Queens of the Conquest

England's Medieval Queens #1

by Alison Weir

The story of England’s medieval queens is vivid and stirring, packed with tragedy, high drama and even comedy. It is a chronicle of love, murder, war and betrayal, filled with passion, intrigue and sorrow, peopled by a cast of heroines, villains, stateswomen and lovers. In the first volume of this epic new series, Alison Weir strips away centuries of romantic mythology and prejudice to reveal the lives of England’s queens in the century after the Norman Conquest.

Beginning with Matilda of Flanders, who supported William the Conqueror in his invasion of England in 1066, and culminating in the turbulent life of the Empress Maud, who claimed to be queen of England in her own right and fought a bitter war to that end, the five Norman queens emerge as hugely influential figures and fascinating characters.

Much more than a series of individual biographies, Queens of the Conquest is a seamless tale of interconnected lives and a rich portrait of English history in a time of flux. In Alison Weir’s hands these five extraordinary women reclaim their rightful roles at the centre of English history.

Genres: History, Nonfiction, Biography, Medieval, Historical, British Literature, Audiobook

468 pages, Hardcover

First published September 26, 2017

About the author

Librarian Note: There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name.

Alison Weir is an English writer of history books for the general public, mostly in the form of biographies about British kings and queens, and of historical fiction. Before becoming an author, Weir worked as a teacher of children with special needs. She received her formal training in history at teacher training college. She currently lives in Surrey, England, with her two children.

Reviews

[☘Misericordia☘ ⚡ϟ⚡⛈⚡☁ ❇️❤❣ · Rating 5 out of 5]

I love how well-referenced and multilayered was the review of all the facts and myths, however fragmented by time. While it goes with the territory that the historian in question has to make certain assumptions, Weir never went out of hand with her deductions and tried to keep rooted in fact rather than fiction. And the fiction, it got to be heard in just such a way as not to prevent the factology from prevailing.
A very well-balanced and properly researched study of medieval royal females. Another thing that I loved is how accessibly for a layperson the material is presented: terms explained, dates given, explanations provided. So anybody who's not a history buff with all the dates memorised by heart gets a chance to understand the context.
Q: Few people in Norman times were ignorant of the story of Eve, who disobeyed God by tempting Adam, and so brought about the Fall of Man. Thanks to Eve, women were seen to be weak and foolish—but they also had power and might use it unwisely. The late eleventh and early twelfth centuries, however, saw a remarkable improvement in perceptions of women, with the spread of the cult of the Virgin Mary from the East to western Europe. This was due to various factors: returning crusaders, the preaching of great theologians like St. Bernard of Clairvaux, and the adoption of Mary by the new monastic Cistercian Order as their patron saint, although the dedication of many churches to Mary in eleventh-century Normandy shows that the mother of Jesus was already widely venerated there, as she had in fact been for centuries in the West. The cult was fostered by churchmen close to Henry I,3 who reigned from 1100 to 1135. As Mary came to be worshipped more widely for her virginal, maternal and wifely purity, and as the Queen of Heaven, so women who personified the Marian virtues were revered by society generally, and queens themselves, her earthly counterparts, began to be seen as the idealized mirror of the Virgin Mary, and to be invested with symbolic virginity. It has been suggested that queens came to be regarded as the earthly personification of the Virgin, just as kings were seen as vicars of Christ. Expectations of queenliness were therefore almost supernaturally high. (c)
Q: It was seen as incumbent on a wife—and still more on a queen—to encourage her husband to patronize religious institutions and be charitable. In this period, every queen was a benefactress of the Church in one way or another, and most laid up treasure in Heaven for themselves or their loved ones by founding or endowing religious houses. In so doing, they not only sought the protection of the saints to whom these houses were dedicated, but also placed themselves at the forefront of the new monastic movements that dominated the age. Some queens became involved in debates about the burning spiritual issues of the day. All were expected to be the epitome of holy virtue. Wealth was deemed a privilege, and those who had it were expected to share it as alms with those less fortunate than themselves, thereby obtaining some spiritual benefit, since charity was an act of contrition that freed one from sin. Thus queens set aside money for their charities. They aided the poor and the sick, made offerings at shrines, and endowed or founded churches, religious houses and hospitals.
Queens were the gentler face of monarchy, exercising a civilizing influence on their husbands, protecting their joint interests, taking compassion on the poor, the sick, widows, orphans and those in prison. They were applauded when they used their feminine influence to intercede with the King in favor of those facing a harsh fate, thus enabling him to rescind a decision without losing face. Many instances of queens using their influence probably went largely unrecorded, for a queen enjoyed a unique advantage over other petitioners due to her intimate relationship with the King. If she interceded with her husband it was usually in private, so it can be hard to assess the extent of it. The medieval ideal of queenship constrained her to a role that was essentially decorous, symbolic and dynastic. She was to be beautiful—officially, even if not in actuality—devout, fertile and kind: the traditional good queen.(c)
Q: Agatha’s grieving mother and father may well have shared the sentiments of a contemporary Byzantine historian, Michael Psellus, whose oration on the death of his daughter proves that, even in an age of high infant mortality, the death of a child was mourned no less than it is now: “O my child, formerly so beautiful and now a frightful sight to see! Go then on that good eternal journey and rest in those heavenly places. Reveal yourself in our dreams as you were prior to your illness, bringing solace to our hearts. You will thus bring joy to your parents, and they may recover a little from this heavy sorrow. Nothing is stronger than Nature; nor is there anything more calamitous than the loss of a child.” (c)
Q: From around 1080 to 1086, her youngest son, Henry, appears to have lived in England in the care of the saintly Osmund, Bishop of Salisbury, a Norman nobleman who had taken holy orders and served as lord chancellor to the King, to whom he was related by marriage. It was probably under Osmund’s auspices that Henry received the excellent education that would stand him in good stead in later life. “The early years of instruction he passed in liberal arts, and thoroughly imbibed the sweets of learning.” Possibly, since he was the youngest son, he was intended for a career in the Church, for which education was primarily regarded as a preparation. In an age in which kings were illiterate, Henry even learned to read and write Latin, and from the fourteenth century was nicknamed “Beauclerc” because of his famed literary skills. As he grew up, he often quoted, “in his father’s hearing, the proverb, ‘An illiterate king is a crowned ass.’ ” William did not take offense. “Observing his son’s disposition, the King never omitted any means of cherishing his lively prudence; and once, when he had been ill-used by one of his brothers, and was in tears, he spirited him up by saying, ‘Weep not, my boy, you too will be a king.’  (c)
Q: thus:
No prosperous state did make her glad,
Nor adverse chances made her sad.
If Fortune frowned, she then did smile,
If Fortune smiled, she feared the while.
If beauty tempted, she said nay,
No pride she took in sceptre’s sway.
She only high her self debased,
A lady only fair and chaste. (c)
Q: When the King had a bath, the ewerer received 4d. except on the great feasts of the year, which suggests that royalty bathed regularly—although how often is not known. In the early twelfth century King John had eight baths a year. (c)
Q: Later it would become customary for queens to be attended only by women during their confinements, setting a trend that would see men banished from birthing chambers for centuries, but in this period it was acceptable for male physicians to be in attendance, although it was recommended that they avoided looking the mother in the face, as women “were accustomed to be shamed by that during and after birth.” (c)
Q: The chroniclers struggled with the young lady’s name, giving it variously as Adeliza, Adelid(a), Adelicia, Adela, Adala, Adelaide, Adelheite, Adeline, Adelina, Aeliz, Aethelice, Aleyda, Alice, Alicia, Aaliz and Adelidis. To Flemish and Provençal poets, she was Alise, Adelais or “Alix la Belle.” (c)
Q: In 1119, Henry had celebrated the marriage of his heir, William, to Mahaut of Anjou, and in 1120 he created him duke of Normandy. The young Duke was no unifier of peoples like his father; he was heard to boast, “When I am king, I will yoke the English like oxen to the plow.” His future subjects were spared such a fate. (c)
Q: ... Blanche-Nef—the White Ship... “No ship was ever productive of so much misery. None was ever so notorious in the history of the world.” (c)
Q: To compensate Bishop Roger, the King had invited him to perform the ceremony, and the wily Bishop began the service early in the morning, hoping to preempt the Archbishop. But the avenging Primate tottered in halfway through the proceedings, just as the Queen had been crowned and Bishop Roger had placed the king’s crown on Henry’s head. The Archbishop promptly snatched it off, and put it on again with his own hands before re-crowning Adeliza, but then collapsed with exhaustion and had to ask Bishop Roger to complete the service after all. Adeliza maintained her dignity, her “beauty dazzling her diadem.” (c)
Q: The earliest known English carving of the coronation of the Virgin Mary was found at Reading Abbey, suggesting that the King and his family were devotees of the spreading cult of Mary.
Q: Maud was now twenty-three, and of striking appearance. She had German manners and probably spoke Norman French with a German accent, in a deep, masculine voice. By all accounts, the prudent and gracious young girl beloved by the Emperor’s subjects had matured into a formidable character, confident, unbending and independent-minded—“a young woman of clear understanding and masculine firmness.” The sympathetic William of Malmesbury, to whom Maud was patron, referred to her as a “virago,” which then meant a female warrior or courageous heroine, and had not yet acquired its modern sense of being domineering, scolding or shrewish. Other chroniclers mentioned Maud’s masculine stridency. She “had the nature of a man in the frame of a woman.” Her enemy Arnulf, Bishop of Lisieux, wrote that she was an “intrepid spirit” but “had nothing of the woman in her.” The virulently hostile anonymous author of the Gesta Stephani, the chronicle history of the deeds of King Stephen, stated that she was “always superior to feminine softness.” Indefatigable, brave, tenacious and resourceful, she was in many respects her father’s daughter. William of Malmesbury wrote admiringly that she resembled him in her energy, her iron will and her fortitude, “and her mother in sanctity. Piety and assiduity vied with each other in her character, nor was it easy to discern which of her good qualities was most commendable.”(c)
Q: One of the works of the Neoplatonist philosopher Bernard of Chartres was dedicated to Maud by a pupil of his, who clearly thought that she would appreciate Bernard’s teaching that reality is composed of three invisible, immutable principles: God, ideas and matter. It was he who coined the saying, “We are dwarfs astride the shoulders of giants.” (c)
Q: In agreeing to free Maud and let her go to Robert in Bristol, instead of responding repressively “after the fashion of his ancestors,” Stephen had again displayed a fateful lack of judgment that one chronicler thought “incredible.” He had been “very foolish” and in so doing bore the responsibility for the violence that followed. (c)
Q: Stephen was no Henry I, who had ruled by brute force, and Maud was no politician or diplomat. In the absence of a strong ruler and effective central government, chaos began to reign. (c)
Q: Yet criticism of her hauteur came not only from antagonistic sources, but also from those who were pro-Angevin, which argues that it was well founded. (c)
Q: To excuse his and others’ initial support for Stephen, he put his own tactful spin on the events that had followed the King’s death, asserting that, “because it seemed tedious to wait for the lady, who made delays in coming to England, since her residence was in Normandy, thought was made for the peace of the country, and my brother allowed to reign.” (c)
Q: Acting again as a femme sole, with no nod to her married status, Maud would from now on normally style herself “Anglorum Domina” (Lady of the English), Empress or Queen of the Romans, and “daughter of King Henry,” to emphasize the legitimacy of her title. It was not the custom of the Norman rulers of England to style themselves king until they had been crowned, for their sovereignty was only conferred by that sacred act and sanctified by the anointing with holy oil. A drawing of a lost seal attached to a charter Maud gave Geoffrey de Mandeville in 1141 shows her as “Queen of the English”; if an authentic copy, it may have been a seal made in anticipation of her coronation. Nevertheless the word “Domina” made it clear that Maud exercised dominion and power over the people, and we are told that “she gloried in being so called.” (c)
Q: “The people of London were then in grievous trouble.” They watched in impotent terror as the outlying suburbs were “stripped before their eyes and reduced by the enemy’s ravages as a habitation for the hedgehog, and there was no one ready to help them. That new lady of theirs was going beyond the bounds of moderation and sorely oppressing them. They had no hope that in time to come she would have bowels of mercy for them, seeing that, at the very beginning of her reign, she had no pity on her subjects, and demanded what they could not bear.” (c)
Q: Maud rode to Rouen, where, by the autumn, she had been reunited with her husband and sons. After being apart for nine years, she and Geoffrey did not resume married life, although they remained allies, resolved to press Henry FitzEmpress’s claim to England.
Maud took up residence in the palace built by Henry I at Quevilly, which lay to the south of the city in his hunting park on the left bank of the Seine. Here she set up her court, with her own household knights, administrative clerks and chaplains. She came to rely on the monks of nearby Notre-Dame de Pré for spiritual support and intellectual conversation, and often retreated to the lodgings they kept for her in their guesthouse, living among them as if she was a member of their community, and growing increasingly pious as she aged. (c)
Q: Matilda also gave an acre of land for an anchorhold to house a holy nun, Helmid, near Faversham Abbey. (c)
Q: By now Geoffrey had earned the nickname “Plantagenet” after the broom flower (planta genista) he customarily wore in his hat. The dynasty he founded was to be known by that name. (c)
Q: In 1153, Henry’s men and Stephen’s refused to engage in battle, which says much for the general desire to end the war. That August, with the two sides shouting terms across the River Thames, a treaty was agreed at Wallingford, which provided that, on Stephen’s death, Henry would succeed to the throne of England, restoring the succession to the descendants of Henry I. Henry, for his part, was to pay homage to Stephen and keep the peace for the rest of the King’s life. This brought an end to the civil war. (с)
Q: Only then would Maud endorse the agreement at Wallingford being enshrined in the new Treaty of Westminster, which was signed in November, and in which she merited a mention only as “the mother of the Duke.” She had lost her battles, but her son had won the war, and the crown was to return to the rightful royal line. (c)
Q: In a manuscript dedicated to the new King, Robert of Cricklade wrote of Maud’s triumph: “In our age there is one woman, daughter and wife of a king, who has seen her son become a most powerful king, and—what is even more wonderful—each of them has the name of Henry.” This was the way in which Maud would now be remembered and celebrated—not for her deeds, or her failings, but as the woman who had transmitted the legitimate right to rule to her descendants.
Before Henry left for his new kingdom, he went to Rouen and took counsel of his mother, now the respected and vindicated matriarch of the new dynasty, and his brothers. Walter Map, a witty observer of the period, did not like Maud, calling her partly good, but mostly evil. He asserted that his master’s unpleasant character traits were the fault of his mother’s teachings. She had urged him to “spin out all the affairs of everyone, hold long in his own hand all posts that fell in, take the revenues of them, and keep the aspirants to them hanging on in hope. She supported this advice by an unkind analogy: an unruly hawk, if meat is offered to it and then snatched away or hid, becomes keener and more inclinably obedient and attentive.” She had also enjoined that Henry “ought to be much in his chamber and little in public. He should never confer anything on anyone at the recommendation of any person, unless he had seen and learnt about it.” To this advice, Map groused, she added “much more of the worst kind,” including the injunction to be “free in bed, infrequent in business.” In fact, Maud gave Henry wise counsel, and he took good heed of it. From now on, though, he would increasingly act independently of his mother, although he still relied on her, and delegated to her, when the occasion required. (c)
Q:

[Matt · Rating 3 out of 5]

Alison Weir is back with another well-researched biography of English monarchy, but takes a new and exciting approach. Rather than a single biography of a past English monarch, Weir turns her focus onto a collection of medieval queens, many of whom followed one another onto the throne. In this first volume, Weir turns her attention to the Norman queens, who shaped what would eventually become the Plantagenets, a ruling dynasty all their own. Remembering the time period—beginning in the mid-11th century—the reader must remember that these were not entirely independent rulers, but also not the ‘wet behind the ears’ women who nodded and curtsied towards their husbands. Rather, they were women who lived during the modern creation of the England that became a key part of the European realm. Weir explores five key queens who sought not only to support their husbands, but vie for the English throne at a time when it was still unheard of for a woman to rise to power. While there was always a strong political and monarchical struggle—especially in pushing for the true role of primogeniture (eldest child, rather than solely eldest son)—within the realm, the idea that queens could be compassionate to their subjects begins to emerge. From those who sought to build connections with the common folk to the queens who would establish themselves as compassionate to the sick and dying, Weir exemplifies these women as those who knew how to curry favour with the entire English populace and not solely those at court. With additional focus on the genealogical connections between them, the reader can see how some of these issues persist from one generation to the next and how bloodlines fuel battlegrounds for the true right to ascend the English Throne. England fought a Civil War over the question of succession to the throne and lost a potential Queen Regnant who was not strong enough to vie for her blood right. Fans of Weir’s non-fiction work may enjoy this piece, rich in history and social commentary of the time, as well as those with a curiosity in England’s medieval monarchs. I did enjoy it, but find that this period in English history may precede the time period that fascinates me most.

Weir’s work is surely an acquired taste, as I have said to many people over the years. She is one of the few authors I read who is able to write in both the non- and fiction realms at an equally high calibre. Her attention to detail and passion for the subject at hand appears in every book, though some of her non-fiction work can become quite detailed and therefore a little dry. For me, the subject matter usually plays a key role in what will draw me to the book and I fully admit that medieval history can be a little too far back in time to fully enthral me. That being said, Weir makes not only a valiant effort to show how older history can be exciting, but also that there are strong ties to modern themes found in these early queens. The role of women in the English monarchy is a theme that Weir explores, discussing the three types of queens—regnant, consort, and dowager—and how history interpreted this when it came to certain members of the royal family. As always, primogeniture played a strong role in the understanding of who could ascend to the English Throne. Her research is strong and helps propel the narrative of the piece in such a way to offer the reader something they must consider before blindly accepting what happened in history. Weir does enjoy the minutiae, which may not appeal to many, but these fragments of information that may not have been seen or effectively pulled together before help to shape her strong arguments throughout. While I remain baffled as to how Weir can effectively juggle two multi-volume series simultaneously, unrelated to one another, I am eager to see where else she will go with this series. I may return for another volume, though my reticence is only the subject matter and not the quality of her writing.

Kudos, Madam Weir for such a wonderful introduction into this historical exploration of the early Norman queens. I can see there is much to say about them and you are the best person to be handed the reins.

Love/hate the review? An ever-growing collection of others appears at:
http://pecheyponderings.wordpress.com/

A Book for All Seasons, a different sort of Book Challenge: https://www.goodreads.com/group/show/...

[Emma · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 stars

While meticulously researched, this book suffered from a lack of focus. Ostensibly it aimed to reveal the lives of the five Norman Queens, but the dearth of direct extant evidence means that it was more generalised history than truly revelatory biography. We see something of the women, but almost as much about the men in their periphery and about the wider society in which they lived. Perhaps my dissatisfaction here is simply a matter of preference, I wanted a sharper look at the specific female experience. As a result, I was less invested and as the writing style was often bitty, the overall experience of the book suffered. Interesting, but not as good as I hoped.

ARC via Netgalley

[BAM doesn’t answer to her real name · Rating 4 out of 5]

A great thank you to Ms. Alison Weir, Ballantine Books, and Netgalley for the free copy of this book in exchange for an unbiased review.
I'm ecstatic about Weir's new Queen series with the first two novels released: Katharine of Aragon and Anne Boleyn. So when I heard of a new nonfiction release book one in a series I jumped at the chance to review it. Weir is s touchstone of British history, with in depth research and a fluid narrative style. All of her books I have read, both fiction and nonfiction, have been written with meticulous care of the facts as well as a high entertainment value.

So starting out I’m reminded that everyone is named Matilda. I’ve always found this era so confusing and rarely read about it. But Weir does a stellar job at separating the queens to minimize this effect. Although the timelines, of course, do overlap it’s easy to tell everyone apart by distinction. The majority of the book delves into the Anarchy period, mostly, I’m sure, because that’s the heaviest documented.

This was an exceptional educational experience for me. I knew little about the Anglo- Saxon queens. This was perfectly researched and written in a narrated style, so it was easily enjoyed. I didn’t want to put the book down. I look forward to the next in the series.

https://www.goodreads.com/group/show/...

[Geevee · Rating 3 out of 5]

My first book by Alison Weir and one that is a useful overview of the Norman/Angevin queens. The author's style is eminently readable and, had I delved into one of her historical novels, I can certainly see the attraction for her huge success with a flowing, story-telling style.

It is that story-telling though that limits this book as there is much supposition, suggestion and even guesswork without much critique to back views or points up. This of course is the challenge when writing about this era, and especially about women, who in the main were devout, pious and charitable baby-producing wives who were firmly in the back seat of power and royal influence.

There are sources and references but these are less successful as there is much anecdote but little of the author's own analysis or the placing of their [the queens'] real influence or not on the men, the courts and kingdoms they played a part in; and for a "leading" medieval writer one certainly would expect this in a non-fiction account. For Maud this is less so, but here I find a constant theme from the author- simple in my telling here but in essence it is : Empress Maud = bad; Matilda of Boulogne = good.

The sources and scarcity of information and records make this book a challenge and the author does use contemporary accounts in places but there is a lot of may, could, possibly and likely.

Let me be clear though, this is not a bad work; far from it as it is informative, readable and pacy but it lacks the solid analysis, references and critique to really challenge both the author and reader in considering the impact and legacy these ladies made and left.

[Orsolya · Rating 4 out of 5]

The queens and mistresses of English history are no strangers to the modern spotlight. However, this fascination tends to begin with the Plantagenet period and leaves the women of the Anglo-Saxon and Norman Conquest living in a shadow. Alison Weir aims to bring some attention to these vivacious female figures in, “Queens of the Conquest: England’s Medieval Queens”.

Alison Weir takes a step in a different direction from her usual repertoire by focusing “Queens of the Conquest” on the Norman period of English history rather than her usual Plantagenet, Tudor, and some Stuart focus. Weir immediately makes it clear that her work is not to be taken as a strict academic, scholarly piece and serves more as a narrative introduction into the lives of Matilda of Flanders, Matilda (Edith) of Scotland, Adeliza of Louvain, Matilda of Boulogne, and the Empress Maud.

Weir divides “Queens of the Conquest” chronologically with each section focusing on one woman at a time but also highlighting the interwoven connections. Initially, readers may be a bit apprehensive as Weir kicks off the text with speculative “could have” and “would have”- statements akin to her recent, lighter history pieces that have clearly been targeting the ‘Average Joe’/pop history crowd. However, that aside, Weir does slip back into her old ways with heavy research and sleuth work. Yes, some of the chapters are flimsier than others being that source materials concerning the queens of this period are not numerous (and thus, not Weir’s sole fault); yet, Weir successfully presents lesser-known facts and information which are both entertaining and informative even to those familiar with the period and figures.

“Queens of the Conquest” is very easy-to-read but again, is also quite informative. Both novice and informed readers will find it useful. That being said, there are a couple errors that an editor somehow missed and Weir has a habit of going off on thick tangents which can be skipped. Weir, as her readers will attest, likes to present details and all surrounding information which is great, in the sense of truly getting a ‘feel’ for the period/events; but also drags the pace and lessens the focus on the actual subject at hand. “Queens of the Conquest” would be shorter in length, had the volume been condensed.

As “Queens of the Conquest” progresses, the text gets stronger and more cohesive. This may be due to more source material available or more confidence on Weir’s part (perhaps a bit of both); but whatever the cause: it results in a stronger reading. Speaking of length, although “Queens of the Conquest” numbers into the 500-page count; Weir composes short chapters which lessens the opportunity for readers to become overwhelmed.

The final quarter of “Queens of the Conquest” portraits the dramatic interactions between the Empress Maud/Geoffrey Plantagenet and King Stephen/Matilda of Boulogne giving the text an exciting boost and making for a history lesson filled with intrigue and heightened readability. It’s obvious this is where Weir felt the most comfort in her coverage, as it comes through the pages.

Weir fortifies “Queens of the Conquest” with block quotes and primary documents helping to strengthen the text. Also notable is the absence of biases and snarky comments which have made appearances in recent Weir works (and have no place in NF history). Luckily, Weir opted out this time around.

The conclusion of “Queens of the Conquest” is nuanced with emotive power without being ‘cheesy’ or too much like a eulogy. Basically, Weir ends on a solid note.

“Queens of the Conquest” includes two appendices consisting of a list/explanation of chronicle sources and original letters in full which truly offers readers glimpses into not only the beauty of letter-writing and education of the period but also into the minds of the letter authors. Weir also features a bibliography, brief notes (not heavily annotated), and a section of photo color plates.

Weir’s “Queens of the Conquest” is a directional look into the lives of queens not oft-mentioned and does present readers with a new, refreshing view of the period. The writing is readable not being heavily scholarly and academic in tone but still brings forth abundant information. “Queens of the Conquest” is recommended for readers interested in the queenship of English history.

**Note: My rating for “Queens of the Conquest” would be a solid 3.5. In lieu of half-stars, I rounded up to 4, generously.**

[Emma Deplores Goodreads Censorship · Rating 3 out of 5]

I enjoy learning history through biography, hence this group biography of 5 Norman queens of England in the 11th and 12th centuries, 4 of whom were named Matilda. It was not a coincidence! The second was born Edith but renamed herself after her admired mother-in-law upon her marriage, and the fourth and fifth were daughter and niece of the second and presumably named for her.

Biographies so many centuries after the fact are hard, though, especially when covering an era with few surviving documents. I was most engaged with the first 100 pages—which deal with the Norman conquest, and which introduce some social and cultural history alongside the political—and the final 150, dealing with the civil war between the Empress Maud (aka Matilda) and her cousin Stephen. Of the 5 queens, Maud is by far the most heavily criticized in the sources, as she was apparently haughty, imperious, and had a temper. Of course this meant I was far more interested in her than any of the others, just because she was the only one with a discernible personality!

Unlike some other reviewers, I did not find Weir overly critical of Maud, beyond naturally pointing out her political missteps. There is an odd line about applying feminist analysis to the 12th century being “inappropriate,” which I doubt even Weir herself believes—this is someone who has devoted her career entirely to writing about queens, and the line seems out of place given her general treatment of them. I think what’s she’s getting at is that Maud’s problem was more complicated than can be encapsulated in a tweet: she did make actual mistakes, particularly in treating the conquered city of London harshly while still at war and in need of its support. And the primary problem with her gender was not that the barons didn’t believe a woman could rule (they seemed perfectly happy to acknowledge her “masculine” qualities) but that they distrusted her foreign husband and didn’t want him forced on them (as it happens, neither did Maud herself! Her father, Henry I, forced her to marry the 14-year-old heir to a count when she was 25, the widow of an emperor, and definitively not interested. This is unlikely to have happened to a son, but in any case despite naming her as his heir, Henry seems as responsible for undermining Maud’s case as she was).

The other queens are largely lost behind a haze of hagiography, which makes the middle section of the book challenging. For many of its pages—particularly on Matilda of Scotland, as well as the later years of Matilda of Flanders (blink and you’ll miss Adeliza of Louvain)—all Weir has to work with are charters and gifts granted to monasteries, adoring correspondence exchanged with various prelates, and some hagiographic biography. Actual attempts were made to canonize Matilda of Scotland, ultimately scuppered due to politics (attempting to cast aspersions on Maud’s legitimacy by claiming her mother was a nun). Weir is able to deduce a fair amount of information from these scanty records—for instance, the charters include location of signing and witnesses, allowing her to track people’s movements—but it makes for tedious reading at times. That said, her style is certainly readable and the short chapters help too. I also appreciated her analytical approach to the sources, noting for instance how credible the sources for various anecdotes are.

Perhaps my biggest takeaway, after the fact that queens were indeed involved in government during this period, is just how brutal these people were. Henry I was generally admired for keeping the peace, but at one point, upon going to war with a son-in-law, took his own young granddaughters hostage and turned them over to be blinded when their father reneged on his part. (His daughter, understandably, responded by trying to kill him with a crossbow at a parley, but was unsuccessful.) Matilda of Boulogne seems to have been seen as the “good” queen in the civil war (she was quite active, even riding at the head of her husband’s troops while he was imprisoned) but sanctioned her troops rampaging and murdering in the outskirts of London purely to prove to the inhabitants that Maud couldn’t stop them. Part of me wants to say “no wonder these people endowed so many monasteries to pray for their souls” but it’s also unclear whether these were the sins they worried about.

Also, one more fun tidbit: when mocking Henry I and Edith/Matilda as overly English, the Normans referred to them by the most stereotypically English names: guess what they were! Godric and Godgifu! Truly, the language has changed beyond recognition; Weir notes that it’s fortunate most of her source texts were in French and Latin, since that actually makes them easier to translate.

At any rate, I did learn something about the history here, though the book was also a bit longer than I’d have liked for the amount we actually know about these queens. I’d consider reading more from Weir—and given the Tudors are her preferred subject, I imagine most of her work is more colorful—but I’m not in a hurry.

[Kim]

Alison Weir's book about Eleanor of Aquitane was fascinating, so I can't wait to read this story of five medieval queens. On a personal note, I had just finished reading Weir's book about Eleanor of Aquitane before a job interview many years ago. The interviewer asked who I would invite to dinner if I could invite three people living or dead to share a meal. One of the three I listed was Eleanor of Aquitane. I got the job! I can't wait to get this book and read it.

[OLT · Rating 3 out of 5]

This first book in Alison Weir's nonfiction series on England's medieval queens spans the years from the Norman conquest in 1066 up to the beginning of the reign of Henry II and the crowning of Eleanor of Aquitaine as his queen. So we have the book encompassing the lives of (1) Matilda of Flanders, wife of William the Conqueror, (2) Matilda of Scotland, Henry I's first wife, (3) Adeliza of Louvain, Henry I's second wife, (4) Matilda of Boulogne, King Stephen's wife, and (5) the Empress Matilda or Maud, Henry I's daughter and mother of Henry II.

As you can imagine, there's a good deal of information about these women to be found in the 403 pages detailing their lives. And Weir has included more than 100 pages of additional information: Appendix I: A Guide to the Principal Chronicle Sources; Appendix II: Letters; Bibliography; Notes and References; Index.

I appreciate the painstaking research that has gone into producing this volume. It is nonfiction, and, as such, needs to be written with much more care to detail than a fictional work would allow. However, Weir seems to want to show off all her hard work when researching these queen's lives and has managed to make their stories dry and excessively detailed, getting into some minutia I didn't feel necessary to get the feel for these women and the times they lived in. Discussions about whether an obscure daughter, for example, was named Agatha or Adeliza, or other irrelevant facts, just tended to turn me off.

In addition, although this is nonfiction, it must be pointed out that the letters, chronicles and reports written in medieval times were often biased and unreliable as to facts, so a great deal of sifting and interpreting had to be done by Weir. However, much of the detail is interesting and informative if you are not familiar with these queens and what life was like during the Middle Ages and the reading of this is a good starting out point for educating oneself.

That said, I must also say that for really interesting and compelling reads about these queens I much prefer the historical fiction written by Sharon Penman and Elizabeth Chadwick. Those two authors do careful research and really make history and historical personages come alive in compelling reads. Weir has bored me, for the most part, with this book.

[Ceri Fowler · Rating 4 out of 5]

Being a massive Tudors geek, I’ve read and enjoyed lots of Alison Weir’s work before so I was really happy when I was offered this book to review. I love to read a good history and I was especially interested in this for its focus on the women rather than the men of the conquest (we have enough books about 1066!).

Alison Weir is the biggest-selling female historian in the UK and this book tells us once again why that is so. It’s the first of a planned quartet about the Medieval Queens of England; this volume begins with Matilda of Flanders in 1066 and takes us through to the life of the Empress Maud.

Weir describes the lives of the Queens as having “all the elements of the historical soap opera” and, after reading, this perfectly encapsulates both the positives and negatives of the book as I found it. The lives of the Queens are dramatic and full of intrigue and the source material from which the narrative is built is undoubtedly exciting. However, the source material is also scant in places and, in order to build a narrative account rather than a dry academic essay, Weir is forced to make assumptions or educated guesses about the queens – some sections are frustratingly full of phrases such as “it is likely that” rather than offering the reader any certainty. This is my only criticism as I thoroughly enjoyed the book.

The style is, as ever with Weir’s work, lively and engaging and despite the distance of time and struggle with sources I felt that she successfully pulled back the veil of history and gave a true insight into the lives of these Queens: the “beautiful and noble” Matilda of Flanders, who was repeatedly the regent of Normandy for her husband, William the Conqueror; Matilda of Scotland, the first Queen of Henry I, who loved literature, founded hospitals and was “renowned for her goodness”; Adeliza “the fair maid” of Louvain, the second Queen of Henry I, who remarried after Henry’s death and was a distant ancestor of one of my favourite Queens of England, the infamous Anne Boleyn; Matilda of Boulogne, wife of Stephen, who proved a key player and worthy opponent for none other than the Empress Maud, sole daughter of Henry I, who was the heir to the English throne in her own right.

The last pairing was the most interesting part of the narrative. A story so dominated by two women in a period of war is unusual in British History and I was completely drawn in. Weir’s talent for description meant I could imagine, for example, the Empress Maud fleeing from the siege of Oxford through the deep snow, dressed in white to camouflage herself in the blizzard. The clever use of sources to describe this incident and others, while maintaining a coherent narrative, is the best feature of the book and I was left wanting to know more about the period and the time, which is a high recommendation. I will eagerly await the remaining three books in the series and would thoroughly recommend it to all fans of history.

[Ally · Rating 2 out of 5]

I just finished this book and I am so darn irritated with it. I don't expect popular nonfiction to be unbiased. While part of their aim is to impart knowledge, they are also meant to entertain. However, the bias in this book, especially during the period known as the Anarchy, was downright distracting. Weir seems to have been extremely influenced by the Gestis Stephani given her attitudes towards Empress Maude and Queen Mathilda. She frequently uses lines like "puffed up by arrogance" to describe Maude and while she does acknowledge the bias of the Gestis Stephani, there are times when she presents passages from this source as if they were undeniable fact. Towards the end, Weir does note some of the reasons why certain sources paint Maude in such a negative light but she quickly brushes off those reasons, saying that we cannot look at medieval history through a modern, feminist lens (which in my opinion is hogwash and part of being historian should be to investigate the biases of your sources and how they influenced the narrative).

Oh and the reason Weir suggests is the most likely for why Maude was so well regarded before and after the war but viewed so negatively during the war? Mood swings from early menopause. Yeah, that's right. Menopause. She suggests this even though there is no contemporary evidence to suggest Maude was going into early menopause, other than she had complications following the birth of her last son. Also, that is just a downright sexist suggestion in itself.

I was very excited for this book as I love medieval history and I love histories that focus on key women. I was so let down by this that it will probably be a while before I read another history by Weir. If you are interested in this time period, I highly recommend Dan Jones's account of the Plantagenets. It's a much more balanced examination.

[Melisende · Rating 2 out of 5]

"Saga of England's medieval Queens is vivid and stirring, packed with tragedy, high drama, and even comedy. It is a chronicle of love, passion, high intrigue, murder, war, treason, betrayal and sorrow, peopled by a cast of heroines, villains, amazons, stateswomen, adulteresses and lovers."

Weir claims her aim in writing this tome was to strip away the "romantic mythology and legends" - and yet each chapter has its own flowery title. She also claims that it is "not an academic history but a narrative of the times" - and yes it is.

What I actually found was an attempt at updating Agnes Strickland's "Lives of the Queens of England" (pub 1840s) - and there is nothing wrong in that (I have also read Strickland's works), and as more information comes to hand, research quite naturally is updated. Having said that, sometimes when one reads a new work, one has a sense of deja vu.

This tome encompasses the women of the early Norman period: Matilda of Flanders, Matilda of Scotland, Adeliza of Louvain, Matilda of Boulogne and Empress Maud - all fascinating women in their own right. Some chapters are longer than others - sometimes, with information is just not there for the author to really delve into the character of these women. There follows the usual sources, letters, bibliography at the end/

Look - an entry level book for the beginner, but nothing new for the purist looking for something with a bit more guts to it.

[Louise · Rating 4 out of 5]

While the focus is on 5 medieval queens, this book shows how England and France were joined and describes the destruction of the civil war that followed. Three of these five queens (four named Matilda) distinguished themselves in roles typically reserved for men in this period.

Matilda of Flanders assisted her husband William (the Conqueror) in administering his growing domains. She granted and witnessed charters, adjudicated disputes and ruled in his absence. She counseled her husband and advanced the role of her favorite son. Henry I’s daughter Maud (Matlida) ran a campaign to take the throne when her cousin Steven usurped it. Steven’s wife Matilda of Boulogne was a skillful negotiator who also raised armies and had engineered a blockade. She was managed the war in her husband's 9 month captivity and was critical in maintaining her husband as king and herself as queen.

Matilda of Scotland (Maud’s mother) played a more conventional role. She was a mother and a noted patron of religious orders. Adeliza of Louvain was the young second wife of King Henry I. She seemed to be a close companion, traveling with the King. She bore him no children.

There is detail on the Civil War spawned by the fact or rumor that Henry I, on his deathbed, gave his crown to his nephew. This bypassed his daughter who was in direct line of succession and whom he had previously had designated. The daughter was not shy in enlisting the husband (to whom she strenuously but ineffectively objected to marrying) and raising armies to fight in Normandy and England. Steven and Matilda did likewise. Both couples courted nobles and clergy.

Steven undermined his cause by believing his enemies (some close relatives) and releasing high value POWs who, once freed, fought him again. Maud undermined her cause by showing disrespect to supporters, particularly those who left Steven to join her cause. As soon as one side seems to win, the other bounces back. Both England and Normandy suffer devastation and the resulting starvation and disease due to the war which lasted 15 years.

Throughout the book you see the difficulty in researching his era. Just determining the number and names of children Matilda of Flanders bore requires finding and scrutinizing conflicting and gapped primary records. Evidence that her marriage was a true romance is contradicted by evidence of her husband’s extreme cruelty. What is real and what is gossip? While sketches and gaps remain common, the record gets a tad better in the later decades covered in this book.

There is good information regarding the places where these queens lived and visited which are well described. There are good descriptions of clothing and jewels. As befitting queens, there are generous gifts to religious orders which are described along with the queens' relationships with religious leaders. There are letters and poems excerpted in the text and some shown fully in the Appendix.

The book is crammed with facts, as is any book by Alison Weir. It is mostly readable, but at points the text is thick with aforementioned (and forgotten) names to be looked up. The genealogy charts are helpful. There are many color plates. The maps suit the text.

If you are not interested in this era, it will not pull you in. If you are interested in this era, it is recommended.

[Leslie · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book is truly on the edge of a knife for me, at 2.5 stars and I'm extremely tempted to round down to 2. but parts of it were better than others and I know I have an inherent bias against this author, so I'll bend over backwards to be fair.

I am relieved that Ms. Weir has stopped (for now) trying to write full-length biographies of women about whom there is so little known that she ends up having to add a lot of speculation and filler about the times, the women’s male relatives, etc. She is still sloppy at sourcing (a throwaway remark about Edward the Confessor having been an albino was given no explanation, has virtually no support anywhere, and could easily have been just left out), and sometimes her touching faith in the accuracy of at least some of the chroniclers seems just too naive for belief. I got a huge chuckle from this one: "[Adeliza of Louvaine, Henry I's second wife] must have been remarkably beautiful, given their ecstatic praise. One called her 'a lovely woman,' another a 'young woman of great beauty and modesty.'" Because, Lord knows, no queen or princess would ever be called beautiful unless she actually was.

My biggest problem is, as always with her books, that she lets her biases show way too much for my taste. The worst of it was her account of the struggle between Henry I’s daughter Matilda (called Maud by her due to the plethora of Matildas in the book) and his nephew Stephen. Maud, as is traditional but has been questioned of late by serious historians, is portrayed as an arrogant, rampaging virago, while Stephen’s wife, Matilda of Boulogne, is a paragon of piety and nobility, apparently without fault. Weir gives a nod to the recent questioning of Maud’s portrayal at the end, but with a rather huffy pronouncement that it is “inappropriate” to look at things through a modern lens. However, where she doesn’t appear to have an obvious emotional investment, she does provide a useful look at some of these early queens, about whom there is sadly very little available for the popular reader.

[G. Lawrence · Rating 5 out of 5]

Great book. Thorough research and told with Weir's compelling command. Excellent

[Stephen · Rating 2 out of 5]

normally enjoy her books but this had so many errors in it which spoilt it for me

[Megan · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was my first non-fiction read by Alison Weir. I've previously read two of her novels - 'A Dangerous Inheritance' and her novel on Jane Seymour, 'The Haunted Queen' - and found them to be a bit bland and boring; nothing too special, but nothing exceptionally horrible, either. I picked this text up for two reasons: 1), I was keen to see how Weir's non-fiction held up against her historical fiction (and I'd also heard a few mixed things about accuracy in her n-f books), and 2), I'd just recently finished a mini-thesis on the Empress Matilda for my history major, and wanted to see how Weir handled her.

I was actually pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed this. Yes, it is heavy with facts and footnotes, as well as discussion in which Weir critically disputes historical theories and offers her own interpretations and perspectives, so this probably won't be a book for everyone. As a history major however, this was right up my alley, though Weir's writing style is easy to read and comprehend, which makes it accessible to those unfamiliar with this area of history.

This book looks chronologically at five women: Matilda of Flanders (wife of William I the Conqueror of England), Matilda of Scotland (whose birth name was actually Edith but changed around the time of her marriage; wife of Henry I, daughter of St Margaret of Scotland), Adeliza of Louvain (the pretty, young, second wife of Henry I), Matilda of Boulogne (wife of King Stephen) and finally, the Empress Matilda (who is renamed "Maud" to distinguish her from Matilda of Boulogne, who is active during the same time period; daughter of Henry I and mother of Henry II - yes, she was also Eleanor of Aquitaine's mother in law). This may seem ambitious - there is very little surviving information about all of these women, less so about the first three, and what is known about Matilda of Boulogne and the Empress Matilda is often derived from information about the near-twenty-year war for the English throne they were involved in. Because of their overlapping timelines, both Matilda of Boulogne and the Empress are examined in the same chapter.

This is, admittedly, a long book. It's 500-odd pages, although only 300 pages is actually devoted to the text, with the rest being made up of footnotes and bibliographical information. Weir also provides her readers with translations of some of the letters written by the five women in order to add to the portrait she paints of them. While the language does get heavy and worry, it's definitely an interesting perusal.

All in all, I really enjoyed this one. I'm looking forward to the next few installment within the series, especially because I'm hoping they'll focus on some of the lesser-known Plantagenet women, and I'm definitely curious to see how Weir handles their histories.

[Mark · Rating 2 out of 5]

I think this book may appeal to two different kinds of people for different reasons: people who know very little about medieval history and want to fantasize about being a medieval queen OR people who already have a thorough knowledge of the Norman period and want to compare their notes with Weir's. I'm not really either of those, so it didn't work for me.
1. Weir spends a fair amount of time on the generalities of medieval history which I already knew, so they bored me. If you already know how a great hall worked, what the class structure was like, how the church felt about women, and what royal women did to pass their time between giving birth, you're going to get it all over again here.
2. On the other hand, Weir spends a lot of time on geneological lists and feels the need to name every politician involved in some plot or another. It gets to be a lot of names. Here, if you already have read a fair amount on the period, you might get excited to see a bishop or a lord pop up whose name you recognize. If not, a lot of these people whizz by and their brief biographies feel a bit like filler. I don't need to know the name of every kid one of these queens had, and who they eventually married, and what the names of all their kids were.
3. Weir adopts the bizarrely evangelical, sexist, and violent language of the period without comment. Yes, the chroniclers of the time felt that terrifying everyone around you, beating your wife, and bullying your subjects made you a "good and noble king" or that spending your whole life praying so that you died having done nothing useful except (literally) getting calloused knees made you an admirable woman. (As a side note, did the chroniclers feel forced to write this by their sugar daddy warlords? It would be fascinating to explore if these strange juxtapositions might be a literary form of exposing faults while seemingly praising them.) But most of us today don't share these views. Weir never casts a critical eye on the assumptions of the period. She just presents them as valid. This is where people really deep into the period might already understand the context of these views and coast along. Or where someone who fantasizes about the Middle Ages being a "simpler time" might enjoy swallowing this claptrap. But I feel like most of us would like a little critical reading of views so divergent from what we live today.
4. Because records are scant from this period, I sometimes felt that Weir felt the need to include anything she could find. She goes on and on about the lavish descriptions of clothes for instance. Some queen got married in a robe of rich gold stuffs, finest embroidery, bejeweled with etc. etc. Then we get to hear the list of everything that went into her husband's marriage robe, even though it's pretty much the same except, say, embroidered with pearls instead of stones. Yawn. This is where the medieval fan girl may geek out, imagining wallowing in this excess while some peasant was tortured outside, but it just felt like filler for me.

It didn't help that I was listening to the book on CD and the reader used such an overenunciated, twee tone of voice that it sounded like she was reading for a bunch of two-year-olds. So, it might be great for the right reader. I would probably have loved it in high school. As a forty-something, I got about a third of the way in and gave up.

[lacy white · Rating 4 out of 5]

I received this ebook in exchange for an honest review from Netgalley. Many thanks to Netgalley and Random House Publishing for giving me the opportunity to read and review this book. Let it be know that the opinions expressed down below are my own and were not influenced by being given this book.

Alison Weir is a gifted biographer. She is easily one of my insta-buy authors. I don't even have to read what the book is about to know that I will buy whatever she writes. She brings monarchs that are known and monarchs that aren't known to life. She manages to write in such a way that she gets all the information across but it's not boring. This was a biography of five different queens and I felt like I got to know each one personally, which is really tough to do. This book has made me want to go research more about this dynamic queens and I learned a lot.

I will admit that I thought this book was going to be more of a novel based, kind of like Weir's Katharine of Aragon. It wasn't but in a way, I was glad. I feel like if it had been read like that, we would have lost a lot of information. And there was a lot packed into this 400 page book.

I also really liked that this series is going to be split into four parts. That gives more space for information and it doesn't become overburdened. The beginning Queens did so much and it would have been a shame for them to not be given their proper page time. Each and every Queen deserves to have their time to shine.

Alison Weir really put in work to find out everything she could about the Queens. I feel that everything was very carefully researched and properly annotated. Even the information that hazy at best was given in such a way that I wasn't frustrated that it was guest work (which is a common thing for me), which was the case for the first couple of Queens. The use of letters was a nice touch as well.

Overall, I couldn't be more happy with my first Netgalley ARC approval. Alison Weir is gifted in the historical nonfiction and biography field. I feel that she loves what she writes and that makes me love what she writes. I should give a slight warning by saying this is a dense book. This really should be read by those that are utterly fascinated with history, like I am. However, I also feel that if you are wanting to learn more about the earlier Queens, this could also be a good book for you to start at.

[Simon · Rating 3 out of 5]

A good, solid introduction to the Queens of England up to Eleanor of Aquitaine. Weir starts with Matilda, the wife of William the Conqueror. The small problem for the reader is that with the exception of Adeliza, second wife of Henry I, every woman in this period was a Matilda. Even the Empress Maude, who never quite reigned thanks to civil war, was originally a Matilda. It makes for a lot of Matildas to follow.

Weir did her research for the book,, and it shows. Her discussions of the roles played by the women are as thorough as they can be, and she largely refrains from "best guesses" about anything, including their physical appearances. The difficulty is that there is very little extant information about their personalities (with the exception of Maude, who was so prickly the chronicles had to mention it, the other royal woman are uniformly saintly), their beauty (even a marginally attractive royal was described as a "beauty", and there are no surviving portraits of any of them) or even much in the way of their activities outside of endowing abbeys and churches. Weir must perforce focus on the men married to the women, which is understandable but perhaps not quite the point of a series with the word "Queens" prominently in the title.

It felt less like a general history read and more for those with a working knowledge of the period. It is interesting to watch the dynastic maneuverings of the proto-nations of medieval Europe. The book is also a salutary reminder that this was a time when the nobility were actual warriors rather than effete society leaders. Even the women covered by the book engaged in warfare, and several of them were in actual physical danger while on the throne.

[Adrienne · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wonderful. Allow me to explain why. Previously I had read the 3 book series by David Churchill on the Dukes of Normandy. The final Duke of Normandy, William (also called William the Bastard), became William 1 King of England in 1066. (BTW the 3 book series is a fascinating read). William's wife was Matilda. This couple had a very public and equal marriage; with Matilda representing William in court/ducal duties and property ownership - as well as bearing 10 children.
Hence I was intrigued to learn more about Matilda. Alison Weir's historical book Queens of the Conquest displayed even more of this equality between husband and wife. While William was in England from 1066 for most of his life's remainder; Matilda spent only 4 years, in total, in England.
The rest of the time she ruled Normandy with 2 advisors. She was a person of devout faith and considerable wealth. Evidence exists of her vast offerings to the church. As well her being held in high regard by the people and landowners. Both in respect to her realm decisions and by the church . Additionally she was very involved with her children's upbringing.
Btw the solid research on Matilda and William was very evident.
Unputdownable.

[Donald · Rating 2 out of 5]

Not gonna lie, this was a hard slog. Meticulous the research may have been, it's just so long ago that primary sources are few and relying on inaccurate chronicles or histories written by others means there's almost no sense of personality here. The few surviving letters quoted are formal and diplomatic. Interesting as these women may have been, this boils down to lists of places visited, charters witnessed and endless amounts of charity endowments and alms handouts...

[Kathryn McKendry · Rating 5 out of 5]

Excellent… but not for everyone. If you love medieval history you’ll love this book, however if your eyes begin to glaze over at the thought of reading detailed descriptions of the 11th century then it is probably not for you.
i thoroughly enjoyed it!!

[Liz · Rating 4 out of 5]

I always enjoy Alison Weir's non fiction. I find them quite readable and easy to follow. It's tricky when all of the characters have the same name, but it's not the author's fault that literally named was named Matilda. I love British history and the monarchy in particular, and I love women's history and this checks both of those boxes. We learn so much about their husbands but that's not the full story at all. I wish we knew more. Anyway, highly recommend.

[Lois · Rating 3 out of 5]

Excellent research a bit exaggerated in reach, the author speaks with much surety about poorly documented periods.
Interesting a bit long winded.
Mostly enjoyed it.

[Mel · Rating 3 out of 5]

So. Much. Information. Maybe too much. My brain is too scrambled for it to absorb so much detailed info 😵‍💫

[Margaret · Rating 4 out of 5]

A look at five English queens: Matilda of Flanders, Matilda of Scotland, Adeliza, Matilda of Boulgne and the Empress Maud.

Five interesting women and their roles in the English society after the Norman conquest.

Interesting read.

Highly recommended.

[Genni · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was well written in the most basic way. Structurally, it falls apart and loses focus about halfway through, beginning with Henry II’s second wife. Not much is known about her. She did not participate in politics much (that we know of), and aside from the typical paean of praise or two on her beauty and piety, there is little to say. Weir attempts to dedicate a section to her as she does the others, but she is ultimately lost in the drama of the politics of the time. Weir shifts to an almost strictly chronological narrative at this point and the different divisions for each queen become obsolete in reality. Maud completely overshadows Matilda’s section and I think to truly bring to focus the section on Matilda, Weir should have waited to cover the drama Maud imposed on history until her corresponding section. Still, the book is worth a look-through and the excitement of those times and the incredible lives these women led makes pleasant reading.

[Tracy Ellis · Rating 1 out of 5]

Not one of her finest books I'm afraid. It's a promising idea but it is filled with so much supposition and background detail that it is frankly quite boring. An example is the piece about Matilda of Flanders watching a trial by ordeal of a woman seeking to reclaim her son. The implication is that as the woman undergoing the ordeal healed quickly her ordeal must have been mitigated and it must have been Matilda's doing, with no supporting evidence. It is frustrating as when this author is good she is absolutely fabulous. I would avoid this one though.

[Tracey · Rating 3 out of 5]

I love Alison Weir but found this one a bit hard going. It needed a good editor. There was way too much trivial information as if the author wanted to impress with all she knew. However, it made the reading dry and unfocused. Still very interesting to learn about how much authority and influence these women had.