Is writing fiction about 1066, or the Anglo-Saxons in general, the exclusive preserve of a male-only club? Ellen Alpsten was surprised to hear people suggest this. The author of The Last Princess argues that the events leading to the Battle of Hastings merit a ‘female retelling’.
In autumn 2024, we celebrate the 958th anniversary of the Battle of Hastings. Historians such as Marc Morris label this mother of all uphill struggles, where both the Normans and the Anglo-Saxons fought for England, as “The defining catastrophe of the British Isles”.
The epic fight between William the Conqueror and Harold II Godwinson set the clock to hour zero for modern Britain. Yet most of us have only a rudimentary notion of the exact on-goings, and recent TV adaptations either lose themselves in gore and glory or indeed focus on ‘King and Conqueror’.
No wonder: was there ever so much lost and won in the mere moment of a day, hitherto, and henceforward? Any author of historical fiction would home in on the subject, I thought when drafting my new novel, The Last Princess.
Any author? I soon stood corrected. Apparently, to be a fully-fledged author writing about the Anglo-Saxon demise, I lack a crucial couple of inches and some ladles of testosterone.
Gytha Godwinson, the heroine of my new The Last Princess series, was on my radar ever since devising my Tsarina series. Why? Spoiler alert! Let us just say that in the planned trilogy, Gytha witnesses the end of an era, and rises from the ashes of a cursed kingdom, before she welds an empire of her own in the fire of change.
After long months of writing and arduous rewriting – one must do more than kill the darlings, one must twist and torture them, high middle-age style, which is Gytha’s age! – my novel was with the proofreader, and off I went to a party at London’s oldest bookshop. Back to life, I thought, before I almost suffocated on my canape: “You write about the Anglo-Saxons? That subject is for men only!” Someone thrashed my ambitions. I can’t stop thinking about it ever since.
Have I bitten off more than I can chew?
Bestselling fiction authors about the subject such as Bernard Cornwell and also George RR Martin (yes, the basic set up of Game of Thrones feeds on 1066, where the evil horse-eating hordes cross a channel and claim a throne) are of a different sex.
Women mostly publish non-fiction about the High Middle Ages: I read many, many of their works before I dared to pick up my own pen.
Going back in time a millennium is an enormous challenge. But then, who does not like a challenge? It also gives you great liberty, even if the Anglo-Saxons trod famously lightly on the surface of this earth, building in earth, wattle, and daub, and living in harmony with nature and its seasons: call it medieval mindfulness.
But research is the rigid, non-negotiable frame inside of which the story may swarm as the most colourful of images – an image I am determined to paint in The Last Princess. A reader gives me their most valuable – and that is not their money, but their time and attention. Will I, as a female writer of The Last Princess be worthy of this?
I turned to a medieval enthusiast Facebook group, asking: is writing about 1066 a male member’s club? Within minutes, a fabulous fight had broken out amongst the male and female members.
Here are some of the quotes: “Ask a war-gaming chatroom and you’ll have your answer!” “It happened at Hastings – was there a woman present?” (If you read The Last Princess you’ll be surprised who Harold II was looking out for when the lethal bolt struck him right into his eye, splitting his skull and piercing his brain.) “It’s all the swords – how can this be about women?” And so on.
It made my hackles rise – almost like the claim that Helen Mirren cannot play Golda Meir, because she’s not Jewish; or the critic who said I should stay off the Romanovs in my Tsarina series, because I was born in Kenya. As are so many preconceived ideas, 1066, and especially whatever happened to the Godwinsons, as a male member’s club per se is ludicrous. Instead, it is all about one’s approach to a subject. Perhaps teaching and learning about the past, and history, ought to change?
My research reveals the run-up to 1066 as a family affair; like a Greek tragedy of Anglo-Saxon making, it’s not William the Bastard’s pride which seals the fate of the Anglo-Saxon Kingdom, but a searing sibling rivalry. The Godwinsons were a feral pack, whose betrayal runs generations deep.
They owed everything to their women: The huscarl Godwin rose to influence because of his marriage with a kinswoman of Cnut the Great, the only ruler of the fabled North Sea Empire, which encompassed Norway, England, and Denmark.
Godwin punched far above his weight by ‘marrying up’. Harold II was their eldest surviving son and heir to Godwin’s House of Dragons – their heraldic beast is a two-legged, winged Wyvern, which also adorns the cover of The Last Princess as a cross-stitch embroidery.
But if Harold inherited his father’s lust for power, he lacked the funds, until his mother Gytha arranged for his ‘Danelaw’ wedding — simple hand-fasting, tying a couple’s wrists together at any given spot — to Edith Swan-neck.
Edith brought Harold England’s largest ever dowry: 250 hides, estates and their manors and bell towers. She offered Harold the fyrd, the simple soldiers whose fortunes rose and fell with him, and the geld, the rental income he required.
But when Harold’s sister — King Edward the Confessor’s Queen — bears England no son and heir, he is the lookout for somebody who can give him the other half of England, too. Ideally a woman – and this is where The Last Princess begins.
Given this set-up, there rarely seems to be a story which so merits a ‘female retelling’ – because the perplexing plot of Gytha’s life, and her later glory, is so unknown. Of all the Godwinsons, her bloodline survives to this day.
How come? Let me surprise you, which is the nicest thing about writing historical fiction! Even if we embrace historical determinism – the end is known – the art is in the telling of the story, and in creating its turning points.
I am writing book two in the The Last Princess trilogy at the moment and I love that, in a time when women had pre-conceived roles in society – cupbearer, peace-weaver, and memory-keeper – my gorgeous new girl Gytha Godwinson dares the unprecedented: she writes world history.
The Last Princess by Ellen Alpsten is published on 7 November, 2024.
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Ellen was born and raised in the Kenyan highlands and holds a MSc from the IEP de Paris. She worked as a News anchor for Bloomberg TV before writing fulltime. Her debut novel, Tsarina, and its sequel, The Tsarina’s Daughter, were widely translated and were shortlisted for numerous awards.
You may also be interested in reading:
The royal women of 10th-century England, ‘England’ in the 10th century and Adding the ‘little’ bits to enrich a story of Saxon historical fiction by MJ Porter
Anglo-Saxon women with power and influence and In search of Mercia by Annie Whitehead
From slave to queen: an extraordinary medieval woman and Battling with history: how to write fight scenes and battles in historical fiction by Matthew Harffy
The Norman Conquest in Numbers by James Aitcheson
The Other Conquest – 850th anniversary of the Norman invasion of Ireland and The Normans: Conquest Through Adaptation by Ruadh Butler
Images:
- The Normans attack the English at Hastings: Official Bayeux Tapestry digital representation, 11th century; Credentials: City of Bayeux, DRAC Normandie, University of Caen Normandie, CNRS, ENSICAEN, Pictures: 2017 – la Fabrique de patrimoines en Normandie (free for non-commercial use)
- Harold Godwinson: see 1
- The Normans and their horses board the invasion fleet: see 1
- The death of Harold: see 1
- Harold crowned in Westminster Abbey: see 1
- Silver penny of Harold Godwinson, 1066: PHGCOM for Wikimedia (public domain)
