The Plantagenets: The Warrior Kings and Queens Who Made England

“His first name, William, was in honor of his grandfather, William the Conqueror. His sobriquet, ‘Aetheling’, was a traditional Anglo-Saxon title for the heir to the throne.”

Jones highlights the significance of the forename and title combining Norman and Anglo-Saxon culture to create a continuous dynastic narrative, backing up William’s right to inherit leadership. This also reflects the dominant political community in this period that spanned Normandy and England, representing a shared culture that drew on the traditions of both areas. Jones’s introduction of the deliberate political and cultural use of names here paves the way for his inclusion of this detail throughout the rest of the narrative, in which he highlights how name selection represented statements of intent and ethos by the kings. This consideration of William’s name is also a narrative device: Jones humanizes him and shows his political importance, adding to the drama of his imminent death.

“The production line of royal heirs would continue in the womb of a different queen. It is hard to believe that Eleanor felt anything but relief.”

Jones uses this annulled marriage to offer observations about politically eminent women in this period. He illustrates women’s criticality in a bloodline-centered culture; his description of the “production line” reflects that this could paradoxically dehumanize them, as kings such as Eleanor’s first husband, Louis, reduced them to this role. Jones juxtaposes this dehumanization with a broader narrative that stresses Eleanor’s agency and political power in her own right. Immediately after this annulment, she tactically selected her next marriage and continued to assert her duchy’s rights, even against her husband. Jones also humanizes Eleanor, hypothesizing about her feelings to add pathos to his account.

“Henry discovered a realm in a state of total war-weariness. It was his response to these conditions, as much as his military successes, that enabled him to make advances.”

 Jones offers a glimpse of social history through a political lens, summing up the state of England towards the end of the Anarchy. This “weariness” applied to not only the great magnates and local leaders but also the rank and file of the armies whose refusals to fight determined several outcomes and helped transform the conflict into a diplomatic negotiation rather than continuing war. Jones shows the two-way relationship between life for ordinary people and the decisions of important political players: each impacted the other.

“It would have been a time of great grief for the family. But child mortality was a fact even of royal life in the Middle Ages, and the best insurance against it was a large brood of children.”

Jones adds pathos to his narrative by acknowledging familial grief at the loss of a child. He humanizes Eleanor and the rest of the royal family by stressing that despite their political importance they still experienced personal tragedy. He weaves this personal narrative approach with tidbits of social history, using it to highlight the high rates of child mortality in this period and show how this impacted social practices and structures (for example, the large family unit as a pillar of society). He shows how this social history manifested in politics through the need to have multiple possible heirs to create stability.

“View from the distance of centuries Henry’s tactics resemble imperial expansion […] in reality, his policy was more pragmatic. Henry aimed, in simple terms, to pursue all his rights, in all his capacities, at all times.”

Jones presents two different possible interpretations of Henry’s reign and alludes to the historiographical concept that history is inevitably viewed through the lens of society studying it. He suggests that according to modern structural and cultural frameworks, Henry’s actions resemble the deliberate building of an empire. However, Jones highlights the medieval context, in which power structures did not form a single uniform model. Henry owned a collection of territories and titles that came with differing rights and obligations. He interprets Henry’s actions as a pragmatic exactitude about his rights through these sprawling territories, rather than an attempt to create a single power bloc with a uniform culture and type of political leadership.

“The two men talked together as the night grew late. Richard’s death made no sense. Had he been punished for greed? For lust? Was God angry? It was impossible to know.” 

Jones depicts an imagined conversation between two observers and political players. He switches into a different narrative voice, which expresses the hypothesized thoughts and feelings of these people. This brings the scene to life and offers an insight into a medieval mindset. He uses rhetorical questions to highlight the assumption that God’s intentions underlay all human affairs, including Richard I’s random death. Their acceptance of their position of ignorance as contemporaries also emphasizes the impossibility of a modern historian truly knowing the personal details of Richard’s life.

“They ceased almost overnight to become Anglo-Normans; and pledged their allegiance either as English subjects or French. The Channel became a divide, rather than a causeway between kingdom and duchy.”

Jones highlights the enormity of geopolitical changes under John. With the loss of Normandy, most magnates no longer had interests in both sides of the Channel. This seriously reduced the English political community’s willingness to follow their king into continental wars, something that had significant consequences in the reigns of many kings to come. This moment cemented a divide between French territories and English, paving the way for years of hostility and competition. This separated a shared Anglo-Norman culture into two camps, marking a step in the gradual shift toward the political and cultural structure of the nation-state.

“[A] great magnate might run up a potentially massive debt to the Crown for his feudal dues. Frequently, however, this debt remained notional, and it was never fully called in […] it was instead a form of financial bond between king and subject.”

This quotation reveals the complex, nebulous nature of political structures at this time, which had formal, financial elements and were based on mutual trust and the honoring of obligations: the king to protect his magnates (not financially crippling them) and the magnate to support his king (for example, by following him to war or enforcing local stability). Jones describes how John instead took feudal dues literally, converting them into a revenue stream and severely undermining his relationship with his magnates. These incidents lead to an increasing demand to formalize and define both royal and magnate rights and powers to prevent unprecedented or tyrannical behavior.

“These questions would lie at the heart of every major disagreement between king and country for the rest of the Plantagenet years […] As a peace treaty—for this is what it was—Magna Carta was an immediate failure.”

Jones explores the role of the Magna Carta in the specific context of its origin, in contrast to its lasting significance in English political, legal, and constitutional development. It failed as a term for peace because there was no way to enforce it: the clause seeking to cement obligation was just a contractual renewal of civil war. However, it laid out a formal precedent for the cultural spirit of kingship in the interest of subjects, and the structural limitation of monarchical power as bound by its laws, with the recognition of rights that superseded royal prerogative. In its specific terms, it was specific and limited: it aimed to protect barons and some other parties, such as the city of London, or widows. However, it represented a foundational stone on which future charters and reforms were built.

“Was anything he did more truly grotesque than those deeds perpetuated by his brother Richard, or his father? Probably they were not, yet John’s reputation suffered far more than theirs.”

Jones highlights the gulf in reputation between John and his predecessors, questioning whether this accurately reflects the realities of their reigns. Jones uses a rhetorical question to address the reader, creating a tone of debate. This encourages an engagement in the biases of the primary sources, and the subsequent popular narratives of John’s reign. In using the heightened word “grotesque” Jones questions the role of subjective moral judgment in history but also engages with it, offering his own opinion (“probably they were not”).

 “The king had been returned, joyfully, to his son Edward, and was sent for recuperation in Gloucester and Marlborough castles, where he busied himself in the typically Henrican business of restoring altar-plates.”

Jones shows the shift in power from Henry III to his son Edward; even though Henry was alive, Edward was in control, having won the victory over de Montfort. Henry was treated as a valuable asset moved around the country by others rather than a leader; Jones uses the passive voice to recall Henry’s timidity and passivity in decision-making in his early reign. The word “joyful” suggests his continued personal and political significance to Edward, as his father. Jones highlights Henry’s physical frailty, as he was sent to recover. The anecdote about the altar-plates ties into Jones’s presentation of Henry’s piety, both as a personal trait and a part of his culture of kingship; it recalls his use of religious activity to escape from the other pressures of kingship, going on a pilgrimage when faced with the magnates’ dissent.

“The young Edward was therefore known both to his supporters and his detractors not as a lionheart, but as a leopard: fierce but changeable.”

Jones paints a detailed character portrait of Edward I, tying his personal qualities to his political leadership. He presents him as obsessed with martial valor but also cruel and mercenary, fitting with his ruthless subjugation of Wales and his continual war with Scotland. He acknowledges mixed responses to Edward’s reign from contemporaries, noting that his qualities as a person and king could be interpreted positively or negatively. He compares him to a “lionheart” to draw a parallel between Edward’s militarism and that of Richard I but uses the word leopard to draw attention to Edward’s more complex reputation.

“That took money, and money took consensus. ‘What touches all should be approved by all’ was Edward’s new motto when summoning gatherings of his political community.”

Jones illustrates Edward I’s pragmatic approach to funding his militarism by maintaining political goodwill. He also sums up the broader development of governmental structures and culture that Edward’s compromises were a part of. Throughout this period, there was a gradual formalization of the process of kings using political negotiation to gain funds. Edward’s statement of political rights as a general ideology shows that by this point, these developments had created a broad conceptual recognition of magnates’ rights to representation. It offers a nascent democratic sentiment, laying a foundation for future developments, though Edward used this phrase with a limited and specific remit.

 “The queen stayed in France, with her brother’s satisfied support, taunting the king of England who had so abused her and drawing around her a coalition of disaffected English nobles and prelates. […] she symbolized her disgust with and alienation from her husband by wearing the black robes of mourning.”

Jones explores Isabella’s character and tactical assertion of her agency once she was safely abroad in her brother’s court. She used the soft power afforded by her royal sibling and his rivalry with England. Her use of performative visual symbols allowed her to present her narrative of her decision to separate from Edward. The black widow’s robes positioned her as the blameless party who has lost her marriage, rather than Edward: she always played her role as a supportive wife, but he did not treated her with the respect she was owed. In this anecdote, Jones acknowledges the agency of women in this period and gives an example of their use of connections and their personhood to assert their rights.

“Finally, the archbishop of Canterbury gave a sermon in French, using the text ‘the voice of the people is the voice of God’. When he had finished telling the assembly that God had heard their prayers for a remedy to the evils of Edward’s reign, he introduced the fourteen-year-old boy.”

This quotation highlights the power of religion in the medieval world, pointing to the influence the church had on the king’s authority and bodies of the political community. The archbishop’s use of divine backing on behalf of the collective political community in their dissent against Edward subverts the idea of the king as a representative of God. It highlights that the Church’s role in the notion of a king’s divine appointment expressed through ceremonies such as coronations, afforded it real political power. Here, the archbishop uses his position to imbue the early appointment of the next king with divine right. The performance of this before a parliament-like assembly and the idea of “the people” having a voice also reflects the developing structures and notions of broader political representation.

 “[H]e was careful not to emulate Roger Mortimer’s arrogant assumption of the legendary king’s role. During the 1330s, Edward preferred to identify himself as one of the simple knights of the Round Table—most frequently Sir Lionel.”

This quotation encapsulates Edward I’s studied, deliberate approach to the art of kingship. He balanced his expression of marital virtue with shows of humility, placing himself in the role of a noble knight but not the legendary Arthur, in contrast to Mortimer. This communicated his respect for his courtly peers, creating a sense of a shared chivalric culture rather than one that venerated him at the expense of those beneath him. Mortimer himself had first cast Edward as Lionel; Edward reclaimed this characterization, wearing Lionel’s arms and naming his third son Lionel. This allowed Edward to continue using Arthurian legend to build his courtly culture. At the same time, it demarcated him from the unpopular Mortimer, subtly communicating his moral superiority by referencing Mortimer’s pride.

“From Tudor times he would be known as the Black Prince, for his (supposedly) black armour and diabolical soldierly reputation. In 1337, however, he was given a new title to reflect his importance as heir to the throne of England. Edward III created him duke of Cornwall—the first time that the French title duc had been translated to England.”

Jones explores the significance of creating the heir Duke of Cornwall specifically, a practice that has continued to the modern day. The title duke demarcated the holder from other magnates and gave him privileges and status specific to this rank. This quotation also draws attention to the chronological distance of this history and the fact that it is viewed through the lens of not just the 21st century but the intervening years too. Jones continues to call Prince Edward “The Black Prince” throughout the rest of the book, as it is the most popularly recognizable name for him today, showing that the enduring power of Tudor depictions of history has shaped modern conceptions.

“Here was the vital difference between the sides, and an advantage that would play out for much of the Hundred Years War: the longbow was the deadliest weapon in the field.”

Jones pinpoints the crucial technology and related tactics that enabled England’s famous victory at the battle of Crécy: the longbow. He threads battle scenes like this throughout his narrative, adding drama and excitement and acknowledging the martial nature of kingship in this period and the Plantagenets’ constant military endeavors. Though the longbow had developed for some time and was used decisively already against Scotland, Jones identifies this battle as a turning point in military history, heralding the arrival of this weaponry on the international scene and its undermining of the previous tactical dominance of cavalry. His note that this advantage continued well into the future refers to the longbow as a weapon used specifically by the English and Welsh; requiring training from childhood, it was not technology that could quickly be introduced into other armies.

“Settlements particularly weakened during the floods and the Great Famine of 1315-22 were wiped out completely. The great death spared no one for the sake of the virtue of their class. From princesses like Joan to beggars who bled and vomited to death in the streets…”

Jones addresses one of the defining events of European history in this period: the plague. This quotation shows the enormous extent of its impact on society, changing the maps as some settlements vanished completely. Jones highlights that this disease killed more widely and indiscriminately than all the preceding wars. He gives a detailed description of the symptoms, imbuing his narrative with literary realism to create shock value. His account of the young Joan dying on the way to her wedding adds pathos, allowing him to combine scale with a personal story.

“Their presence was viewed by many ordinary people as a punishment sent from God. It was viewed by the new king as an impediment to stable government.”

Jones highlights the connection between political activity and the lives of ordinary people, showing the severe impact of roving mercenaries on the local populace. He suggests that the fate of ordinary people was not a deep concern to the political classes, who saw this activity as an “impediment.” Nonetheless, it impacted them; they were at the top of a hierarchy where power stemmed from the ability to protect and govern those beneath. The French king needed to restore order for his security. Jones also illustrates the pervasive role of religion in medieval society to make sense of events.

“In an effort to prevent such bloody misery from ever again afflicting England, Edward III had passed the Statute of Treason in 1351, which limited the definition of the crime […] Now Richard was blowing the definition of treason wide open once again.”

Jones compares Edward III and Richard II’s attitudes towards authoritarian versus cooperative government. He shows the legal definitions Edward put in place that aimed to prevent the arbitrary, quasi-judicial use of the charge of treason to remove enemies at will. However, Richard II, in centering power in himself, was not concerned with acting within constitutional precedents or written boundaries; he redefined this charge, using it against anyone seeking reform or the regulation of his household.

 “The king wanted, in drafts of the pact, to bind Charles VI to provide military aid against the people of England if he felt it was necessary.”

France was a traditional enemy and was currently at war with England; Richard II’s invitation to French military intervention on English soil if he felt threatened domestically was shocking. This was one of several indications throughout his reign that he would turn to the French king for aid against his people. His predecessors’ reforms placed parliamentary proceedings into English, indicating a sense of English identity amongst all classes of people that began to supersede class identity. In contrast to Edward III, Richard’s wishes suggest he felt the opposite. To him, his divine kingly status and nature were the defining factors above his tie to England, placing the sociopolitical hierarchy over national identity.

“Out of the Plantagenets’ military legacy emerged, too, the foundations of the relationship between England and the rest of the British Isles […] This was only the beginning of a story that has yet to end.”

Jones highlights that his narrative represents a formative time for the relationships between different parts of the British Isles. Plantagenet kings pursued the Arthurian ideal of the whole region being brought under one rule and unifying culturally. At times, it seemed possible, such as Edward I’s subjugation of Wales and Anglicizing reforms there. Jones relates his narrative to the modern day by suggesting that today’s unity, commonalities, continuing tensions, distinct cultures, and separatist movements all stem from this period.