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Daughters of kings were often used to seal treaty alliances and forge peace with England’s enemies. Princesses of the Early Middle Ages: Royal Daughters from the Conquest explores the lives of these young women, how they followed the stereotype, and how they sometimes managed to escape it.
The Role of a Princess
Princesses of the Early Middle Ages: Royal Daughters of the Conquest is the first part of the book that was designed to be The Medieval Princess – except it turned out to be a much bigger project than I ever anticipated and was far too long for one book. So, out of one project, The Medieval Princess: Royal Daughters from the Conquest to the Wars of the Roses,
I have two books. Princesses of the Early Middle Ages: Royal Daughters of the Conquest is the first instalment, looking at the daughters of Harold II, William the Conqueror and England’s kings from 1066 to the end of the reign of King John. I should have known, of course, that I could not fit all these amazing women into one volume, after all, my inspiration for the books was Mary Anne Everett Green’s comprehensive, six volume series The Lives of the Princesses of England from the Norman Conquest.
I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Mary Anne for the work she did in bringing these women into the light.
The inspiration for this book, and its sister, is rather odd. It comes from a meme that appears on social media every once in a while, which is something along the lines of ‘My daughter wanted me to treat her more like a princess. So, I married her to a stranger to strengthen the alliance with Poland!’ This is, essentially, the vision we have of a medieval princess. She is a pawn, nothing more than a bargaining tool in the world of international politics as far as her parents were concerned. These royal women appear to have had two options: to marry a foreign prince or to become a nun. But was that really the case?
The two daughters of King Harold II, who was killed at the Battle of Hastings in October 1066, did not have the guidance of their father when their fates were decided, but they were influenced by the time in which they lived. Growing to adulthood in the aftermath of the Norman Conquest one of the sisters, Gytha, left England with her paternal grandmother and was eventually married to Vladimir II Monomakh of Kyivan Rus, a union most likely arranged by her Danish cousin, King Swein Estrithson. Gytha’s sister, Gunhild, remained in England in the convent at Wilton, which was patronised by her aunt Edith of Wessex, Edward the Confessor’s queen.
There is some doubt whether Gunhild was ever intended for convent life. Wilton was an abbey renowned for the education of young noblewomen who did not necessarily go on to take their vows. And Gunhild certainly did not. She appears to have led a rather unconventional life as the mistress of, first, Alan the Red and then his brother, Alan the Black. Whether she ever married either brother is still disputed.
Harold’s daughters may not have had the guidance of their father, but his shadow, as the defeated and dead king of England, must have been long. It would certainly have affected their marriage prospects. Marriage with Gunhild or Gytha did not bring an accompanying alliance with England. And Gytha’s status as a member of the Danish extended royal family was only significant enough to bring her a marriage with the son of a younger son of a dynasty at the far reaches of Europe, notwithstanding that circumstance and family deaths made Vladimir II Monomakh far more influential than could have been foreseen at the time of the wedding.
Of William the Conqueror’s four known, undisputed daughters, two married French lords – the counts of Blois and Brittany – one was dedicated to the Church as a child and the fourth joined a convent after several failed marriage proposals. A possible fifth daughter may have been named Matilda or Agatha and may have been betrothed to a Spanish prince – or not; which just about sums up the problems faced when writing about women who lived 950 years ago. The information is sketchy, to put it mildly.
King Stephen also dedicated his youngest daughter to the Church, sending her to a convent when she was just 6 or 7 years old. Although she took to convent life, Marie was violently dragged from it when she became the last surviving child of King Stephen and therefore Countess of Boulogne in her own right. As Stephen’s heir, she was rich and valuable, and way too dangerous to be allowed to remain unmarried, even if she was a nun. She had a claim to England’s throne and that claim needed to be controlled and contained. Interestingly, after she had provided her husband with two daughters to continue the family line, Marie was finally able to obtain a divorce and return to the cloisters, leaving her husband, Matthew of Alsace, to raise the children.
As the only legitimate daughter of Henry I, Stephen’s predecessor, Empress Matilda was never destined for a convent. Indeed, she achieved the heights few princesses would ever reach, as Holy Roman Empress. And she so nearly became England’s first crowned queen regnant. But despite being proclaimed Lady of the English in 1141,
Empress Matilda
Matilda was never able to consolidate her position as England’s ruler. And, although she did not have a daughter of her own, the empress’s three granddaughters, the daughters of Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine, fulfilled what has come to be seen as the traditional role of a princess, marrying into foreign lands to forge alliances that are strengthened by that familial bond.
King John’s daughters, in turn, were destined for the same roles, marrying into Germany, Wales and Scotland. All except the youngest. Eleanor, who was no more than a babe in arms when her father died. She was married at the age of 8 to William Marshal II, to bring that powerful magnate into the royal family. And her second husband, Simon de Montfort? Well, that was a love match which would causes its own problems, when family disharmony and political upheaval would result in the Second Barons’ War.
All those mentioned so far are the legitimate children of the kings of England, but the illegitimate daughters were no less significant. Although not, technically, princesses, they were the daughters of kings and had the added advantage, as far as their father was concerned, of creating a familial link with the royal family without passing on a claim to the throne.
Joan, Lady of Wales
Young women such as Sybilla of Normandy, daughter of Henry I, and Joan, Lady of Wales, daughter of King John, still played significant diplomatic roles,
bringing England’s neighbours – and frequent enemies – Scotland and Wales, into the fold. Of course, sometimes plans went awry. Henry I’s daughter, Juliane, went rogue, firing a crossbow bolt at her father in a failed attempt to kill him, after her husband rebelled.
In all these stories, there is little evidence the girls themselves were consulted about their futures. Marriage planes were made, then broken, then made again, throughout their childhoods, as alliances were made and broken. But they were so much more than pampered princesses. They were raised for a duty of service to the crown, and to their families. These girls can be seen as the original Diplomatic Corps.
They were raised to be ambassadors, to be the living link between their husbands and fathers, between their homeland and the lands they ruled as consorts. Their marriages were the demonstrable intent that both sides desired that an alliance or a peace treaty would be permanent. These girls were not sent off to foreign lands, never to be thought of or seen again; their whole purpose was to maintain that link with their father and their homeland, to be the diplomatic channel that brought peace or prevented war.
On the whole, they were rather successful at it.
Sharon Bennett Connolly
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