‘My daughter wanted me to treat her more like a princess.
So, I married her to a stranger to strengthen the alliance with Poland!’
From dutiful daughters to runaway nuns, from empresses to rebels. The life of a medieval princess was, perhaps, not as predictable as we have been led to believe. At times, it is true, they were married off to a foreign prince, never to see England or their family again. But we can count the number of girls that happened to on one hand. Which is quite remarkable, given the distances and pace of travel in medieval times, when a horse could cover around 20 miles a day and a horse litter, the popular form of travel for noble women, would cover far less than that.
Some princesses even visited home after they married or were visited by members of their family; some never even left England.
Marrying your daughter to a prince in a distant land and never hearing from her again was not the purpose of a royal marriage. It was never in the king’s interest to abandon his daughter, or sister, once she was married abroad. Royal daughters were raised to be a personal and diplomatic link to their homeland. They were the means of keeping communications open when all other options failed; private letters were used to warn against treachery or prevent a breakdown in diplomatic relations.
Some did escape this destiny. For instance, a number of William the Conqueror’s daughters became nuns. Cecilia had that life decided for her from a young age, but Adelida appears to have chosen this course after a number of failed marriage proposals. Perhaps she had had enough of the royal marriage market? King Stephen’s daughter, Mary, was also destined for the Church, with her parents even founding a religious house for her. Kidnapped for her royal blood, and forced into marriage, she would return to the convent after becoming a mother. The scandal was not of her making, unlike Gunhild, the daughter of King Harold II, who seems to have had a rather relaxed attitude to marriage and relationships; a woman before her time – by about 1,000 years! Gunhild had spent time in the convent, possibly having sought sanctuary after the Norman Conquest. There is uncertainty as to whether she ever took her vows; though the church seemed to believe she had and sought her return to the cloistered life.
Mary of Woodstock
Edward I’s daughter, Mary of Woodstock, was also destined for a career in the church, though she does not appear to have been suited to the contemplative lifestyle. She managed to spend as much time as she could at court; her father and brother regularly paying off gambling debts. Controversy even followed her beyond the grave, when John de Warenne, Earl of Surrey, trying to obtain a divorce from Mary’s niece, Joan of Bar, claimed that he had had an affair with her, a nun!
The last medieval royal nun was Bridget of York, the seventh and youngest daughter of Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville. Only 3 years old when her father died and she and her siblings were declared illegitimate, by 1489 Bridget was living at Dartford Priory, in the care of its Prioress, Elizabeth Cressener. Although she was cloistered, Bridget was not forgotten, nor isolated from her family. In 1492, she was able to attend her mother’s funeral. She was remembered in the will of her grandmother Cecily Neville, Duchess of York and Elizabeth of York’s wardrobe accounts from 1502 to 1503 indicate that the queen sent money to her sister at Dartford.
One English princess travelled far from home, into Kyivan Rus. King Harold’s oldest daughter, Gytha, came from a different society and generation. The Godwin family had strong Scandinavian ties, and it would have been natural for Gytha and her brothers to look for shelter and a future within that sphere, which stretched all the way to the court of the Grand Princes of Kyiv, as far away from the conquering Normans as possible.
Following the Norman Conquest, the focus of England’s foreign policy changed. Royal daughters were married into the European countries that would benefit England, those with close links geographically and culturally.
While English kings married French princesses, and Scottish kings married English princesses, the reverse happened rarely, if ever. Only one Scottish princess, Matilda of Scotland, married an English king, Henry I. And no English princess ever married a French king or an heir to the French throne, not in medieval times. The closest we came to it was Blanche of Castile, granddaughter of Henry II and niece of King John, who married the future Louis VIII. With John having no legitimate daughter at the time, he had to be creative and reach out to his wider family for a suitable princess to cement the fragile peace between him and Philip II of France.
Empress Matilda depicted at the coronation of her granddaughter, Matilda of England, as Duchess of Saxony, in an image from the Gospels of Henry the Lion.
Although no English princess became a queen of France, that is not to say English princesses did not marry Frenchmen. It is, perhaps, a clear indication of the animosity of Anglo-French relations in medieval times that kings of England were far happier to marry their daughters to the counts and dukes of the many semi-autonomous regions of France, such as Brittany, Toulouse and Blois; regions that challenged and stalled the expansion of the kingdom of France itself. The marriages of daughters into Germany, the Low Countries and Spain also served the policy of containing England’s biggest rival within its borders and preventing expansion into territories that could threaten England’s trading routes and sphere of influence.
Royal women journeyed great distances to marry. Empress Matilda is, perhaps, the most famous, but also Joanna Plantagenet, Henry II’s daughter and Richard I’s sister, and Isabella, Henry III’s sister, travelled further than most of the English princesses. While Empress Matilda remained close to her family through letters, there may also have been a meeting with her father on the borders of their respective domains in the late 1110s. Of Joanna and Isabella, each received visits from their brothers. Though in Isabella’s case it was her brother Richard, rather than Henry himself, she would also have met up with her younger sister, Eleanor, who stayed in Italy while her husband, Simon de Montfort, joined her brother Richard on Crusade. And in Joanna’s case, it was a little more than a visit, joining her brother, Richard the Lionheart, in the Third Crusade. But it seems apparent that both brothers, on their way to the Crusades, planned their routes to facilitate a meeting with their respective sisters.
And then there were the scandals, King Henry I’s illegitimate daughter, Juliane, who tried to kill her own father with a crossbow. And Joan, Lady of Wales, the illegitimate daughter of King John, the wife of Llywelyn the Great, who was found in her husband’s bedroom with another man. Such stories serve to demonstrate that life was did not always give royal women a ‘happily ever after’.
There were also royal daughters who were not born as princesses, but achieved that style through their father’s claiming of the English throne. Of William the Conqueror’s daughters, only the youngest, Adela, Countess of Blois, was born ‘in the purple’. We know this as Godfrey of Reims wrote a poem saying just that:
The duke’s child would rise to become an excellent woman, The goddess did not think it sufficient for her to be of ducal status. The royal virgin obtained by fate that her father would be king. In order for Adela to be the daughter of a king, the Fates allowed the father to establish himself as king. Because the virgin was not allowed to leave the womb Her father owed the kingdom of England to her
Philippa, Queen of Denmark, Norway and Sweden
Later, Henry of Bolingbroke’s seizure of the throne in 1399 created two new princesses of England, Blanche and Philippa. Their mother, Mary de Bohun, had died giving birth to Philippa in 1394 and in 1398, their father had been sent into exile; only to return the following year and force Richard II’s abdication. Their father’s accession as Henry IV saw the two girls’ marriage prospects improve dramatically. As the daughters of a duke, they would have expected to marry a rich heir to English lands. As the daughters of a king, they were now bargaining chips in international relations. Marriage would see Philippa become queen of Denmark, Norway and Sweden, while Blanche would travel to Germany to become Countess Palatine, taking with her a magnificent, jewel-encrusted crown that has survived to this day. Blanche fulfilled her duties by producing a son and heir, in what appears to have been a happy and loving marriage. Philippa never realised the joy of motherhood but ably attended to her duties as queen in other ways, as a protector and patron of her people, even leading the defence of Copenhagen, and a trusted consort and regent for her husband, King Eric.
Though not technically princesses, even illegitimate daughters could prove useful to kings. Henry I, in particular, would use his 10 illegitimate daughters to strengthen and cement alliances just as legitimate princesses could have been, with one Sybilla of Normandy becoming Queen of Scots, on her marriage to King Alexander I. The advantage to a king was that such marriages brought kings and rivals into the family, without passing on any claim to the English throne, thus being no threat to the king’s legitimate heirs.
As a usurpation can make princesses, as in the case of Henry IV’s daughters, it can also unmake them. With Richard III’s seizure of the throne in 1483, the daughters of Edward IV went from being the pampered darlings of England, with glittering futures ahead of them, to the bastardised daughters of a bigamous dead king.
What a change in fortunes!
The York sisters from the window in Canterbury Cathedral
As events unfolded in the summer of 1483, and the two princes were held in the Tower of London, gradually seen less and less within the precincts of the fortress, until they were no longer seen at all, Elizabeth of York and her sisters remained in sanctuary with their mother. A focus for political disaffection and an embarrassment to the new regime, it was a situation that Richard III could not allow to continue. Rumours abounded that plans were afoot to sneak the old king’s daughters out of Sanctuary and away to the Continent, safely beyond the reach of Richard and at the disposal of loyal Yorkists wanting to reinstate the line of Edward IV. To thwart such plans, Richard decided to open negotiations with Elizabeth Woodville, to persuade her to allow her daughters to leave sanctuary. Agreement was reached in March 1484, whereby Elizabeth of York and her sisters would be treated as befitted the king’s kinswomen.
After almost a year within the confines of Westminster Abbey, the daughters of Edward IV emerged from their sanctuary and were given lodgings at court. They had lost the prospect of dazzling futures as queens and duchesses and their status was now forever tainted by the questions over their legitimacy.
Richard III himself did have at least two illegitimate children and one of those was a daughter, Katherine. She would not be a princess, but as the natural daughter of a king, she has her place in history. Unfortunately, the information on Katherine Plantagenet is scant. Her date and year of birth are unknown. Given Richard’s reputation for piety and loyalty, it is assumed that she was born before Richard’s marriage to Anne Neville in 1472, as she herself was married in 1484. The minimum age for girls to marry was 12, but most parents waited until their daughters were 14 or 15, at least, before finding them husbands. Richard chose his friend William Herbert, Earl of Huntingdon, as his daughter’s husband. Herbert agreed to provide Katherine with a jointure worth £200 a year. For his part, the king agreed to bear the costs of the marriage and to endow that couple with lands and lordships that they could pass on to their male heirs. Katherine died before the coronation of Elizabeth of York in 1486 and was buried in the church of St James Garlickhithe, London.
Crown of Blanche of England
The experiences of the royal daughters throughout the the medieval era are disparate, not just in their futures but even in their family lives as they were growing up. Not all princesses were made in the same mould and each one found her own way to deal with her life and the cards that she was dealt. In my research I frequently discovered instances of happy medieval marriages – and even if a marriage was not based on love, it did not mean that it would not be successful. Indeed, in many such cases the young woman concerned found her own way of succeeding, whether it was through her children or the management of estates – or the fact that a lasting peace was achieved between her two countries.
Events in England would surely have taught them to weather the storms of married life – and international relations.
One thing is certain, these women were not mere pawns, or ornaments on the arm of a king, prince, duke or lord. They were not simply baby-making machines. Yes, in the masculine world they inhabited, a boy was always a prime requirement. A son was needed to continue the family line, to rule and command armies. But daughters were also necessary. They had a purpose – to seal alliances and to act as diplomats to protect English interests in the countries into which they married.
Their stories are quite remarkable.
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Princesses of the Early Middle Ages: Royal Daughters of the Conquest and Princesses of the Later Middle Ages: Royal Daughters of the Plantagenets tell the stories of England’s royal daughters from 1066 to the rise of the Tudors, from the last Anglo-Saxon princesses to the fall of the House of York.
Were they really pampered pawns sent off to marriages on the Continent, out of sight and out of mind?
Perhaps, there was different story, where a foreign marriage does not mean eternal exile, but a purpose in life, where a princess is a diplomat, an ambassador for England in her new country.
Where she is the bond between allies – most of the time.
Their stories are touching, inspiring and, at times, heartbreaking...
Praise for Princesses of the Early Middle Ages:
Heidi Malagisi: ‘This is another excellent book by Sharon Bennett Connolly. Extremely well researched and relatively easy to follow along, which is a great thing because there are so many Matildas and Eleanors in this book.‘
Tony Riches: “I challenge anyone with an interest in medieval Britain to not find something they will learn from this book.”
Anna Belfrage: “I just love how [Sharon] presents this huge cast of real life people in a casual, chatty tone that has me expecting the various female protagonists to suddenly pop their head up and add their own commentary.“
Praise for Princesses of the Later Middle Ages:
Elizabeth Chadwick:‘Really interesting and informative and gives a great handle on the goings on surrounding these ladies!’
Kathryn Warner: ‘A deeply researched, richly detailed and fascinating account of late medieval England’s forgotten princesses. I loved it!’
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The momentous events of 1066, the story of invasion, battle and conquest, are well known. But what of the women? Silk and the Sword: The Women of the Norman Conquest traces the fortunes of the women who had a significant role to play during the Norman Conquest – wives, lovers, sisters, mothers, leaders. These are lives full of drama, pathos and sometimes mystery: Edith and Gytha searching the battlefield of Hastings for the body of Harold, his lover and mother united in their grief for the fallen king. Who was Ælfgyva, the lady of the Bayeux Tapestry, portrayed with a naked man at her feet?
Janina Ramirez said it’s ‘Excellent’!
Heroines of the Tudor World focuses on the women who lived through the Renaissance and Reformation, examining the threats and challenges they faced and how they overcame them. These are the women who ruled, the women who founded dynasties, the women who fought for religious freedom, their families and love. These are the women who made a difference, who influenced countries, kings and the Reformation.
Derek Birks: ‘An excellent account of the changing roles of women in Tudor society.’
Annie Whitehead: ‘What a treat this book was to read. Bennett Connolly has an easy, conversation style of writing which welcomes you from the opening pages and draws you into her story.‘
Also by Sharon Bennett Connolly:
Heroines of the Medieval World; Silk and the Sword: The Women of the Norman Conquest; Ladies of Magna Carta: Women of Influence in Thirteenth Century England; Defenders of the Norman Crown: Rise and Fall of the Warenne Earls of Surrey; King John’s Right Hand Lady: The Story of Nicholaa de la Haye; Women of the Anarchy; Heroines of the Tudor World; Scotland’s Medieval Queens: From St Margaret to Margaret of Denmark; Princesses of the Early Middle Ages: Royal Daughters of the Conquest (March 2026); Princesses of the Later Middle Ages; Royal Daughters of the Plantagenets (August 2026)
Alternate Endings: An anthology of historical fiction short stories including Long Live the King… which is my take what might have happened had King John not died in October 1216. Available in paperback and kindle from Amazon.
Have a listen to theA Slice of Medieval podcast, which I co-host with Historical fiction novelist Derek Birks. Derek and I welcome guests, such as Ian Mortimer, Bernard Cornwell, Elizabeth Chadwick and Scott Mariani, and discuss a wide range of topics in medieval history, from significant events to the personalities involved.
Alexander I was the second-to-youngest son of Malcolm III Canmore and his sainted wife Margaret of Wessex. Born around 1077 or 1078, he was thirty-or-so when he ascended the throne in 1107, ‘as the King Henry granted him.’1 Like his brother Edgar before him, Alexander succeeded to the throne as a vassal of the English crown. He had probably spent the years between his father’s death and Edgar’s accession in exile in England, with Edgar and their younger brother, David. John of Fordun provides a largely flattering assessment of Alexander I as king:
‘Now the king was a lettered and godly man ; very humble and amiable towards the clerics and regulars, but terrible beyond measure to the rest of his subjects; a man of large heart, exerting himself in all things beyond his strength. He was most zealous in building churches, in searching for relics of saints, in providing and arranging priestly vestments and sacred books; most open-handed, even beyond his means, to all newcomers; and so devoted to the poor, that he seemed to delight in nothing so much as in supporting them, washing, nourishing, and clothing them.’2
One of the primary duties of a king is to marry and produce heirs; at least one son, preferably two – the heir and the spare. This guarantees the succession and offers stability to a country. Even daughters were useful to a king, their marriages cementing alliances with friends and enemies alike. Alexander I was married shortly after his accession to the throne. His bride was offered to him by his brother-in-law, King Henry I of England. She was Sybilla, also known as Sybilla of Normandy, one of the King of England’s many illegitimate offspring.
Henry I, Lincoln Cathedral
King Henry had more than twenty illegitimate children and as many as five were by the same mother, his mistress, or concubine, Sybilla Corbet. Orderic Vitalis refers to Sybilla of Normandy as ‘the daughter of King Henry by a concubine’.3 It is highly likely that Sybilla Corbet was Sybilla’s mother, one indication being their shared Christian name. She was the daughter of a Shropshire landowner named Robert Corbet. Her children with the king included Reginald, Earl of Cornwall, and a young man named William, who was described as the queen’s brother when he accompanied the younger Sybilla to Scotland. Sybilla Corbet is also reputed to have been the mother of Robert, Earl of Gloucester, Henry I’s oldest son and the stalwart supporter of his legitimate sister, Empress Matilda, during the Anarchy. After the end of her relationship with the king, Sybilla Corbet would go on to marry Herbert FitzHerbert, who held lands in Yorkshire and Gloucestershire, and have a further five children.
The date of Alexander’s marriage to Sybilla is unknown, though it is thought to have been shortly after his accession to the throne, possibly in 1107 or 1108, and before his involvement in the English campaign in Wales in 1114. It was in a charter dated to 1114 or 1115 that Alexander and Sybilla jointly refounded Scone Abbey, whereby they are referred to as ‘Alexander … King of Scots, son of King Malcolm and Queen Margaret and … Sybilla, Queen of Scots, daughter of King Henry of England.’4
Another unknown is Sybilla’s age at the time of her marriage as her birth was unrecorded. Alexander was in his 30s, while most historians agree that it is likely that Sybilla was born in the mid-to-late 1090s and probably in her mid-teens. Although born out of wedlock, as the acknowledged daughter of King Henry I of England, Sybilla was considered a suitable wife for King Alexander. Henry I’s illegitimate daughters played an important role in his foreign and domestic policies; no fewer than ten of them were married into the upper classes of the Norman-French nobility to cement political alliances. Sybilla’s illegitimate status was of less significance than the fact her father was the King of England.
Matilda of Scotland, Queen of England
The marriage was intended to bind Alexander even closer to England and to King Henry personally, who was already his brother-in-law, having married Alexander’s sister, Matilda of Scotland, shortly after becoming king. The union was also aimed at securing peace along the Anglo-Scottish border. In his chronicle, William of Malmesbury recorded the marriage, though did not name Sybilla and added ‘there was … some defect about the lady either in correctness of manners or elegance of person.’5 Malmesbury stated that Alexander ‘did not sigh much when she died before him, for the woman lacked, as is said, what was desired, either in modest manners, or in elegant body’.6 Unfortunately, William of Malmesbury does not elaborate further on this defect, nor on the reasons behind such an unflattering description of the Scottish queen. No other chronicler mentions any flaws in the queen. It is possible that Malmesbury was playing down the queen’s attributes, and the impact of her death on the king, in order to find favour with her brother-in-law David, Alexander I’s younger brother and heir.
Some historians have interpreted the childless marriage as also being loveless, perhaps drawing on Malmesbury’s depiction of Sybilla, most actually agree that, although there were no children, it was a happy and loving marriage. With this distance of time, it would be difficult to be certain either way. However, despite the lack of an heir, Alexander did not repudiate his wife, though that could always be as a result of who her father was. Rosalind Marshal suggests that Alexander loved Sybilla, and mourned her deeply when she died, founding a church in her memory.
Arms of Scotland
Alexander and Sybilla’s court is said to have been one of splendour, with reference to Arab stallions and Turkish men-at-arms. They issued a number of charters together, including the one founding Scone Abbey, mentioned above. Scone was the ancient site for the installation and crowning of Scotland’s kings, it was the centre of royal power in Scotland. Sybilla’s inclusion in the foundation of the Augustinian priory there demonstrates how she had become an integral part of the Scottish ruling dynasty. She and Alexander also made a joint offering to the cathedral church of St Andrews.
Sybilla also made grants, as an ecclesiastical patron, in her own right. She granted the manor of Beath in Fife to Dunfermline Abbey, the monastery founded by her husband’s parents, Malcolm III and Queen Margaret, their final resting place. Sybilla attested one of the four surviving charters from Alexander I’s reign, demonstrating her presence at court and involvement in the affairs of state. Significantly, it may have been Sybilla who acted as peacemaker between the king and Eadmer, when he became Bishop of St Andrews. Due to the investiture controversy that was causing issues throughout Europe, with kings and bishops in disagreement over the validity of lay investiture, Eadmer accepted the ring of office from King Alexander, but not the staff. The staff had been placed on the altar at the cathedral of St Andrews and it seems likely that Sybilla was the one who broached the compromise whereby Eadmer would take the episcopal ring from the king, but the pastoral staff from the altar. When Eadmer arrived at the cathedral church of St Andrews to take up the pastoral staff, Queen Sybilla was there to greet him.
Saint Margaret, Queen of Scots
Queen Sybilla died suddenly on the Island of the Women at ‘Loch Tay, the cell of the canons of Scone’ on 12 or 13 July 1122 and was buried at Dunfermline Abbey. Afterwards, the king granted the island on Loch Tay, and its surrounding lands, to the canons at Scone, to pray for the soul of Queen Sybilla, and himself. Alexander did not remarry after Sybilla’s death, leaving the crown to his brother, David, on his own death in 1124.
Queen Sybilla has left little imprint on history, beyond her name as a witness on a surviving charter and the founding of Scone Abbey. That she did not bear children, and therefore an heir for Alexander I, means that she did not have living descendants to keep her memory alive and memorialise her life and deeds, as Queen Margaret had. Her significance is, perhaps, not in her impact on Scotland but rather the physical link that she represented between the kingdoms and dynasties of England and Scotland, and thus demonstrating Scottish acceptance of Norman rule in England.
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Notes:
1. Manuscript E, The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles, edited and translated by Michael Swanton, p. 241; 2. John of Fordun’s Chronicle of the Scottish nation, pp. 217-218; 3. ‘filiam Henrici regis Anglorun ex concubine’ Orderic Vitalis cited in Danna Messer, Medieval Monarchs, Female Illegitimacy and Modern Genealogical Matters: Part 1: Sybilla, Queen of Scotland, c. 1090-1122, fmg.ac; 4. ‘Alexander…rex Scottorum filius regis Malcolmi et regine Margerete et…Sibilla regina Scottorum filia Henrici regis Anglie’ Scone, 1, p. 1. Quoted in fmg.ac/Projects/MedLands/SCOTLAND; 5. William of Malmesbury, 400, p. 349, quoted in fmg.ac/Projects/MedLands/SCOTLAND; 6. William of Malmesbury, quoted in Messer, Medieval Monarchs, Female Illegitimacy and Modern Genealogical Matters: Part 1: Sybilla, Queen of Scotland, c. 1090-1122
The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles, edited and translated by Michael Swanton; John of Fordun’s Chronicle of the Scottish nation; Danna Messer, Medieval Monarchs, Female Illegitimacy and Modern Genealogical Matters: Part 1: Sybilla, Queen of Scotland, c. 1090-1122; fmg.ac/Projects/MedLands/SCOTLAND; Jessica Nelson, Sybilla (d. 1122), queen of Scots and consort of Alexander I, Oxforddnb.com; Walter Bower, Scotichronicon; A.A.M. Duncan, Alexander I, Oxforddnb.com; Forester, The Chronicle of John Florence of Worcester with the two continuations; David Ross, Scotland, History of a Nation; Rosalind K. Marshall, Scottish Queens 1034-1714; Mike Ashley, A Brief History of British Kings & Queens; Richard Oram, editor, The Kings & Queens of Scotland
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Out now: Scotland’s Medieval Queens
Scotland’s history is dramatic, violent and bloody. Being England’s northern neighbour has never been easy. Scotland’s queens have had to deal with war, murder, imprisonment, political rivalries and open betrayal. They have loved and lost, raised kings and queens, ruled and died for Scotland. From St Margaret, who became one of the patron saints of Scotland, to Elizabeth de Burgh and the dramatic story of the Scottish Wars of Independence, to the love story and tragedy of Joan Beaufort, to Margaret of Denmark and the dawn of the Renaissance, Scotland’s Medieval Queens have seen it all. This is the story of Scotland through their eyes.
‘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)
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 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.
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:
Have a listen to theA Slice of Medieval podcast, which I co-host with Historical fiction novelist Derek Birks. Derek and I welcome guests, such as Bernard Cornwell and Michael Jecks, and discuss a wide range of topics in medieval history, from significant events to the personalities involved.
History... the interesting bits! 