“She-Wolves: The Women Who Ruled England Before Elizabeth”, by Helen Castor

496 pages, Harper, ISBN-13: 978-0061430763

She-Wolves: The Women Who Ruled England Before Elizabeth by Helen Castor examines the lives of four women who were given the unenviable task of ruling in a man’s world. First of all, don’t be put off by the first section, seeing as it starts off with…Elizabeth Tudor. I know, right? But this actually makes sense, as it really seemed to set the tone of the book quite nicely and made the ending come back, full circle, to the Tudors. Throughout this multibiography of these unique women, Castor’s core argument is that, although not sole monarchs in the way that Mary and Elizabeth Tudor were, these four women were able to use their positions as family members and royal consorts to significantly influence and, to varying degrees, direct royal policy (to be honest, none appear as especially attractive in a power political sense, and all are ruthless in pursuing their aims and very capable of double-crossing and breaking promises). Tenacity seems to be another ability that they had by the bucket load. The Middle Ages were not for sissies. A further point that Castor makes is that, by the time the Tudor state came into being, conditions had changed sufficiently to weather the types of upsets that earlier would not have tolerated a woman ruler on her own. You’ve come a long way, babies.

Our first she-wolf is The Empress Matilda, daughter of King Henry I and widow of the Holy Roman Emperor Henry V, later the mother of the eventual King Henry II. Matilda is one of those queens who is hard to find any material on, as there are so few books or articles about her, either contemporaneous or latter. The heir to the throne after the death of her brother William, she saw that throne taken away from her by her cousin Stephen, which in turn caused Matilda to take up arms to fight for what was rightfully hers. Matilda’s civil war didn’t fail necessarily, as her son Henry ended up on her throne. I did like reading about Matilda and am glad that she was included in this book, as she is one of history’s greatest the forgotten queens.

Next comes Eleanor of Aquitaine, ruler in her own right of the Duchy of Aquitaine and wife, first, of King Louis VII of France and then, later, of King Henry II. I didn’t much like Eleanor’s portion of the book; oh, it was well written and complete – more so than Matilda’s – but it just seemed to unbalance the whole. There was probably no way around this, though seeing we know a lot more about Eleanor than Matilda, and that Eleanor ruled and reigned for so long. Eleanor’s word just comes across the pages and it is very clear about how strong of a woman she is, and while I would have liked to have more on her and Richard’s relationship, I did like this little summary of her. I have read two biographies on Eleanor – Eleanor of Aquitaine: The Mother Queen by Desmond Seward (reviewed on August 4, 2018) and Eleanor of Aquitaine: A Life by Alison Weir (reviewed on May 1, 2019) – and am still searching for one that does her justice.

She-wolf number three in the original she-wolf, Isabella of France, wife of King Edward II and later the mother of the eventual King Edward III. She was a very interesting character, the queen who is treated as if she is in the way of her own marriage. Her husband just kind of put her to the side and forgot about her as he pranced about with his (male) favorites. So, what does she do? Naturally, she and her lover Roger Mortimer stage a little rebellion and kills a few people. That’s all. I have to say, though, that after reading what a hash Ed the deuce made of…well, everything, I found myself having far more sympathy towards she-wolf Izzy than before; certainly her son Edward “Hey! I founded The Most Noble Order of the Garter!” III seemed to forgive and forget – and to rule nothing like his dad.

Our fourth she-wolf is Margaret of Anjou, wife of King Henry VI and, perhaps, the most put-upon of them all, married to a simpleton while fighting a civil war, to boot. Most of what I knew about her comes from the not-too-sympathetic portrayal of her in Shakespeare’s history plays, so the steely, determined woman presented here was rather a revelation. Her husband was mentally weak and she found herself, more often than not, ruling in his name. She tried to keep it together, but sadness was all there was. She tried so hard to hold onto the kingdom for her husband and king and their son, only to be put to the side. She was forced to return to Anjou – a widow who lost her only child – without any recognition of what she had done, then or now. Really, this woman’s life is a decades-long tragedy that deserves a Lifetime movie to do it justice.

Lastly, we come to Mary I, the first of the lot who inherited and ruled England in her own right, sometimes known simply as Mary Tudor and, less respectfully, as Bloody Mary. Try as she might, she could neither conceive a child nor return England to the Catholic fold. As usual, the Mary presented by Castor is mighty more sympathetic than the Mary one may be more familiar with from Protestant-leaning history books. Unable to do right by her discarded mother or faith, we see a sad creature attempting to stem the tide of a newborn world while attempting to resurrect a dead one, all while her supernova little sister awaits her demise from the wings. Really, it takes a good author indeed to make one feel sympathy for Bloody Mary.

Each of the five women are given a straight-up narrative which takes the reader from post-Conquest England to the advent of the Tudor monarchy. Castor doesn’t try to provide a complete linear view of the eras in question, but the periods examined do coincide with some of the most significant episodes of royal history during the period – and make no mistake it is Royal History, the focus being on the power politics of those in control with virtually no mention being made of anyone else or any other class. This is not a fault of the author, but a clear indication of the reality of Medieval Europe where, when its male monarchs had personal and political failings, the country was generally thrown into crisis which included baronial strife, conquest and counter-conquest with the obvious destruction of crops, villages and property of those not considered by those leading armies to restore Order.

As to why these women had the influence that they did, one need only look at the men they contested power with: Stephen was probably too soft for the age; Henry II was a bull in a China shop while Richard and John were shits in their own ways; Edward II had a knack of choosing male friends who antagonized his lords; Henry VI was an ineffectual simpleton. In each case a “she-wolf” arose to fill the power vacuum – some more successfully than others. While the early chapter on Matilda suffers from a lack of primary material and some weak assumptions, the other chapters each get stronger and, even having read other authors on these reigns, I found plenty of new stuff to keep me interested. By the end of She-Wolves you can’t help feeling that, had any of these women been born in a later, more enlightened age, they would have done just fine raising hell all on their own.

“Heroes and Villains: Inside the Minds of the Greatest Warriors in History”, by Frank McLynn

384 pages, Pegasus Books, ISBN-13: 978-1605980294

On March 9 of 2018 I reviewed Richard and John: Kings at War by Frank McLynn and described it as “a book that is simultaneously a joy to read and a chore to get through”. Well, ditto for Frank McLynn’s Heroes and Villains: Inside the Minds of the Greatest Warriors in History (guess I shoulda learned my lesson the first time around, huh?). This work is a series of mini-bios of six hell-raisers from across history:

• Spartacus, The gladiator who brought Rome to its knees 
• Attila the Hun, The Mafioso-warrior 
• Richard the Lionheart, England’s greatest warrior-king 
• Cortés, The renegade Conquistador 
• Tokugawa Ieyasu, Japan’s legendary Shogun 
• Napoleon, The master tactician and military genius

No reason is given as to why these six men in particular were chosen, but one can gather that they each represent a different era of warfare and, therefore, are the paragons of the same. I guess. I mean, Napoleon is obvious, as is (maybe) Richard Cœur de Lion, but Spartacus? While he was, no doubt, a great leader who managed to keep his collection of runaway slaves together through thick and thin, all of his victories were against third-string legionaries led by mediocre commanders. Attila the Hun was a master of mounted warfare (well, he was a Hun, wasn’t he?), but when the might of the fading Roman Empire at last mustered itself for one last throw of the dice he was done for; the only thing that saved him was the fact that Flavius Aëtius, his Roman antagonist (and sometime friend, BTW) refused to destroy him, as this would have broken up the carefully crafted coalition he had painstakingly assembled to hit the Huns. Cortés benefited from superior technology and the defections of the Aztec’s many subservient tribes to his cause; as for his battles, they were one running slug-fest after another in which the last man standing was declared the victor. Tactics? Strategy? Bah…kill ‘em all. Tokugawa is the biggest mystery of all, and not because he is the only Easterner in this collection of Western fighters; as McLynn states several times, Tokugawa…WAS NOT A GERNERAL! Rather, he was a master Machiavellian with an endless reservoir of patience and a knack of finding the right moment to screw his enemies and allies over; all of his victories – especially the last, the Battle of Sekigahara – were won when key allies of his opponents defected to his side.

Beyond that, McLynn promised that he would get Inside the Minds of the Greatest Warriors in History and, well…he doesn’t. The last chapter promises to do so, although by now one would have thought that this summing up would have been unnecessary. I mean, c’mon, Frank, you devoted a whole chapter each to get all Freudian on these cats, why another chapter telling us what you were supposed to have already told us?! While we were given a thumbnail biography of each man, along with a summary of their greatest achievements, by the time I slammed the covers closed on this book, I didn’t feel as if I was any closer to knowing what made these guys tick than I was when I cracked the spine. So Heroes and Villains is an okay overview of Spartacus, Attila the Hun, Richard the Lionheart, Cortés, Tokugawa Ieyasu and Napoleon, but nothing more.

“Caesar: Let the Dice Fly”, by Colleen McCullough

664 pages, William Morrow & Company, ISBN-13: 978-0688093723

Caesar: Let the Dice Fly by Colleen McCullough is the fifth book in her “Masters of Rome” series and spans the years 54 to 48 BC. The series has a thesis (first introduced in 1939 by Sir Ronald Syme in his epic historical treatise “The Roman Revolution”): as Rome became more powerful within the Mediterranean world, the old ways of doing things – through the deliberation of various interests, mainly aristocratic and mercantile – became impossibly cumbersome. It became more and more difficult to govern an empire with institutions originally designed to administer a city-state. Certain powerful leaders (especially Marius, Sulla, and Caesar) tried to create a state in which they had autocratic power but also preserved the externals of the old ways. They were opposed by the conservatives (called the optimates by classical historians, though they themselves preferred the title boni or “good men”). The obtuse or simply ignorant resistance of these reactionaries, who are all (except for Cato) presented as degenerate or self-serving, made the creation of an autocracy necessary. The result was the birth of an imperial monarchy, and a radically different organization of power. Each book in the series features a detailed glossary, hand-drawn illustrations of the major characters, and notes by McCullough detailing her reasoning for portraying certain events in certain ways.

The novel opens in 54 BC, with Caesar in the middle of his epochal Gallic campaigns, having just invaded Britannia. The first half of the novel deals broadly with the conclusion of his conquests in Gaul, and the second half narrates the growing sense of unease in Rome concerning Caesar’s intentions, the antagonism of the conservative boni faction towards him, his crossing of the Rubicon, his invasion of Italy and his victory in the Civil War. Some of the pivotal moments include Caesar’s return from Britannia; his narrow escape during the Battle of Gergovia; his great victory at the Siege of Alesia; his final destruction of the Gallic resistance at the Siege of Uxellodunum; the death of Julia and Marcus Licinius Crassus; his falling out with Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus and the final collapse of the First Triumvirate system; his failed negotiations concerning his re-election as consul; the opening of the Civil War; the Battles of Dyrrhachium and the of Pharsalus; the flight of Pompey to Ptolemaic Egypt and his assassination there; and the scattering of the boni leadership. That’s all.

McCullough makes no apologies in her historical favorable depiction of Caesar, and she does not brush aside what today we would consider his war crimes – although Caesar, and the people of his day would have laughed at the very concept of a war crime – as war was destroy or be destroyed, no rules, not a game fought by gentlemen and guided by international law. So yes, Caesar in the process of his conquests killed over a million people, enslaved an equal number, cut off hands etc., and was ruthless; in the end, he accomplished what very few in the world have ever been able to accomplish: Peace; the Roman Peace, or Pax Romana, that lasted centuries. Of course, there were rebellions to be put down, but large scale warfare that affected the whole empire was a thing of the past for that time. McCullough provides such depth into the understanding of ancient Rome and the world that surrounded it, that one comes to appreciate Caesar, for all his flaws (and he had several) as – yes I will say it – for his day Caesar was very much a liberal: he was not at all a racist and was very inclusive; he did not look down on people and appreciated men of accomplishment vs birth. Bottom line is that McCullough makes Caesar a real person (of tremendous ambition and intellect) – puts ancient Rome in a light that was truly Rome, not the fabled Rome of gladiators and circuses – but of real men and women of that time.