barons who can be positively identified as having fought at the Battle of Hastings on 14th October, 1066. De Warenne was rewarded with vast swathes of land throughout the country. According to the Domesday survey his lands extended over 13 counties: stretching from Conisbrough in Yorkshire to Lewes in Sussex. His territories were acquired over the course of the reign of William I and elevated him the highest rank of magnates. By 1086 his riches were only surpassed by the king’s half-brothers and his own kinsman, Roger de Montgomery. He still ranks in the Top 20 of the richest people in the world – ever!

Throughout his career, William de Warenne acquired lands in numerous counties, sometimes by nefarious means. Much of the property, such as Conisbrough, had formerly belonged to the late king, Harold. In Norfolk he is said to have asserted lordship over freemen not necessarily assigned to him. He had disputes with neighbouring landowners in Conisbrough, over which properties were sokelands and he is said to have stolen lands from the bishop of Durham and the abbot of Ely. Some acquisitions were obtained peacefully, such as the manor of Whitchurch in Shropshire, which was left to him by his kinsman Roger de Montgomery. William was an energetic and attentive landowner and improved the economy of most of his estates; more than tripling his sheep flock at Castle Acre and doubling the value of his Yorkshire estates in just 20 years (at a time when the county was devastated by the Harrying of the North).

In 1067 William de Warenne was one of 4 prominent Normans appointed to govern England during William the Conqueror’s absence in Normandy. Following the Conquest, he continued to support the king and – subsequently – his son, William II Rufus – as a military commander for over 20 years. In 1074 he was with his father at the abbey of Holy Trinity in Rouen, where he was a witness to his father’s last known charter, and in 1083-85 he fought with the king on campaign in Maine, being wounded at the siege of the castle of Sainte-Suzanne.

In 1075, along with Richard de Clare, his fellow justiciar, he was sent to deal with the rebellion of Earl Ralph de Gael of East Anglia. De Gael had failed to respond to their summons to answer for an act of defiance and so the 2 lords faced and defeated the rebels at Fawdon in Cambridgeshire, mutilating their prisoners afterwards. Ralph withdrew to Norwich Castle; besieged for 3 months he managed to escape his attackers by boat, while the castle surrendered and was occupied by de Warenne.

William de Warenne was married to a Flemish noblewoman, Gundrada; her brother Gerbod was sometime earl of Chester and another brother, Frederic, held lands in Norfolk which eventually passed to Gundrada. Frederic, appears to have jointly, with Gundrada, held lands in England even before the Conquest, when two people named Frederic and Gundrada are mentioned as holding four manors in Kent and Sussex. It would indeed be a coincidence if there were two other related people, named Frederic and Gundrada, very distinctive foreign names, in England at that time. Gundrada’s brothers, it seems, were deeply involved in the border politics between Flanders and Normandy; indeed, it is thought that Gerbod resigned his responsibilities in Chester in order to return to the Continent to oversee the family’s lands and duties there, following the death of an older brother, Arnulf II of Oosterzele-Scheldewindeke.

Frederic was murdered by English freedom fighter, Hereward the Wake; his murder giving rise to a personal feud between Hereward and William de Warenne:

‘Among his other crimes, by trickery [Hereward] killed Frederick, brother of Earl William of Warenne, a man distinguished by lineage and possessions, who one night was surrounded in his own house. On account of his murder, such discord arose between Hereward and the aforesaid William that it could not be settled by any reparation nor in any court.’¹

There has been considerable debate among historians over the theory that Gundrada may have been the daughter of William the Conqueror, but the confusion appears to have come from an unreliable charter belonging to Lewes Priory and Gundrada being part of the household of King William’s wife, Matilda. The confirmation charter of the foundation of the priory has King William naming ‘William de Warenne and his wife Gundrada, my daughter.’² In the same charter, William de Warenne pleads ‘for the health of my mistress Queen Matilda, mother of my wife.’³ However, this is a confirmation of an earlier charter and in the original, while the king and William de Warenne, both, mention Gundrada, neither refer to her as being related to the king or queen.

Historian Elisabeth van Houts argues that Gundrada was most likely a distant relative of Queen Matilda and the counts of Flanders, as asserted in her epitaph as ‘offspring of dukes’ and a ‘noble shoot’. Indeed, had her father been William the Conqueror, her epitaph would surely have referred to her as the offspring of kings. Even if she had been the daughter of Matilda by an earlier marriage, off-spring of kings would have still been appropriate, given that Queen Matilda was the granddaughter of King Robert II of France. Though it does seem likely that Matilda and Gundrada were related in some way, perhaps distant cousins.

The ‘dukes’ referred to in Gundrada’s epitaph, although naturally assumed to be of Normandy, could well refer to a kinship with the house of Luxembourg, to which Queen Matilda’s paternal grandmother, Orgive, belonged. Moreover, Frederic was a familial name within the house of Luxembourg. This kinship via the House of Luxembourg with Queen Matilda would also explain the queen’s gift to Gundrada, of the manor of Carlton, which is usually given as evidence that Gundrada belonged to the queen’s household; an association which would be entirely consistent with kinship.

Gundrada and William were married sometime around the time of the Conquest, either before or after the expedition to conquer England. They had 3 children together. Their eldest son, William, would succeed his father as Earl of Surrey and Warenne. He married Isabel de Vermandois, widow of Robert de Beaumont, earl of Leicester; with whom he had, according to one chronicler, been having an affair even before the earl’s death. Young William had a chequered career, he supported the claims of Robert Curthose, Duke of Normandy, to the English throne against the duke’s younger brother, Henry I, but changed sides and fought for Henry at the Battle of Tinchebrai in 1106. Duke Robert lost and was captured and imprisoned by Henry. William remained in the king’s favour for the rest of the reign, fighting alongside Henry at the Battle of Bremule in 1119. William, his son and stepsons were at Henry’s deathbed at Lyons-la-Foret when he died in 1135.

William and Gundrada’s second son, Rainald de Warenne, led the assault on Rouen in 1090, for William II Rufus, in the conflict between the English king and his older brother, Duke Robert. However, by 1105 Rainald was fighting for the duke against the youngest of the Conqueror’s sons, Henry I, defending the castle of Saint-Pierre-sur-Dives for the duke. He was captured by Henry the following year but had been freed by September 1106. It is possible he died shortly after but was certainly dead by 1118 when his brother issued a charter, in which he gave 6 churches to Lewes Priory, for the soul of deceased family members, including Rainald.

Gundrada and William also had a daughter, Edith, who married Gerard de Gournay, son of the lord of Gournay-en-Bray. Gerard also supported William II Rufus against Duke Robert and took part in the Crusade of 1096. Edith later accompanied him on pilgrimage back to Jerusalem, sometime after 1104, where he died. Gerard was succeeded by their son, Hugh de Gournay, whose daughter Gundreda would be the mother of Roger de Mowbray. Edith then married Drew de Monchy, with whom she had a son, Drew the Younger.

Sadly, Gundrada died in childbirth at Castle Acre in Norfolk on 27th May 1085. She was buried in the chapter house of the couple’s own of foundation Lewes Priory.

William’s second wife was a sister of Richard Guet, who was described as ‘frater comitissae Warennae’ when he gave the manor of Cowyck to Bermondsey Abbey in 1098.³ Guet was a landowner in Perche, Normandy, but his sister’s name has not survived the passage of time. All we know of her is that, a few days after her husband’s death, she attempted to gift 100 shillings to Ely Abbey in restitution for damage caused by William de Warenne. The monks refused the donation, hoping that Warenne’s departing soul had been claimed by demons.⁴

Despite this feud with Ely, William de Warenne and his wife, Gundrada, had a reputation for piety. At some point in their marriage, probably 1081-3, they went on pilgrimage to Rome. Due of war in Italy they only got as far as the great abbey of Cluny in Burgundy, where they were received into the fellowship of monks. On their return to England, they founded a priory at Lewes, following the Cluniac rule and a prior and 3 monks were sent from Cluny to establish the foundation. It was the first Cluniac foundation in England.

Following the Conqueror’s death, William fought in support of the late king’s second son, William II Rufus against his older brother, Robert Curthose, who had inherited the dukedom of Normandy. He was rewarded in early 1088 with the earldom of Surrey. The new earl fought for William II Rufus during an invasion by Robert’s supporters and was badly wounded at the siege of Pevensey Castle, East Sussex, in the spring of 1088. He was taken to Lewes, where he died of his wounds on 24th June of the same year. Earl Warenne was buried beside his first wife, Gundrada, in the chapter house of Lewes Priory.

Following the dissolution of Lewes Priory in the 16th century, Gundrada’s tombstone was first moved to Isfield Church; it was moved again in 1775 to the parish church of St John the Baptist at Southover in Lewes. The remains of Gundrada and William, themselves, were discovered in 2 leaden chests in 1845, when the railway line was excavated through the priory grounds. They were laid to rest, for a final time, at the Southover church, in 1847, in a chapel dedicated to Gundrada de Warenne.

William and Gundrada de Warenne had founded a dynasty that would survive for almost 300 years, dying out in the reign of Edward III following the disastrous marriage of John de Warenne, 7th and last Earl of Warenne and Surrey

Footnotes:

¹ The Warenne (Hyde) Chronicle edited and translated by Elisabeth M.C. van Houts and Rosalind C. Love; ² My translation from quote in George Floyd Duckett, Observations on the Parentage of Gundreda, the Daughter of William Duke of Normandy, and Wife of William de Warenne; ³ibid; ⁴Early Yorkshire Charters Volume 8: The Honour of Warenne, Edited by William Farrer and Charles Travis Clay; ⁵ibid

Images:

Sources:

Early Yorkshire Charters Volume 8: The Honour of Warenne, Edited by William Farrer and Charles Travis Clay; England Under the Norman and Angevin Kings by Robert Bartlett; Brewer’s British Royalty by David Williamson; Britain’s Royal Families, the Complete Genealogy by Alison Weir; british-history.ac.uk; kristiedean.com; English Heritage Guidebook for Conisbrough Castle by Steven Brindle and Agnieszka Sadrei; oxforddnb.com; George Floyd Duckett, Observations on the Parentage of Gundreda, the Daughter of William Duke of Normandy, and Wife of William de Warenne; Elisabeth M.C. Van Houts and Rosalind C. Love (eds and trans), The Warenne (Hyde) Chronicle; C.P. Lewis, ‘Warenne, Gundrada de (d.1085)’, ODNB; Elisabeth Van Houts, ‘The Warenne View of the Past’, in Proceedings of the Battle Conference 2003, edited by John Gillingham

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The Lancaster Sisters

19/03/202231/03/2025Sharon Bennett Connolly7 Comments

Although they had the same start in life, the two daughters of John of Gaunt and Blanche of Lancaster led very different lives as adults. While Philippa would become the mother of the Illustrious Generation of Portuguese princes, Elizabeth would have to overcome scandal and the taint of treason before finding love in the last of her three marriages.

Philippa of Lancaster was born at Leicester on 31 March 1360. She was the eldest daughter of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster and 4th son of Edward III, and his first wife Blanche of Lancaster, great-great-granddaughter of Henry III. Philippa’s father was one of the richest men in the country – and one of the most powerful. Her life as a child would have been one of luxury and privilege, with a glorious dynastic marriage awaiting her in the future. Philippa was raised alongside her younger sister, Elizabeth, who was born in 1363/4, and her baby brother, Henry of Bolingbroke, born in 1367.

The children lost their mother when Blanche died at Tutbury on 12 September 1368, from the complications following the birth a daughter, Isabella, who did not survive. The children’s father was with Blanche when she died but departed on campaign to France soon after; although it is doubtful the children’s care was interrupted.

Philippa and her sister were raised together in one household, with Blanche Swynford, the daughter of their mother’s lady-in-waiting, Katherine Swynford. John of Gaunt provided his daughters with an annual allowance of £200. The Lancaster household was well-organised and run by Katherine, now the girls’ governess. She became mistress to their father, John of Gaunt, in early 1371. Despite his relationship with Katherine, in September 1371 the Lancaster children gained a stepmother in their father’s new bride, Constance of Castile. Constance was the daughter and heir of Pedro the Cruel, the deceased King of Castile who had been murdered by his half-brother, Henry of Trastámara, in March 1369. A new sister arrived when Constance gave birth to Catherine (Catalina) of Lancaster, in 1372/3.

Despite several dynastic marriage propositions, by 1385 and at 25 years old Philippa was still unmarried. However, in the following year her father took all three of his daughters on his military expedition to Spain, hoping to claim the kingdom of Castile in right of his second wife, Constance. Philippa’s marriage to John – or Joao – I of Portugal was agreed as part of an alliance made with her father at Ponte do Mouro in November 1386. Philippa was married to King John at Oporto on 2nd February 1387, before they had even received the required papal dispensation. Philippa was 26 – about 10 years older than the average age for a princess to marry. John of Portugal was three years her senior and had been king for just short of two years.

Philippa of Lancaster, Queen of Portugal

Almost immediately after the wedding John returned to the war. In July 1387 Philippa miscarried their first child while visiting John at Curval, where he lay seriously ill. However, after what appears to have been a bumpy start, the couple seem to have been well-matched. John had had two illegitimate children before his marriage, but was demonstrably faithful to Philippa after the wedding. In fact, when court gossip reached the queen with rumours that he had been unfaithful, John went to great lengths to convince Philippa of his innocence. He even went so far as to commemorate the event by having a room in the royal apartments at Sintra decorated with chattering magpies as reference to the court gossips.

Philippa became known as ‘Dona Fillipa’ in Portugal and would be one of the country’s best-loved queens. Her natural disposition to austerity and piety was endearing to the Portuguese people. Philippa reformed the court and encouraged courtly games among her ladies. French poet Eustace Deschamps characterised her as the chief patron of the order of The Flower of England, casting her at the centre of the court and the May Day celebrations.

Instrumental in fostering links between England and Portugal, Philippa had been made a Lady of the Garter in 1378. She was on good terms with both Richard II and his successor – her brother, Henry IV. In 1399 she wrote to the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Arundel, asking him to intervene with Henry on behalf of her friend, Bishop Henry Despenser of Norwich, who had angered the new king by defending Richard II at the time of Henry’s invasion of England and seizure of the throne. Philippa also had a hand in persuading Henry to arrange the marriage of her stepdaughter, Beatriz (John’s illegitimate daughter) to the earl of Arundel in 1405.

Philippa and John were to have a large family, which they brought up with great care. Of their 9 children, five sons and a daughter survived infancy and would later be known in Portugal as ‘the Illustrious Generation’ (a Ínclita Geração).

Their eldest surviving son, Edward, was born in 1391 and would succeed his father as King of Portugal in 1433. Peter, Duke of Coimbra, was born in 1392 and would act as regent for his nephew, Afonso V, following Edward’s death in 1438. Their most famous son was Prince Henry ‘the Navigator’, Duke of Viseu, who was renowned for financing and researching great explorations. Another son was John, Duke of Beja and Constable of Portugal, who married Isabella, the daughter of Alfonso I, Duke of Braganza. And the baby of the family was Ferdinand, Grand Master of Aviz. He was born in 1402 and was later known as ‘the Saint Prince’ following his death as a prisoner of the Moors. John and Philippa’s one daughter, Isabella, was born in 1397 and would go on to marry Philip III the Good, Duke of Burgundy; she was the mother of Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy.

Tomb of John and Philippa, Batalha Abbey

By 1415 Philippa’s oldest sons were itching to prove their martial prowess. Scorning their father’s offer to hold a magnificent tournament for them, they persuaded him to mount an attack on the port of Ceuta in North Africa. It was as they were about to set sail that Philippa fell ill with the plague. She died at Odivelas, near Lisbon, on 18/19 July 1415, aged 55. On her deathbed she gave her three eldest sons a jewel encrusted sword, each, in anticipation of their impending knighthoods. She also gave them a piece of the true cross and her blessing for the forthcoming military expedition, exhorting “them to preserve their faith and to fulfil the duties of their rank”.

Described as pious, charitable, affable and obedient to her husband, Queen Philippa was held up as a model queen. She was buried in the Dominican Priory at Batalha Abbey, which had been founded by King John, who would be laid beside her after his death in August 1433. Their sons, Ferdinand, John, Henry and Peter, were laid to rest along the south side of the same chapel.

Philippa’s sister, Elizabeth, was not to have such a glittering international marriage. She was also made a Lady of the Garter in 1378 and, in 1380, when she was seventeen years old, her future appeared to be decided when she married John Hastings, Earl of Pembroke, at Kenilworth Castle. However, the young Earl was only about seven years old at the time, being Elizabeth’s junior by ten years, and the princess soon tired of waiting for her bridegroom to grow up. The unconsummated marriage was eventually dissolved around the same time that it was discovered that Elizabeth was pregnant by Sir John Holland, half-brother of Elizabeth’s cousin, King Richard II. John already had a bit of a reputation and was supposedly rumoured to have been having an affair with Elizabeth’s aunt, Isabella of Castile, wife of Edmund, Duke of York, and there was a possibility that he was the father of Isabella’s youngest son, Richard of Conisbrough; although it now appears that this rumour only arose 50 years or so later, so whether it was contemporary is open to question.

Arms of John Holland, Duke of Exeter, Elizabeth’s second husband

Whether Elizabeth was seduced by John Holland, or whether they fell in love, we cannot be certain. However, once the affair was discovered, Elizabeth and Holland were hurriedly married, near Plymouth, on 24 June 1386. Within two weeks, the couple were aboard ship with John of Gaunt, his wife Constance, and daughters, Philippa and Catherine; ninety ships and thousands of men were taking part in an expedition aimed at winning the throne of Castile for Constance and John. Elizabeth gave birth to her daughter Constance, in early 1387. She would have been nursing the infant throughout the disastrous campaign in Castile, which saw the army decimated by a combination of sickness, the unfriendly climate and dwindling supplies. By May 1387, John of Gaunt and his ally, John I of Portugal, the husband of Elizabeth’s older sister Philippa since February, had agreed peace terms with Castile.

At the end of May 1387, Elizabeth, her husband and their baby girl left the army and returned to English soil, after receiving a safe-conduct to travel through Castile. On 2 June 1388 John was created Earl of Huntingdon by his half-brother, the king; he would be elevated to Duke of Exeter on 29 September 1397.

The marriage produced at least four children, three sons and a daughter. Constance, the oldest, married Thomas Mowbray, 4th Earl of Norfolk. Of the sons John, Richard and Edward, John eventually succeeded to his father’s title of Duke of Exeter. The late 1390s proved turbulent times for Elizabeth. Her brother Henry of Bolingbroke was banished from England by their cousin, Richard II, in 1398; the sentence was extended to life following the death of their father, John of Gaunt, on 3 February 1399. When Henry retaliated by invading England and taking the king prisoner, it must have been a difficult time for Elizabeth. Her brother was now King Henry IV, but she was married to the former king’s half-brother.

Coat of arms of Sir John Cornwall, 1st Baron Fanhope and Milbroke, Elizabeth’s third husband

Her youngest son, Edward was not yet a year old when John Holland joined the conspiracy to restore his brother to the throne, the Epiphany Rising. Holland and his fellow conspirators, the earls of Salisbury, Kent and others, planned to kill the usurping king and his sons at the New Year jousts. However, Henry IV learned of the plot and the conspirators were arrested. John Holland was executed at Pleshey Castle on 9 January 1400, his head placed on London Bridge and his body buried in the Collegiate Church at Pleshey. He was attainted by parliament, his honours and lands forfeit to the crown. However, Elizabeth, as sister of the king, would not suffer for her husband’s treason, and was granted 1,000 marks a year for her maintenance. John and Elizabeth’s eldest surviving son, John, would eventually become Duke of Exeter, in a new creation, in 1444.

Within months of John Holland’s execution, it seems that Elizabeth, now in her late thirties, had an experience that few medieval women were ever privileged to. She fell head over heels in love with Sir John Cornwall, after watching him defeat a French knight in a joust at York. Cornwall was a career soldier who had fought in Scotland and Brittany, and would soon be fighting to defeat Owain Glyn Dwr’s revolt in Wales. Although considerably younger than Elizabeth, he also fell for the Lancastrian princess and within months the couple were secretly married. When he discovered the marriage, the king had Cornwall arrested and thrown into the Tower of London. However, Cornwall’s considerable charm, and most likely the pleas from his sister, soon persuaded the king to release the knight and restore him to favour. A widely respected soldier and one of the great chivalric heroes of his day, Cornwall was accepted into the Order of the Garter in 1409 and was one of Henry V’s most formidable captains during the Agincourt campaign of 1415.

Tomb of Elizabeth of Lancaster, St Mary’s Church, Burford

The couple were to have two children – a daughter, Constance and a son, John, who was born before 15 February 1405, when King Henry IV stood as his godfather. Young John would come to a tragic end in 1421, when the teenager was killed at the Siege of Meaux, his father a devastated witness to the tragedy. Elizabeth died at her husband’s estate of Burford, in Shropshire, on 24 November 1425. She was buried in Burford Parish Church, where her magnificent effigy, showing a tall, slender princess in colourful robes, can still be seen today. Sir John Cornwall was created Baron Fanhope in 1432 and Baron Milbroke around 1441; he died at his great estate of Ampthill in Bedfordshire on 11 December 1443 and was buried in a chapel he had founded, in the cemetery of the Friars Preacher near Ludgate in London. His two children having died before him, Cornwall bequeathed 800 marks to be divided between two illegitimate sons, and his estate at Ampthill was sold to his friend Ralph, Lord Cromwell.

While Philippa and Elizabeth led contrasting lives, the former as a queen on the international stage and the latter a noblewoman on the national stage, they both found contentment in their marriages. Elizabeth of Lancaster had led an eventful life, following her father to war, with an infant daughter on her hip and married for love at least once. Philippa is best remembered for her piety, her patronage and the Illustrious Generation of children that she raised in Portugal, the model image of a model queen.

An earlier version of this article first appeared on the blog hosted by Kyra Kramer.

Sources: The Plantagenets, the Kings who Made England by Dan Jones; Brewer’s British Royalty by David Williamson; Britain’s Royal Families, the Complete Genealogy by Alison Weir; The Mammoth Book of British Kings and Queens by Mike Ashley; The Plantagenets, the Kings that made Britain by Derek Wilson; englishmonarchs.co.uk; oxforddnb.com; annvictoriaroberts.co.uk.

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Isabelle d’Angoulême: A Complicated Queen

22/01/202217/04/2025Sharon Bennett Connolly33 Comments

Why is Isabelle d’Angoulême so hard to love?

At first sight, it is easy to have sympathy for Isabelle of Angoulême. When I started researching her for Ladies of Magna Carta: Women of Influence in Thirteenth Century England, I was expecting to be able to go some way to redeeming her reputation. She was married at a very young age – she was no more than 12 and may have been as young as 10 – to ‘Bad’ King John, the man who would later be accused of murdering his own nephew and left a woman to starve in his dungeons.

Isabelle d’Angoulême was the only child of Audemar, Count of Angoulême and Alice de Courtenay. Her mother was the daughter Peter de Courtenay, lord of Montargis and Chateaurenard, and a cousin of king Philip II Augustus of France. Through her Courtenay family connections, Isabelle was related to the royal houses of Jerusalem, Hungary, Aragon and Castile. When John set his sights on her, Isabelle was betrothed to Hugh IX de Lusignan: the chronicler Roger of Howden maintained that Isabelle had not yet reached the age of consent, which was why she was still only betrothed to Hugh, rather than married to him. The marriage between Isabelle and Hugh was intended to put to bed, literally, a long-running, bitter rivalry between the Lusignans and the counts of Angoulême. It would also unite neighbouring regions in Aquitaine, posing a threat to Angevin power in the region. This could have effectively cut Aquitaine in two, jeopardising the stability of the borders of Poitou and Gascony. John could not help but see the threat posed by the impending marriage and sought to put a stop to it. Count Audemar, it seems, was quite receptive to the suggestion that he abandon the Lusignan match if it meant that his daughter would become a queen.

In the early years of their marriage, John appears to have treated Isabelle more like a child than a wife, which she still was, and she was financially dependent on him. When she was not at court with the king, Isabelle spent time at Marlborough Castle or in the household of John’s first wife, Isabella of Gloucester, at Winchester. Isabella’s allowance was raised from £50 to £80 a year, to pay for the extra expenses incurred by housing the queen.

It appears that Isabelle was an unpopular queen, guilty by her association with the excesses and abuses of John’s regime. It was in this light that John’s marriage to Isabelle was seen as the start of England’s woes, with some of the blame falling unfairly on the young queen. Contemporary sources reported that John spent his mornings in bed with the queen, when he should have been attending to the business of the country, casting Isabelle as some kind of temptress, irresistible to the king. The fact that Isabelle did not give birth to her first child until 1207, when she was in her late teens, puts the lie to these sources, suggesting that she and John did not consummate the marriage in the first few years. After 16 years together, the couple had 5 children; Henry III, Richard of Cornwall, Isabella, Joan and the youngest, Eleanor, who was born in 1215 or 1216.

While her movements were restricted and closely controlled during her marriage to John, the situation did not improve for Isabelle following John’s death in 1216. Their 9-year-old son Henry was now king, but Isabelle was excluded from playing a role in the regency government; her unpopularity in England and lack of political experience were major factors. Moreover, she had had limited contact with her children: they lived in separate households and Isabelle was not responsible for their supervision or education, which added to her isolation. Almost as soon as Henrys crowned, Isabelle started making arrangements to go home, to Angoulême, of which she was countess in her own right. In 1217 she left England.

Once in her own domains, Isabelle was to arrange the wedding of her daughter, Joan. Joan had been betrothed, at the age of 4, to Hugh X de Lusignan, Count of La Marche and the son of Hugh IX, the man who had been betrothed to Isabelle before John married her. In 1220 Isabelle shocked England, and probably the whole continent, when she scandalously married her daughter’s betrothed herself. Poor 9-year-old Joan’s erstwhile fiancé was now her stepfather! Worse was to come, however, when the little princess was not returned to her homeland, as might have been expected, but held hostage, by Isabelle and Hugh, to ensure Hugh’s continued control of her dower lands, and as a guarantee to the transfer of her mother’s dower, which the English government was withholding against the return of Joan.

Stalemate.

Isabelle wrote to her son, Henry III, to explain and justify why she had supplanted her own daughter as Hugh’s bride, claiming ‘…lord Hugh of Lusignan remained alone and without heir in the region of Poitou, and his friends did not permit our daughter to be married to him, because she is so young; but they counselled him to take a wife from whom he might quickly have heirs, and it was suggested that he take a wife in France. If he had done so, all your land in Poitou and Gascony and ours would have been lost. But we, seeing the great danger that might emerge from such a marriage – and your counsellors would give us no counsel in this – took said H[ugh], count of La Marche, as our lord; and God knows that we did this more for your advantage than ours…’

Ironically, Isabelle had now achieved that which King John had hoped to avoid; the union of La Marche and Angoulême, splitting Angevin Aquitaine down the Little Joan was finally returned to England towards the end of 1220, but the arguments over Isabelle’s English lands continued throughout the 1220s and beyond. Isabelle would not retire in peace and in 1224 she and Hugh betrayed Henry by allying themselves with the King of France. In exchange for a substantial pension, they supported a French invasion of Poitou (the lands in France belonging to the King of England, her son).

Hugh and Isabelle were reconciled with Henry in 1226 and Isabelle met her first-born son for the first time in more than twelve years in 1230, when Henry mounted a futile expedition to Brittany and Poitou. Isabelle and Hugh, however, continued to play the kings of France and England against each other, always looking for the advantage, though this was probably as much by necessity as self-interest. They did, after all, live in France and their relationship with England complicated things. In 1242, for example, when Henry III invaded Poitou, Hugh X initially gave support to his English stepson, only to change sides once more, precipitating the collapse of Henry’s campaign. Isabelle herself was implicated in a plot to poison King Louis IX of France and his brother, only to be foiled at the last minute; the poisoners claimed to have been sent by Isabelle. There is no evidence of Isabelle denying the accusation, but she never admitted her guilt, either.

Isabelle’s second marriage proved even more unstable than her first, shaken by Hugh’s frequent infidelities and threats of divorce. Isabelle enjoyed greater personal authority within her second marriage; where she had issued no charters whilst married to King John, as Hugh de Lusignan’s wife, the couple issued numerous joint charters. Her difficult relationship with France added to Isabelle’s marital problems. In one instance, Isabelle was offended by the queen of France when she was not offered a chair to sit, in the queen’s presence, regardless of the fact she herself was a crowned and anointed queen. Following this insult, in 1241, Isabelle castigated Hugh de Lusignan for supporting a French candidate to the county of Poitou, ahead of her son, Henry III. In retaliation, Isabelle stripped Lusignan Castle of its furnishings and refused to allow her husband into her castle at Angoulême for three days.

Despite the rocky relationship, Isabelle and Hugh had nine children together, including Aymer de Lusignan and William de Valence. Many of his Lusignan half-siblings would later cause problems for Henry III, having come to England to seek patronage and advancement from their royal half-brother.

Tomb effigy of Isabelle d’Angoulême, Fontevraud Abbey

In 1244 the two royal cooks admitted the attempted poisoning of the French king, and that they had been paid by Isabelle. Before she could be arrested, Isabelle retired to Fontevraud Abbey, where she died on 4 June, 1246. The dowager queen of England was buried in the abbey’s churchyard. However, when Henry III visited his mother’s final resting place, he was shocked that she was buried outside the abbey and ordered that she be moved inside. She was finally laid to rest in the abbey church, beside Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine.

As contemporaries described her as ‘more Jezebel than Isabel’, accused her of ‘sorcery and witchcraft’, Isabelle of Angouleme’s reputation as a heartless mother and habitual schemer seems set to remain. Married to King John whilst still a child, she was castigated as the cause for the loss of the majority of John’s continental possessions and the subsequent strife and civil war; one could easily sympathise with her lack of love for England. That Isabelle apparently abandoned the children of her first husband within months of his death, and her supposed willingness to betray her son for her own ends would go some way to destroy the compassion one may have felt for her. However, we have to remember that nothing is ever black and white and we have to consider that Isabelle was balancing the interests of her two families – one French and one English – which were, unfortunately for Isabelle, irreconcilable due to the politics of the time.

One thing is for sure, Isabelle d’Angoulême is a fascinating character!

Images:

Courtesy of Wikipedia

Sources:

Rich Price, King John’s Letters Facebook group; Robert Bartlett England Under the Norman and Angevin Kings 1075-1225; Dan Jones The Plantagenets; the Kings who Made England; The Plantagenet Chronicle Edited by Elizabeth Hallam; Maurice Ashley The Life and Times of King John; Roy Strong The Story of Britain; Oxford Companion to British History; Mike Ashley British Kings & Queens; David Williamson Brewer’s British Royalty; Ralph of Diceto, Images of History; Marc Morris, King John; David Crouch, William Marshal; Crouch and Holden, History of William Marshal; Crouch, David, ‘William Marshal [called the Marshal], fourth earl of Pembroke (c. 1146–1219)’, Oxforddnb.com; Flanagan, M.T., ‘Isabel de Clare, suo jure countess of Pembroke (1171×6–1220)’, Oxforddnb.com; Thomas Asbridge, The Greatest Knight; Chadwick, Elizabeth, ‘Clothing the Bones: Finding Mahelt Marshal’, livingthehistoryelizabethchadwick.blogspot.com; Stacey, Robert C., ‘Roger Bigod, fourth earl of Norfolk (c. 1212-1270)’, Oxforddnb.com; finerollshenry3.org.uk; Vincent, Nicholas, ‘William de Warenne, fifth earl of Surrey [Earl Warenne] (d. 1240)’, Oxforddnb.com.

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Magna Carta’s Family Ties

04/12/202111/11/2024Sharon Bennett Connolly11 Comments

As I have been pursuing the various strands of research into the female personalities in medieval England, I have been struck, time and again, by how closely related the nobility were, through blood and marriage. Just look at the women who surround the Magna Carta story. Each of the women I wrote of had at least one familial connection to another great noble family; some had a number of links to several families. It is a tangled and complicated web, but I will try and give you a brief overview here.

As you may have noticed, my favourite medieval woman is Nicholaa de la Haye, castellan of Lincoln Castle; she successfully defended the castle through at least 3 sieges, the last 2 when she was a widow in her 60s. Nicholaa was related to King John’s half-brother, William Longespée, Earl of Salisbury, through her son, Richard, whose daughter Idonea was married at a young age to William (II), Longespée’s son by his wife, Ela of Salisbury. It was as a result of this connection that William (I) Longespée claimed Lincoln Castle and the shrievalty of Lincolnshire following the Second Battle of Lincoln in May 1217. Longespée claimed that as they were his daughter-in-law’s inheritance, it was his right to administer them. Idonea’s father, Richard, had died sometime in the previous 12 months, leaving Idonea as his sole heir. Longespée appears to have conveniently forgotten – or ignored – the fact that the castle of Lincoln was Nicholaa’s by hereditary right – and Nicholaa was still very much alive!

Coat of arms of William Longespée, 3rd Earl of Salisbury

Despite Nicholaa’s stalwart defence of Lincoln Castle during a 10-week siege, Longespée was granted the position of sheriff just 4 days after the battle, and promptly seized the castle. Nicholaa’s refusal to accept this saw her presenting herself to the royal court and requesting she be reinstated. A compromise was reached whereby Longespée remained as sheriff of Lincolnshire, but Nicholaa was reinstated as castellan of Lincoln Castle, and given control of the city of Lincoln itself. Longespée was by no means satisfied and continued to scheme to gain control of the castle; Nicholaa doggedly held on and only retired from her position as castellan of Lincoln in 1226, 3 months after Longespée’s death.

Ela of Salisbury provided at least two further familial connections among my Ladies of Magna Carta. Through her grandfather, Patrick of Salisbury, Ela was a cousin of William Marshal and his five daughters. Marshal was the son of Patrick of Salisbury’s sister, Sybilla. Patrick himself had married, as his second wife, Ela de Talvas, who was the widow of William de Warenne, 3rd Earl of Warenne and Surrey. From her first marriage, Ela de Talvas was the mother of the heiress, Isabel de Warenne, Countess of Surrey in her own right and wife to, first, William of Blois, youngest son of King Stephen and secondly, Hamelin Plantagenet, illegitimate half-brother of King Henry II. Isabel de Warenne, therefore, was aunt to Ela of Salisbury, Richard the Lionheart and King John.

Isabel de Warenne’s own aunt, Ada de Warenne, was married to the son and heir of King David I of Scotland, Henry, Earl of Huntingdon. Ada was the mother of two Scottish kings, Malcom IV the Maiden and William I the Lion. She was, therefore, the grandmother of the Scottish princesses, Margaret and Isabella, the only two women, other than the queen, Isabelle d’Angoulême, who can be clearly identified in a clause of Magna Carta. Margaret and Isabella had been handed over to King John as hostages following the 1209 Treaty of Norham, agreed between their father, William the Lion, and King John. John was supposed to find suitable husbands for the teenage girls; it had been implied that they would be married to John’s sons, Henry and Richard, but no marriages had ever materialised. Clause 59 of Magna Carta stipulated that John would find spouses for the princesses or send them home.

The two girls were eventually wed to English noblemen, though not until the 1220s. In 1221 Margaret married Hubert de Burgh, Henry III’s Justiciar and widower of another of my Ladies of Magna Carta, Isabella of Gloucester, who also had the dubious honour of having been the first wife of King John. Princess Isabella was married, in 1225, to Roger Bigod, Earl of Norfolk, who was 14 years her junior. The marriage was not a happy one. A third Scottish princess, Marjorie, who was several years younger than her two sisters and not part of the conditions of the Treaty of Norham, also married into the English nobility. She became the wife of Gilbert Marshal, 4th Earl of Pembroke, third son of the great William Marshal, Earl of Pembroke and regent for Henry III.

Hubert de Burgh from Matthew Paris’s Historia Anglorum

Roger Bigod was himself the son of Hugh Bigod, Earl of Norfolk, and Matilda Marshal, eldest daughter of William Marshal. Marshal was the man who had led the army that relieved Nicholaa de la Haye and the siege of Lincoln Castle in May 1220. Matilda married, as her second husband, William de Warenne, 5th Earl of Warenne and Surrey and only son of Isabel and Hamelin, mentioned earlier. Matilda’s sister, Isabel, was married to Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloucester; he was the nephew of the same Isabella of Gloucester who had been wife to King John, Geoffrey de Mandeville and Hubert de Burgh. Isabel Marshal then married, as her second husband, Richard, Earl of Cornwall, brother of Henry III and youngest son of King John. Another sister, Eva, married William (V) de Braose, grandson of William (IV) de Braose and Matilda, the poor woman who was imprisoned by King John and starved to death, alongside her eldest son, in his dungeons in 1210. It was Eva’s husband who was hanged by Llywelyn, Prince of Gwynedd, after he was found in Llywelyn’s bedroom with Llywelyn’s wife, Joan, Lady of Wales and illegitimate daughter of King John.

Which brings us neatly to the royal family. John’s eldest legitimate daughter, also named Joan, was betrothed as a child to Hugh X de Lusignan, Count of La Marche. The marriage never materialised, however, as Joan’s mother, Isabelle d’Angoulême, decided to marry Count Hugh in her daughter’s stead, causing a rather juicy scandal in the process! Joan was not without a suitor for long and within a year of her mother’s marriage she was married to Alexander II, King of Scots and brother of those same Scottish princesses who were included in Magna Carta’s clause 59. Of Joan’s sisters, Isabella was married to Frederick II, Holy Roman Emperor and Eleanor, only a baby at the time of her father’s death, was married to William (II) Marshal, eldest son and heir of the great William Marshal, at the age of 9. Eleanor was a widow before her 16th birthday, dramatically taking a vow of perpetual chastity in front of the Archbishop of Canterbury shortly after her husband’s death.

Arms of William Marshal, Earl of Pembroke

As her second husband, Eleanor married Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, despite that pesky vow of chastity, which was to prove costly to Simon when he had to travel to Rome to seek a papal dispensation to have it annulled. Simon de Montfort was to continue the fight for reform that had been enshrined in Magna Carta, but would meet his end at the Battle of Evesham in 1265. Simon and Eleanor’s daughter, also named Eleanor, would marry Llywelyn, Prince of Wales, grandson of Llywelyn, Prince of Gwynedd. Eleanor died in childbirth in June 1282, while Llywelyn was defeated and killed by Edward I’s forces in December, the same year. Their only daughter, Gwenllian, was placed in a convent in Lincolnshire before she was 18 months old and would never leave it, dying there in 1337.

Another perpetual royal prisoner was Gwenllian’s distant cousin, Eleanor of Brittany, a granddaughter of Henry II, niece of King John and first cousin of Henry III. Her royal blood meant that she would never be afforded the protection enshrined in clause 39 of Magna Carta and inspired by the gruesome death of Matilda de Braose, that:

“No man shall be taken, imprisoned, outlawed, banished or in any way destroyed, nor will we proceed against or prosecute him, except by the lawful judgement of his peers or by the law of the land.”

There are many more familial links between the Ladies of Magna Carta. I could go on…

But I’m guessing that your heads are spinning and this is more than enough … for now.

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Why is Isabelle d’Angoulême so hard to love?

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