Marguerite of Anjou - A woman scorned...

by Judith Arnopp

I first came across Marguerite while I was at university where I was struck by her unjust legacy. I spent many years researching and writing about Marguerite’s contemporary, Margaret Beaufort, who similarly fought for her son. The similarities only diverge when Margaret Beaufort triumphs and Marguerite’s hopes perish on Tewkesbury field.

Yorkist propaganda against Marguerite of Anjou begins early in her story and continues to affect our perception of her today. Polydore Vergil’s assessment of her character, taken from widespread Yorkist propaganda, echoes loudly in Shakespeare’s malevolent portrayal of the queen in his play ‘The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York and the Good King Henry the Sixth’

‘She wolf of France but worse than the wolves of France,

whose tongue more poisons than the adder’s tooth!

How ill be-seeming is it in thy sex

To triumph like an Amazonian trull

Upon their woes who Fortune captivates!

But that thy face is vizard like, unchanging,

Made impudent with use of evil deeds,

I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush.

To tell thee whence thy cam’st, of whom derived,

Were shame enough to shame thee, wert not shameless.’ (Act 1.4.112)

Sounds like a nice lady but my research revealed no monster but simply a queen determined to maintain her husband’s throne and to secure the inheritance of her son.  But Marguerite was a foreigner, unhampered by the political restraint placed upon English women and that fact cast the first shadow over her life in England.

Marguerite came from a line of determined women; both her paternal grandmother Yolande of Aragon, and her mother, Isabelle of Lorraine were deeply involved in politics and championed the rights of their absent husbands, raised taxes and armies, administered the duchies and laid down policies. Both women impacted on Marguerite’s own experience after she became Queen of England. To Marguerite, on finding her crown at risk, there was only one thing she could do and that was fight.

During her early years as queen, Marguerite acted as a supporting, conciliatory presence behind the king, mainly confining her activities to matchmaking and obtaining positions at court for friends and servants. She used her influence to secure the surrender of Maine and Anjou and, although the pressure on her to comply is obvious to us now, the act did not endear her to her new subjects.  

Her first real intercession into politics was during the Jack Cade rebellion when at her instigation Henry agreed to show leniency and issue a pardon to the rebels.  The king’s preamble to the pardon illustrates Marguerite’s role in the matter.

‘Nevertheless, recalling to the reflection and consideration of our mind that among those virtues fitting and proper to the royal person and dignity, none befits him more than clemency, which is apt to bring about and put the shame of sinning in the minds of his subject people, and considering as well that it is fitting to show himself such a prince to his subjects as he wishes and desires God to be supreme and high Lord him, persuaded and moved by these and many other pious considerations, among others by the most humble and persistent supplications, prayers and requests of our most serene and beloved wife and consort the queen…we have pardoned…’

The lure of a pardon undermined Cade’s force and mention of Marguerite’s intercession allowed Henry to show leniency without appearing weak. 

It is quite possible that had Henry not fallen ill, Marguerite’s supporting role would have continued but as his condition worsened and the threat from the Yorkist faction grew stronger, she had little option but to assume a more prominent position. The fluctuating health of the king meant that increasingly she governed beneath the cloak of Henry’s kingship, continuing to represent herself as subordinate to the king’s authority whilst, in fact, assuming increasing power.

During a lull in Henry’s illness Marguerite produced the king with an heir Edward, securing Lancaster’s position and dealing a blow to the ambitious Duke of York who was previously Henry’s heir. It is no coincidence that around this time propaganda against the queen increased, and York’s attempts to undermine Margaret’s authority picked up pace.

Some contemporary reports accuse the queen of sexual misconduct and her son, Edward, is described as a ‘changeling,’ a term which infers he was base born.  Two days before York was removed from office on 23 February 1456 a John Helton was executed for distributing bills that alleged the prince was not the queen’s son.  

As the enmity between York and Lancaster increased, the battle for power descended into military combat obliging Marguerite to step further and further from the expected feminine role. The nobles of England and their adherents were killed in skirmishes and battles, the reins of government passing from York to Henry (or Marguerite)  but it was not until the Battle of Towton that the reign of Lancaster was all but ended and the new Yorkist dynasty arose.

York was dead and Edward IV was firmly on the throne, Marguerite could have faded into gentile retirement. The House of York’s vendetta against the deposed queen could have ceased. But poetry and pamphlets continued to be issued, denigrating both Marguerite and her claim to the throne. She was blamed for the fall of the Lancastrian dynasty and stereotyped as ‘an angry woman driven by malice, spreading sorrow, disorder and confusion in her wake.’  

Marguerite, still refusing to admit defeat, spent the next ten years in exile, plotting to reinstate her son Edward. Her determination strong enough that when Warwick fell out with Edward IV, she formed an alliance with her great enemy and consented to a marriage between her son and Warwick’s youngest daughter, Anne.  

It was a short lived alliance that ended for Warwick at Barnet, and for Marguerite at Tewkesbury where her seventeen year old son was killed, along with her ambition for the English throne.

But Yorkist propaganda continued, using a wide range of devices to defame Marguerite, making it difficult, even now, to obtain a clear view of her. Early historians picked up the Yorkist banner and continued to dehumanise her, subverting her female instinct to nurture into an unnatural lust for murder.

               By the time Shakespeare wrote his Wars of the Roses plays Marguerite’s had already come to epitomise unrelieved lust for power possessing a ‘tigers heart wrapped in a woman’s hide.’   Her strength is undermined by her female flaws and she ‘lacks the true qualities of royalty...the queen’s character is also tainted by immorality: she is an adulteress. But it is power rather than lust which dominates her character, and vengefulness which becomes its most terrible flaw.’  

In Henry VI part III her feminine weaknesses are replaced by the most ignoble of male attributes; she is masculine but akin to the worst of men. Shakespeare’s Marguerite is an arch-villainess whose femininity is inverted to encompass the direst human traits; her assumption of a male role and her lust for blood and revenge reverses the natural order and creates chaos in the realm. 

In the hands of the bard, Marguerite is a marvellous authorial depiction of twisted humanity and as a playwright Shakespeare remains unchallenged but a historian he was not.  Unfortunately, Shakespeare’s history plays came to be utilised not as examples of literary genius but as factual documents of history.

In the 1840’s Agnes Strickland published her Lives of the Queens of England and viewed Marguerite’s story ‘...of more powerful of interest than are to be found in the imaginary career of any heroine of romance; for the creations of fiction, however forcibly they may appeal to our imagination, fade into insignificance before the simple majesty of truth.’

Like other Victorian moralists, Strickland provides a highly romanticised picture of an unfortunate queen who unwisely meddled in the concerns of men. Marguerite becomes pitiful in her defeat but Strickland, by illustrating her utter personal defeat and regret, upholds the medieval opinion of a woman’s proper place.

‘There is something touching in the very simplicity of the Latin sentence with which the deed begins, that was wrung from the broken-hearted heroine who had, through so many storms of adversity, defended the rights of her royal consort and son.  While they remained in life, she would have died a thousand deaths rather than relinquish even the most shadowy of their claims; but the dear ones were no more,

‘Ambition, pride, the rival names

of York and Lancaster,

with all their long contested claims

what were they then to her?

Passively and almost with indifference, Margaret subscribed the instrument commencing ‘Ego, Margarita dum in regno Anglia maritata etc. I, Margaret, formerly in England married, renounce all that I could pretend to in England by the conditions of my marriage, with all other things there, to Edward, now king of England.’

J. J. Bagley in his biography of Marguerite written in 1948 provides a less romantic presentation. Bagley admits that Marguerite ‘did not cause the Wars of the Roses, but her intense, bitter feeling, her refusal to compromise, and her disregard of any other factor than the inheritance of her only son were reflected in the brutal, callous nature of the prolonged struggle.  For the sake of its own cause and for the welfare of the English people, the house of Lancaster might have wished for a wiser and more understanding leader, but nowhere could it have found a braver and more determined champion. Queen Margaret’s life was more than a sad story. It was a true tragedy, for the root cause of her failure lay, not in the fickle fate of battles, but in her own character and philosophy.’

In Bagley’s opinion, the Lancastrian cause could not have wished for a braver leader but perhaps one less swayed by dangerous female characteristics such as loyalty to her son and a determination to maintain a hold on his birthright.  

Richard, Duke of York was equally ambitious for his sons and fought just as fiercely for what he saw as his own rights and, moreover, he fought against an anointed king. 

Marguerite was trying to defend the throne of England against attack, as was her duty.

Historical research in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries has focused on the study of women and how women have exercised power; gendered analysis has allowed historians to move away from the traditional perception of queens.  Modern scholars look at the restrictions placed upon them and how those limitations impinged upon their political lives.  Marguerite pushed the boundaries of her engendered position; faced with the insurmountable problem of an inefficient consort she was forced to take unpopular actions and has since been judged accordingly. 

Other people have campaigned for thrones, overthrown kings and taken power from weak or incompetent rulers and (with the exception of Richard III) have not been recorded historically as unnatural monsters; the only difference is that they were men. 

Marguerite posed a threat to male rule that the medieval world was unprepared to accept.   A woman out of her prescribed place was deemed ‘unnatural’ and any divergence from the norm considered suspect and therefore dangerous.  Rosaldo clarifies the point in his book Women, Culture and Society,

‘Societies that define woman as lacking legitimate authority have no way of acknowledging the reality of female power.  This difference between rule and reality is reflected in our own society when we speak of powerful women as ‘bitches.’’

Marguerite’s determination and indefatigable resolve to win back her son’s throne was only exhausted by his death. In a man such tenacity would be heroic.  She has been labelled a violent and vengeful woman but surely she was no more so than her male opponents.  The unique circumstances in which she found herself made it impossible to follow prescribed gender boundaries while her opponents remained unfettered.  

Hostile propaganda, perpetuated by male playwrights and Victorian moralists, remains in our consciousness today.  Every day on social media I hear derogatory comments against Marguerite and her contemporary, Margaret Beaufort, but medieval history cannot be judged from a modern perspective and it does nobody any favours to perpetuate the misogyny of the past. 

As was my intention in The Beaufort Chronicle which traces the life of Margaret Beaufort, my novel, Marguerite: Hell Hath No Fury is my own poor attempt to rectify the flawed perception of a brave woman. 

~~~~~

Judith Arnopp – Author Biography

A lifelong history enthusiast and avid reader, Judith holds a BA in English/Creative writing and a Masters in Medieval Studies. She lives on the coast of West Wales where she writes both fiction and non-fiction. She is best known for her novels set in the Medieval and Tudor period, focussing on the perspective of historical women but recently she has written a trilogy from the perspective of Henry VIII himself.

 Judith is also a founder member of a re-enactment group called The Fyne Companye of Cambria which is when and why she began to experiment with sewing historical garments. She now makes clothes and accessories both for the group and others. She is not a professionally trained sewer but through trial, error and determination has learned how to make authentic looking, if not strictly historically accurate clothing. A non-fiction book about Tudor clothing, How to Dress like a Tudor, was published in 2023 by Pen and Sword.

 She runs a small seaside holiday let in Aberporth and when she has time for fun, likes to garden and restore antique doll’s houses. You can find her on most social media platforms.

 Her novels include:

A Song of Sixpence: the story of Elizabeth of York

The Beaufort Chronicle: the life of Lady Margaret Beaufort (three book series)

The Henrician Chronicle: comprising of:

A Matter of Conscience: Henry VIII, the Aragon Years (Book One of The Henrician Chronicle)

A Matter of Faith: Henry VIII, the Days of the Phoenix (Book Two of The Henrician Chronicle)

A Matter of Time: Henry VIII, the Dying of the Light (Book Three of The Henrician Chronicle)

The Kiss of the Concubine: a story of Anne Boleyn

The Winchester Goose: at the court of Henry VIII

Intractable Heart: the story of Katheryn Parr

Sisters of Arden: on the Pilgrimage of Grace

The Heretic Wind: the life of Mary Tudor, Queen of England

Peaceweaver

The Forest Dwellers

The Song of Heledd

The Book of Thornhold

A Daughter of Warwick: the story of Anne Neville, Queen of Richard III

Marguerite: Hell Hath No Fury! 

Webpage: http://www.judithmarnopp.com

Amazon Author Page: author.to/juditharnoppbooks

Blog: www.juditharnoppnovelist.blogspot.co.uk/

Social media links

https://www.facebook.com/thetudorworldofjuditharnopp

https://x.com/JudithArnopp

https://www.threads.net/@tudor_juditharnopp 

Illustrations via WikimediaCommons

Fig 1 - John Talbot, 1st Earl of Shrewsbury, presents the Book of Romances to Margaret of Anjou, Queen to Henry VI 

Fig 2 - Portrait of Marguerite of Anjou (1430 -1482) Queen Consort of England

Fig 3 - John Gilbert - Margaret of Anjou taken prisoner after the battle of Tewkesbury (1875)

Fig 4 - Richard Burchett (1815-1875) - Sanctuary (Edward IV and Lancastrian Fugitives at Tewkesbury Abbey) - 600 - Guildhall Art Gallery

Common Myths of the Wars of the Roses: Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, the ‘Kingmaker’? Part 4

by Derek Birks

This is the final part of my exploration into the notion that Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick, merits the epithet of “kingmaker”. [N.B. Links to the previous 3 parts can be found at the end.]

In the winter of 1469-70, despite an apparent rapprochement with the king, Warwick was contemplating open rebellion. Apart from capitulation, it was his only option: he must replace Edward IV with his own son in law, George, Duke of Clarence.

So, in March 1470, Warwick created a crisis by backing Lord Welles in a local feud with one of the king’s household men, Sir Thomas Burgh. At first, the king was unaware of the involvement of Warwick and Clarence, but when he defeated Welles, he discovered plenty of evidence. Though he summoned the earl and the duke to explain, they refused to come and gathered their forces in the midlands. Warwick hoped for support from his brother, John Neville, Earl of Northumberland, and from Lord Thomas Stanley, the most influential lord in the north-west. Both refused to join him and, without them, he knew he was doomed.

Fleeing south, Warwick and Clarence collected their wives and managed – just – to evade the king’s pursuing army at Dartmouth. From there, after attempting to gather more ships and men at Southampton, they sailed to Calais. But King Edward had already written to Calais and the ships were denied entry, though Warwick’s heavily pregnant daughter Isabel was going into labour and subsequently lost her child.

Warwick had little choice but to head for France and hope for a warm welcome. Another attempt at kingmaking had ended in abject failure.

Warwick’s ships continued along the channel, indulging in some gratuitous piracy against Flemish ships on the way. The earl might have seen this as a windfall, or perhaps he reckoned that action against the Burgundians would ease his entry to a French port. My guess is that he thought it couldn’t hurt his reputation with the French king, Louis XI, when he asked for his protection.

Condemned in England as a traitor, Warwick now faced an ignominious end to his illustrious career, but remarkably, in a matter of months, he managed to resurrect his kingmaking ambitions. How did such an unlikely reversal of fortune come about?

Even before this latest disaster, Warwick surely realised that Clarence was a weak reed so, if he really wanted a change of monarch, he needed a better candidate. One of Warwick’s few remaining assets was his daughter, Anne, and now whoever she married would need to bring something special to the family – preferably a touch of royalty. He needed someone whose name alone would attract men to his banner, which brings us to one of the most interesting volte-faces in English history: Warwick’s pact with his most bitter enemy, Margaret of Anjou.

It is a measure of Warwick’s utter desperation that he was willing to fling aside previous loyalties to mount one last attempt at achieving real power.

Source gallica.bnf.fr / National Library of France

England already had a spare king. The unfortunate Henry VI had been a prisoner of Edward IV since July 1465, but his queen, Margaret of Anjou, had never given up hope of restoring not only her husband but more importantly her son, Edward of Westminster.

If Warwick had ever considered the possibility of reconciliation with Queen Margaret, he must have viewed it as a last resort. Well, in May 1470, the last resort had been reached. Yet, how could the former queen be persuaded to agree to a pact with the man she regarded as the architect of her family’s demise? 

Whilst it is true that Margaret would need a lot of persuading, by spring 1470 with no resources left to her, even the indomitable Margaret was low on optimism. 

Louis XI, known as ‘the universal spider’, was an expert manipulator of people. He knew from Warwick’s diplomatic missions that the earl favoured a French alliance – a policy over which he fell out with King Edward who instead allied himself to Burgundy, France’s enemy. 

This was an alliance King Louis was desperate to break. Thus, between May and July 1470, he brokered negotiations between Warwick and Margaret. He was very persuasive and both parties recognised that it was their last chance. Margaret swallowed her bile and came to terms, doing her best to humiliate the earl in the process; and Warwick, always a better diplomat than soldier, soaked it up on his knees.

At first it was probably just one of many irons in the fire for ‘the spider’, but once it seemed that it might actually happen, he provided money, ships and men – the lifeblood of invasion without which Warwick could have gone nowhere!

One could devote a dozen posts to the subsequent events but since my focus is on the kingmaking, I shall simply note that, against all odds, Warwick succeeded in putting together a coalition of Edward’s enemies, including not only Queen Margaret but the renegade lords: Jasper Tudor – King Henry’s half-brother and John de Vere, Earl of Oxford – a diehard Lancastrian.

Nevertheless, as always, success in England would depend upon the actions of a few key men: his brother John Neville, recently stripped of the earldom of Northumberland; Lord Thomas Stanley and, not least, the Duke of Clarence himself. How would all these individuals react in the crisis that Warwick created?

When Warwick landed in the south-west in September 1470, he proclaimed that he was restoring the rightful king, Henry VI. However dishonest one might feel now that this claim was, there is no doubt that it resonated with some at the time. Bear in mind also that, at this point Edward IV had no male heir whereas Henry VI did. However unlikely it seemed, Warwick had put together what appeared to be an attractive package.

King Edward was in the north stamping out Neville-backed risings, but still confident he could defeat Warwick. However, one by one, his leading nobles joined the rebellion: notably Lord Stanley and the Earl of Shrewsbury - but also crucially, and at the very last minute, Warwick’s brother, John Neville – still smarting from the loss of his earldom. Since he had always remained loyal to Edward, it was a body blow to the king. With Warwick advancing from the south and John Neville close by in the north, the king could only disband his army and flee to his Burgundian ally, Duke Charles. Meanwhile, his pregnant wife, Elizabeth Woodville, took sanctuary with her daughters at Westminster – not for the first, or last, time!

Victorious, Warwick headed for the capital to free a bemused Henry VI and await the return of Queen Margaret and her son, Edward – recently married to Anne Neville. Nevertheless, he faced some tricky problems ahead in managing a hastily-engineered coalition which amounted to an alliance of his enemies. Once Queen Margaret returned, along with some of his most bitter foes, such as Henry Beaufort, Duke of Somerset, he must have feared what would happen. All that though lay in the future, because Queen Margaret was reluctant to take the leap of faith and return to England, beset by her own doubts about the wisdom of trusting Warwick.

Thus, at the heart of Warwick’s alliance lay animosity and mistrust. 

His friends too were nervous: some supporters, notably Stanley and Shrewsbury, received little reward for their vital support. His brother John, risking all to support him, must have been uneasy about his rival in the north, Henry Percy, recently restored to the earldom of Northumberland by Edward IV. If these men harboured doubts about what they had done, those with no love at all for Warwick were just biding their time until Queen Margaret arrived. If enough pressure was applied, would the coalition simply splinter?

The sudden return of Edward IV in March 1471 provided the first test for the new regime. Edward landed with perhaps 500 men, professed loyalty to Henry VI and claimed that he wanted only his dukedom of York. With hindsight of course this seems pretty hard to believe, but at the time it created confusion at a critical moment. Edward’s boldness paralysed his enemies, for though both Northumberland and John Neville could have stopped him in his tracks, neither did.

Battle of Barnet via Wikimedia Commons

Even so, Edward gathered only modest support before he reached the midlands. After all, who would risk all by supporting him? Well, as it turned out, his errant brother, George, Duke of Clarence would. Clarence was the ‘spare thumb’ of Warwick’s regime and was even more worried about his future than Warwick himself. Though the earl might have foreseen it, Clarence’s sudden defection to Edward, taking all his adherents with him, changed everything.

Edward IV hurried to London where he returned the old king to the Tower and prepared to meet Warwick head on. At the resulting battle of Barnet in April, several key advantages lay with Warwick: better artillery and two reliable commanders in his brother, John, and the Earl of Oxford. However, since it was fought in a fog, the outcome might just as well have been settled by the toss of a coin. Yet perhaps it was a fitting end to the chaotic years of plotting and in-fighting from 1469-71.

Warwick not only lost at Barnet, but he was killed, so his kingmaking exploits ended there. Only hours afterwards, Queen Margaret and her son landed at Weymouth. King Edward’s troubles did not end at Barnet, but Warwick’s ambitions did.

Like all his kingmaking attempts, the last was fatally flawed. You could argue that he was unlucky and that, had he won at Barnet, his achievement would have endured. But it was not just bad luck. His last hurrah was built upon a creaking foundation and, in his desperation, Warwick ignored vital flaws - not least the very real problem of what to do with Clarence. Clarence, as they say, ‘voted with his feet’.

If ever there was a tragic figure in English history, it is Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick. One of the great men of his age, he promised much, but was destroyed by his own pride and ambition. He was not the only English nobleman to perish in that way during the medieval period, but he was certainly one of the most notable.

For me, there is no occasion when Warwick justifies the name “kingmaker”, for he made no-one king. In every case, other factors were more important than the role of Warwick himself and even the readeption of Henry VI proved so fragile that it barely lasted a few anxious months. The image of Warwick, the kingmaker, belongs only in the pages of historical fiction.

To read the earlier 3 parts of this theme, click on the links below:

Part 1;   Part 2;   Part 3 

____________________________________________________________________________

Derek Birks was born in Hampshire in England but spent his teenage years in Auckland, New Zealand, where he still has strong family ties.

For many years he taught history in a secondary school but took early retirement to concentrate on writing. Apart from his writing, he spends his time gardening, travelling, walking and taking part in archaeological digs at a Roman villa. Derek is interested in a wide range of historical themes but his particular favourite is the late medieval period. He writes action-packed fiction which is rooted in accurate history.

His debut historical novel was Feud, which is set in the period of the Wars of the Roses. Feud is the first of a now complete four-book series, entitled Rebels & Brothers, which follows the fortunes of the fictional Elder family from 1459 to 1471.

A new series, The Craft of Kings, picks up the story of the Elders in 1481 in its first book, Scars from the Past. In February 2018, the violent events of 1483 are played out in the sequel, The Blood of Princes.

Website: www.derekbirks.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Feud_writer

Amazon author sites: amazon.co.uk; amazon.com

Bad Queens - Part II

by Danielle Marchant

On Sunday 7th September 1533, Elizabeth, daughter of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, was born at 3 o’clock in the afternoon at Greenwich Palace. This was supposed to be a happy occasion, but there was one detail that cast a shadow over this important event.

The baby was a girl.

Both her mother and father were disappointed that she was a girl. Up until now, all of the best astrologers and doctors had predicted a boy. Henry had spent time wondering whether to call his son Edward or Henry and was making plans for the celebratory tournament. Anne had even seen in advance the letter announcing the birth. In the letter, it gave thanks to God for sending her “good speed, in the deliverance and bringing forth of a prince”.

However, as soon as the baby girl was born, Henry decided to name her Elizabeth, after his mother Elizabeth of York, instead. The tournament was cancelled and the letter announcing the birth was slightly altered with an extra “s”, giving thanks to God for the birth of a “princes”.

Why was there so much disappointment over the baby being a girl? The reason for this was that at the time, there was a fear of having a female ruler. A history of what has been perceived as a series of “Bad Queens” had made it all the more important for the heir to the throne to be a boy, to keep the stability of the country. Henry had even divorced his first wife, Catherine of Aragon and had broken away from the Catholic Church because of Catherine’s failure in producing a healthy, male heir - despite the fact that they did have a healthy daughter, Mary.

Here is a part II of a list of Queens that helped to create the climate of fear of having another female ruler… (Read Part I HERE)

The Queens in the Wars of the Roses

Just over four decades before Princess Elizabeth’s birth in 1533, the country was torn apart by civil war between the House of York and the House of Lancaster, in the Wars of the Roses that lasted nearly thirty years. Around the time of Elizabeth’s birth, there may have still been many old enough to remember what they had seen, and this made it all the more important for the current generation to maintain peace. There were two main Queens in this civil war who became focus points for both Houses and helped to exasperate the situation even more. The series of events and the roles these two Queens played would definitely have helped to contribute to the climate of fear of not wanting another female ruler in the Tudor period:

1. Margaret of Anjou

Like Queen Isabella a century before her, Margaret was another French princess, who married Henry VI in 1445. In Shakespeare’s Henry VI Part 3, she was famously named the “She-Wolf” of France, and that her “tiger’s heart wrapped in a woman’s hide”.

Margaret was niece by marriage to the French King, Charles VII. The marriage caused controversy because no dowry had been given to the English Crown for Margaret by the French. Alternatively, they agreed that Charles VII, who was at war with Henry V in The Hundred Years' War in France, would have the lands of Maine and Anjou returned to France. This caused friction in the King’s council.

A breakdown in law and order, corruption, the distribution of royal land to the king's court favourites, and the continuous loss of land in France meant Henry and Margaret’s reign was an unpopular one. Returning troops, who had often not been paid, contributed to the anarchy and triggered a rebellion led by Jack Cade. Henry lost Normandy in 1450 and later lost other French territories, leaving only Calais untouched.

It is believed that this loss of French territory contributed to Henry’s nervous breakdown, which modern Doctors would probably diagnose as Catatonic Schizophrenia. Margaret gave birth to their only son, Edward of Lancaster, in 1453. However, given Henry’s mental state, this fuelled rumours that the son was not his; he believed that he would have been incapable of fathering a child and that the baby was actually the result of an affair between Margaret and one of her favourites. Edmund Beaufort 1st Duke of Somerset, or James Butler Earl of Wiltshire were considered to be possible fathers. Nevertheless, Henry accepted the son as his own.

While Henry remained for some weeks in a catatonic stupor, Margaret had to rule in his place. The kingdom found difficulty in having to cope without a king, but Margaret was ruthless and called for a Great Council in May 1455. This council excluded Richard Duke of York, and this sparked the series of battles between the Houses of York and Lancaster. Margaret attempted to raise support for the Lancastrian cause and subsequently, Lancaster was victorious at the Battle of Wakefield and of St Albans.

However, they were defeated by York at the Battle of Towton, in 1461. Edward, son of Richard Duke of York (who had been beheaded at the Battle of Wakefield) overthrew King Henry VI and proclaimed himself Edward IV. Margaret then fled to Scotland with her son and remained there, plotting her return.

2. Elizabeth Woodville

Elizabeth was the eldest of twelve children and spent her early life in relative obscurity in Grafton Regis, Northamptonshire. Even though her mother was Jacquetta, Dowager Duchess of Bedford and her father was Sir Richard Woodville, she was considered to be a “commoner” by her contemporaries. Her first husband, Sir John Grey, was killed at the Battle of St Albans, leaving her a widow with two sons.

It is believed that around the summer of 1464, Elizabeth heard that Edward VI was hunting in Whittlewood Forest. She waited for him under a tree (which was later called the “Queen’s Oak”), holding her two sons tightly. The King then rode by and she allegedly threw herself at his feet, begging him for help with the Grey family inheritance. According to the story, Edward was so struck by her “mournful beauty” that he fell in love with her and assumed she would just agree to be his mistress. However, she refused to be his mistress, even when a dagger was put to her throat (according to some interpretations of the story, she produced the dagger herself and put it to her own throat).

Her refusal to give in to him, unless he married her, increased his passion for her even more. They married in secret on Mayday in 1464. Only her mother, a Priest, probably two others and “a young man who helped the Priest sing” were present. It is believed that Elizabeth and Edward continued to meet in secret with the help of Jacquetta (who even managed to hide the secret marriage from her husband) until September, when the Council met in Reading. Here, Edward was being coerced into a marriage with Bona of Savoy, sister-in-law to the French King. Edward then had to admit the truth about his relationship with Elizabeth.

The news was a bombshell. Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick – also known as “The Kingmaker” – who had helped Edward take the throne, responded angrily to the clandestine marriage. He had negotiated for the hand of Lady Bona, and her marriage to Edward would have helped to forge an alliance between the House of York and one of the greatest Houses of Europe, helping to replenish the dwindling treasury with a generous dowry. Warwick’s anger at not being consulted on such an important matter would have been understandable.

Elizabeth was crowned Queen in May 1465. However, refusing to accept the marriage, Warwick fell out with Edward. Warwick later formed an alliance with Margaret of Anjou. Together, they overthrew Edward and restored Henry VI to the throne. In addition, Warwick’s daughter, Anne Neville, was married to Margaret's son Edward in December 1470.

Their success was brief, as Margaret was taken prisoner by York after being defeated at the Battle of Tewkesbury, in May 1471, where her son Edward was killed. Soon afterwards in the same year, Warwick was killed in the Battle of Barnet by Edward VI’s forces.

Since her marriage to Edward, however, Elizabeth was plagued with rumours of being a “sorceress”, having bewitched Edward into marriage. When Edward died in 1483, his brother Richard seized the throne, accusing her of having bewitched his brother into a bigamous marriage. As a result, Elizabeth’s marriage was declared invalid, and her two sons were taken into the Tower of London by their uncle Richard, after which they mysteriously disappeared.

It is possible that she may have plotted against Henry VII, who married her daughter Elizabeth of York. It is believed that she may have conspired with rebels in the Simnel rebellion. Subsequently, she was sent to live in Bermondsey Abbey, where she died in June 1492. She was allowed only occasional visits to court, and all her lands were transferred to Elizabeth of York.

Therefore, it is understandable that this history of “Bad Queens” (or those perceived to be “Bad Queens”) would have made the news of Princess Elizabeth’s birth in 1533 most unwelcome news. However, as we know, Elizabeth grew up to become Queen Elizabeth I. Elizabeth was one of the most successful rulers in English history, and her reign was called “The Golden Age”. Not a “Bad Queen” at all and all fears of another female ruler had been unfounded.

Images:

Margaret of Anjou (British Library Royal)
Elizabeth Woodville, possibly a copy of a lost original (Master and Fellows of Queen's College, Cambridge)

Sources and further reading:

Elizabeth – David Starkey, 2001
Eleanor of Aquitaine – By the Wrath of God, Queen of England – Alison Weir, 2000
Blood Sisters – The Women Behind the Wars of the Roses – Sarah Gristwood, 2013
Anne Neville – Queen to Richard III – Michael Hicks, 2007
Elizabeth Woodville – Mother of the Princes in the Tower – David Baldwin, 2012.
She-Wolves: the Women Who Ruled England Before Elizabeth - Helen Castor, 2011
www.bbc.co.uk/history
www.historyextra.com
www.philippagregory.com

~~~~~~~~~~

Danielle Marchant is an Independent Author from London, UK. Parts 1, 2 and 3 of her series of historical novellas based on Jane Boleyn Lady Rochford’s life, The Lady Rochford Saga, are available now:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B077PRF6F9/ref=series_rw_dp_sw

Visit her pages at https://www.facebook.com/TheLadyRochfordSaga and at http://danielleliannem.wix.com/janeboleyn.

Bad Queens - Part I

By Danielle Marchant

On Sunday 7th September 1533, Elizabeth, daughter of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, was born at 3 o’clock in the afternoon at Greenwich Palace. This was supposed to be a happy occasion, but there was one detail that cast a shadow over this important event.

The baby was a girl.

Both her mother and father were disappointed that she was a girl. Up until now, all of the best astrologers and doctors had predicted a boy. Henry had spent time wondering whether to call his son Edward or Henry and was making plans for the celebratory tournament. Anne had even seen in advance the letter announcing the birth. In the letter, it gave thanks to God for sending her “good speed, in the deliverance and bringing forth of a prince”.

However, as soon as the baby girl was born, Henry decided to name her Elizabeth, after his mother Elizabeth of York, instead. The tournament was cancelled and the letter announcing the birth was slightly altered with an extra “s”, giving thanks to God for the birth of a “princes”.

Why was there so much disappointment over the baby being a girl? The reason for this was that at the time, there was a fear of having a female ruler. A history of what has been perceived as a series of “Bad Queens” had made it all the more important for the heir to the throne to be a boy, to keep the stability of the country. Henry had even divorced his first wife, Catherine of Aragon and had broken away from the Catholic Church because of Catherine’s failure in producing a healthy, male heir - despite the fact that they did have a healthy daughter, Mary.

Here is a part I of a list of Queens that helped to create the climate of fear of having another female ruler… (part II tomorrow)

Queen Boudicca (died circa AD 60)

Boudicca was maybe not necessarily a “Bad Queen”, but her reign was definitely not a quiet and peaceful one. She ruled over the Iceni people of Eastern England and led a major uprising against occupying Roman forces. She was married to Prasutagus, ruler of the Iceni people of East Anglia.

When the Romans conquered southern England in AD 43, they allowed Prasutagus to continue to rule. However, when Prasutagus died, the Romans decided to rule the Iceni directly. They confiscated the property of the leading tribesmen. It is also believed that they stripped and thrashed Boudicca and raped her daughters. These actions helped to intensify widespread hatred at Roman rule.

In 60 or 61 AD, while the Roman governor, Gaius Suetonius Paullinus, was leading a campaign in North Wales, the Iceni rebelled with the help of members from other tribes.

Boudicca's warriors successfully defeated the Roman Ninth Legion and destroyed the capital of Roman Britain, which as the time was in Colchester. They went on to destroy London and Verulamium (St Albans). Thousands were killed. Finally, Boudicca was defeated by a Roman army led by Paulinus. Many Britons were killed, and Boudicca is thought to have poisoned herself to avoid capture. Where the battle had taken place and the site of Boudicca's death are unknown.

Empress Matilda

Once again, she was probably not exactly a “Bad Queen” (and Matilda was never crowned a Queen either), but it was down to the fact that she was a woman and the resulting dispute over her disregarded claim to the throne that led to years of civil war. Empress Matilda was the granddaughter of William the Conqueror and daughter of Henry I. She is known today as the Lady of the English, having never been crowned queen. She was married for a short time to the Holy Roman Emperor and was the rightful heir to the throne. If she had become Queen, she would have been the first reigning queen of England in 1135, being descended from Norman, Scottish, and English (Saxon) kings. However, on her father’s death in 1135 – and partly because she was a woman – her cousin Stephen of Blois seized the throne.

Like Matilda, Stephen was a grandchild of William the Conqueror. He had, on at least two occasions, promised Henry I to support Matilda as Queen of England, as had all other nobles in the realm. But after Henry died, Stephen claimed Henry made these promises under coercion and that Henry had named Stephen as his successor. In spite of this, the nobles and the Pope supported Stephen’s claim to the throne, and he became King of the English and Duke of Normandy, which was another title he had inherited from Henry I.

However, his reign was not a peaceful one, and this was the start of almost 20 years of civil war. Within four years of Stephen’s accession, Matilda had gathered a force to challenge him for the crown. She had a lot of political support, because along with other estranged nobles, she also had her husband, who was one of the most powerful nobles in France, Geoffrey, Count of Anjou.

In 1141, she was in London and was ready to be crowned. However, within a few months Stephen ruined her chances and forced Matilda out before the coronation occurred. In spite of this, Matilda’s supporters continued to fight for her claim by challenging Stephen. However, neither she, nor they could win and to make matters worse, her husband Geoffrey never sent a major force to England to assist them.

However, Geoffrey did eventually force out Stephen from Normandy and then, took over as its Duke. Geoffrey and Matilda had a son, Henry, who Geoffrey named Duke of Normandy in 1150. Henry inherited the titles and lands as Count of Anjou following his father’s death in 1151.

With the support of his mother, Henry claimed the English throne from Stephen. Eventually, Henry and King Stephen made an agreement that Henry would be the heir to the throne after Stephen died, even superseding the claims of Stephen’s son, Eustace. This ended the civil war. Within two years, both Eustace and Stephen’s wives were dead, and Stephen was forced to relinquish the crown to Henry. In 1154, Stephen died of natural causes and was succeeded by Matilda’s son, King Henry II.

Eleanor of Aquitaine

Eleanor was one of the most powerful and controversial women of the Middle Ages. She was beautiful, intelligent and headstrong. There were rumours about her in her lifetime, but definitely within reason and her contemporaries were shocked by her behaviour. Eleanor was the elder daughter of William, tenth Duke of Aquitaine. She was raised in one of Europe's most cultured courts and given an excellent education. She later became an important patron of poets and writers. It was also a relaxed and licentious place, where the arts of the troubadours thrived, and she even presided over the fabled Courts of Love.

In 1137, both her only brother and her father died, leaving her with a vast inheritance. At just the age of 15, she became the most eligible heiress in Europe. That same year, she married Louis, heir to Louis VI of France, who shortly afterwards became King Louis VII. The couple had two daughters.

In 1147, Eleanor accompanied her husband on the Second Crusade, travelling to Constantinople and Jerusalem. The Crusade was a failure. The relationship between Eleanor and her husband – which was already in a vulnerable state - worsened even more. Eleanor failed to produce a son, and this added to the tension. In 1152, they were divorced.

Two months later Eleanor married Henry of Anjou, who in 1154 became King of England. The couple had five sons and three daughters. For nearly twenty years, Eleanor played an active part in the running of Henry's empire, and she travelled back and forth between their territories in England and France.

In 1173, two of Eleanor's sons involved her in a plot against their father. Subsequently, Henry imprisoned her. After Henry's death in 1189, his eldest son, Richard I, ordered his mother's release. Despite her age (at this point, she would have been in her mid-sixties), Eleanor played a major part in government. In 1190, she acted as regent in England when Richard went to join the Third Crusade. She even played her part in negotiations for his release after he was taken prisoner in Germany on his way home.

Queen Isabella

Queen Isabella was the wife of Edward II. Isabella is definitely viewed as a “Bad Queen” because she helped to remove her husband from the throne, alongside her lover Roger Mortimer, one of Edward’s enemies. Edward was later imprisoned and murdered. In addition, Isabella’s reign alongside Mortimer was a failure.

Edward became King in July 1307. On his accession, he immediately recalled his favourite, Piers Gaveston from exile, whom his father, Edward I, had banished to France for having a bad influence on his son. Gaveston was given the earldom of Cornwall, which had previously been a title conferred on royalty.

This act sparked opposition to the king and his favourite. In 1311, the nobles issued the “Ordinances”. This was an attempt to restrict royal control of finance and appointments. Gaveston was twice exiled at the demand of the barons, but returned to England soon afterwards. In 1312, he was captured and executed by the barons.

In 1314, Edward invaded Scotland. He was defeated by Robert the Bruce at Bannockburn. Power was now in the hands of the barons led by Edward's cousin, Thomas of Lancaster, who by 1315 made himself the real ruler of England. Yet Lancaster did very little to pledge reform and as a result, some areas of the country collapsed into anarchy.

By 1318, Edward and Lancaster did resolve some issues between them, but the king had two new favourites - Hugh le Despenser and his son. When Edward supported the two Despensers' ambitions in Wales, a group of barons banished both father and son. This made Edward want to fight back. Edward defeated Lancaster - who had begged the Scots to help him - at Boroughbridge in March 1322. He executed him and recalled the Despensers, with whom he now ruled.

This is where Isabella comes in, because at this point, she emerged as a focus for Edward’s enemies. In 1325, she was sent on a diplomatic mission to France. There she met and became the mistress of Roger Mortimer, an exiled opponent of Edward. In September 1326, they invaded England. Fortunately for them, there was almost no resistance. The Despensers were captured and executed, and Edward was overthrown in favour of his and Isabella's son, who was crowned Edward III in January 1327. Edward II was imprisoned at Berkeley Castle and murdered there.

As Edward III was still a minor, the country was ruled by Queen Isabella and Roger Mortimer. However, their reign was as bad as Edward II’s. They had even gone so far as to recognize Robert the Bruce as the King of Scots, something even Edward wouldn’t do.

As soon as Edward reached the age of 18 in 1330, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He had Mortimer arrested, but instead of having him killed straight-away, Edward had Mortimer tried for treason in Parliament. Despite Queen Isabella’s protest, Mortimer was then hanged.

Isabella, however, escaped such a similar fate when Edward allowed her to retire from public life for the rest of her life. She died in 1358.

Tomorrow, Part II will explore the lives of the 'Bad Queens' of the Wars of the Roses...


Sources and further reading:
Elizabeth – David Starkey, 2001
Eleanor of Aquitaine – By the Wrath of God, Queen of England – Alison Weir, 2000
Blood Sisters – The Women Behind the Wars of the Roses – Sarah Gristwood, 2013
Anne Neville – Queen to Richard III – Michael Hicks, 2007
Elizabeth Woodville – Mother of the Princes in the Tower – David Baldwin, 2012.
She-Wolves: the Women Who Ruled England Before Elizabeth - Helen Castor, 2011
www.bbc.co.uk/history
www.historyextra.com
www.philippagregory.com

~~~~~~~~~~

Danielle Marchant is an Independent Author from London, UK. Parts 1, 2 and 3 of her series of historical novellas based on Jane Boleyn Lady Rochford’s life, The Lady Rochford Saga, are available now:
https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B077PRF6F9/ref=series_rw_dp_sw

Visit her pages at https://www.facebook.com/TheLadyRochfordSaga and at http://danielleliannem.wix.com/janeboleyn.

Henry VI: Part Two

by Derek Birks

Henry VI

At the end of my first post about Henry VI (click here for Part One), I posed the question: would Henry VI learn from his mistakes? 

I think you might already suspect the answer but let’s give him the benefit of the doubt and see what he does after 1450.

King's College, Cambridge: Endowed by Henry VI

After the failure of Cade’s rebellion in 1450, Henry was given another chance to get it right. Up to 1450 his rule was characterised by the three Ps: prayer, piety and peace which underpinned not only his spiritual life but also his kingship. There is nothing wrong with the three Ps at all, except that a successful king had to consider other aspects of life too. Most medieval kings thought prayer and piety very important, but they also knew they must understand what their subjects – especially their leading subjects – wanted from them.

I don’t believe Henry was a fool but I do think he was an idealist. In fact, the influence of his ideals on his policies meant that at times of crisis he sometimes made the wrong call. I see this as perhaps the most important failure of his disastrous reign.

What factors dominated politics after 1450?

By 1450 Henry had been married to Margaret of Anjou for five years without producing an heir to the throne. A male heir is what every king needed. Though it has been suggested that Henry’s apparent awkwardness with the naked body made his marital relations difficult, it seems to me that Henry took his royal duties seriously enough.

Of course, if Henry did not have a child then the crown would most likely pass to Richard, Duke of York. When, in the troubled summer of 1450, most of Henry’s inner circle of advisers were killed, rebel manifestos already argued that the Duke of York should play a greater role in advising the king. Yet York had been recalled from France in 1447 and sent to Ireland where he was very far indeed from the political epicentre.

Clearly Henry mistrusted or feared the Duke of York but, up to 1447, York appears to have been a loyal crown servant. Supplanting York as a commander in France was Edmund Beaufort, Duke of Somerset – a man with modest qualifications as a military leader. After the rebellion in 1450, Somerset was brought home and became a close royal confidant.

Beaufort was not just any old peer. His family, like those of the king and York, was descended from Edward III. He was closer in blood to Henry than York was, though barred from the succession by letters patent of Henry IV. We do not know whether Henry wanted to restore the Beaufort line to the succession, but he must have considered the possibility and York saw Somerset as a clear rival. No, not just a rival; he was the enemy, for he was receiving the very rewards that York believed his status warranted, whilst York had acquired only debts from his government service.

How did the Rivalry between York and Somerset cause Henry problems?

Henry probably thought it best to leave York in Ireland – out of sight, if not entirely out of mind – but I fear he should have paid attention to the maxim: ‘Keep your friends close but your enemies closer.’

As I’ve pointed out in a previous post, Richard, Duke of York, took his position in the state very seriously indeed and whilst he remained loyal to the king, he did not wish to see his status eroded by the presence of Edmund Beaufort at court. He must have been spitting blood in Ireland, looking on during Cade’s rebellion as Henry’s government floundered.

So, in September 1450 York returned to England without Henry’s permission and arrived at Westminster with a large retinue. He had come, he said, to proclaim his loyalty and offer himself publicly as the man to lead the king’s government and remove corruption. This was a popular, if rather elusive - and illusory - aim. York waged a propaganda war against Somerset, posing as the champion of justice. He called in favours from his many clients, raising their hopes of gaining advancement in a ‘new order’ with York at the helm. His influence in parliament was especially strong but sadly parliaments were called only at the bidding of the king.

How did Henry respond to York’s Challenge?

Henry, not unreasonably I would suggest, issued a response which declined York’s kind offer and emphasised that he preferred the collective advice of a council to that of one man.

Whilst this sounds laudable enough, it did not stop Somerset’s rise and his appointment in 1451 as Captain of Calais gave him access to a powerful military garrison. Yet, at the same time, the war with France went from bad to worse and soon Gascony was lost.

By February 1452, York had had enough. Action was required and he launched another propaganda campaign to muster support. A surviving letter from the Duke of York to the folk of Shrewsbury shows us clearly his attitude to both the king and Somerset. He cited the: “envy, malice and untruth of the Duke of Somerset” and stressed: “it not being my intent to displease my sovereign lord, but seeing that the said duke ever prevaileth and ruleth about the king’s person and that by this means the land is likely to be destroyed, I am fully determined to proceed in all haste against him with the help of my kinsmen and friends.”

However you dress it up, York was talking rebellion. He raised an army and camped at Dartford. The king also raised an army and camped at Blackheath. This is 1452 remember – before the first battle at St Albans in 1455 which is often regarded as the start of the Wars of the Roses. Two armed camps then, with cannons and so on, but no battle. Why not? Well mainly because York’s support amongst those who mattered – i.e. lords – was minimal. Those we know as the great Yorkist supporters of a few years later, the earls of Salisbury and Warwick, were firmly in the king’s camp. Besides, no-one really had the stomach for a fight. The councillors talked York out of it in the end and, on a promise that Somerset would be arrested and put on trial, York capitulated. However, having disbanded his army, he found that Somerset was neither arrested nor tried.

Whether by luck, good judgement or the diplomacy of the Neville lords, Henry had averted rebellion. Yet, had the Duke of York not committed open treason and escaped unpunished?

Herein lay a critical failure of Henry VI: he did not have a ruthless bone in his body. York walked free having brought the kingdom to the brink of chaos. Was this because Henry was a simpleton? No. Was it because he was in the thrall of Somerset? Hardly! It was the three Ps again. Henry wanted peace between his warring factions. A more ruthless man, a more pragmatic king, would have realised that York had overstepped too far and had to go. One could say it was admirable on Henry’s part, but it was a genuine political risk to leave such a powerful man at large. For the time being York went away to lick his wounds, whilst Somerset found ways of punishing his followers if not the man himself.

If York was humiliated and rebellion averted, what went wrong?

Margaret of Anjou from the Talbot Shrewsbury Book

In the latter part of 1452, things were actually looking up for Henry with victories in France and then in the spring of 1453 came the news that Queen Margaret was finally pregnant. It seemed Henry’s fortunes had turned, but it was not to be. In July the English army in France was annihilated at Castillon and its heroic general, the Earl of Shrewsbury, killed.

Shortly after this catastrophe, the king himself suffered a breakdown. Perhaps it was prompted by news of the defeat, or perhaps by the reality of his wife’s pregnancy, but in truth we’ll never know. It may just have been lying in wait in his genes ready to pop out and cause maximum disaster – well it certainly did that!

Henry was incapable of movement, let alone thought. In a personal monarchy this meant there was a vacuum at the centre of power. Nothing important could be done without the king’s approval, so effectively nothing important could be done… For two months the king’s condition was kept secret but that could not go on forever. It’s ironic in a way that despite all the frequent criticisms of Henry’s weakness or folly, it is his absence that propels the government of England into the abyss.

In mid-October 1453 the queen gave birth to a son, the heir Henry so desperately needed. But later in October the King’s Council met to discuss what to do about Henry’s condition. Somerset clearly intended to rule as some sort of regent, hoping that the council would be swayed in his favour by York’s previous misdemeanours. If York was allowed to return to the council, there would not be room for both of them.

In 1452 York was isolated but in the year since then, far away from the royal court, something very important had happened: York had found some powerful friends.

This new development will be the focus of my next post in this series, which will focus on Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick.

Previous posts in the series, see The Magnificent Seven...in the War of the Roses, and Henry VI: Part One.

Media:
Henry VI: By Unknown - National Portrait Gallery: NPG 2457 [Public Domain]
King's College Chapel, Cambridge: By Dmitry Tonkonog (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0], via Wikimedia Commons
Margaret of Anjou: By Talbot Master (fl. in Rouen, c. 1430–60) - Cropped image of File:Presentation of the Book of Romances.jpg, a scan of the manuscript illuminated by the Talbot Master (British Library, Royal 15 E VI, f. 2v), Public Domain

~~~~~~~~~~

Derek Birks was born in Hampshire in England but spent his teenage years in Auckland, New Zealand, where he still has strong family ties. For many years he taught history in a secondary school but took early retirement to concentrate on writing. Apart from his writing, he spends his time gardening, travelling, walking and taking part in archaeological digs at a Roman villa.

Derek is interested in a wide range of historical themes but his particular favourite is the late medieval period. He writes action-packed fiction which is rooted in accurate history. His debut historical novel, Feud, is set in the period of the Wars of the Roses and is the first of a series entitled Rebels & Brothers which follows the fortunes of the fictional Elder family. The fourth and final book of the series, The Last Shroud, was published in the summer of 2015.

The Elders will return in Scars from the Past, the first of a new series, in November 2016.

Connect with Derek through his Website, Blog, and Twitter (@Feud_writer). The Rebels & Brothers series is available on Amazon UK and Amazon.com.