WELCOME TO RACHEL’S FICTION WRITING AND REVIEWS BLOG
This is where Rachel keeps you up to date with her novels and stories and also shares reviews, highlights and extracts from other authors.
She Didn't Wait for Permission
International Women's Day asks us to celebrate the women who refused to accept the limits placed upon them. Who pushed back. Who led. Who endured. And every year, we tend to look to the recent past — to suffragettes, trailblazers, and glass-ceiling-breakers of the modern era.
But what about the women who did all of that eight hundred years before anyone thought to name it?
Meet Nicola de la Haye. Sheriff of Lincolnshire. Castellan of Lincoln Castle. The woman who, in 1217, successfully defended one of England's most strategically vital fortresses against a French-backed rebel army: at the age of approximately seventy. She didn't wait for permission, and she didn’t expect plaudits: because no one was going to give it.
What the Twelfth Century Said Women Were
The medieval world had very clear ideas about women's place in society, and those ideas were enforced from pulpit, court, and custom alike. Women were considered intellectually weaker than men, legally subordinate to their fathers and husbands, and spiritually suspect - daughters of Eve, prone to temptation and manipulation(!!!). Church fathers and contemporary writers were emphatic on the subject. Women should be silent, obedient, and invisible in public life.
I've explored just how relentless and inventive that misogyny was in my medieval misogyny series, including a look at the men who competed, with some enthusiasm, for the title of Worst Villain to Women of the 12th Century. It's a crowded field.
What Nicola de la Haye Actually Did
Nicola inherited the hereditary castellanship of Lincoln Castle from her father, and she held it through two marriages, through political upheaval, through sieges and civil wars, and with a grip that no one could prise loose. She administered justice, she negotiated with kings, defied a rogue justiciar who threatened the kingdom whilst Richard the Lionheart was on crusade, and she commanded garrisons and organised castle defences - incredibly well.
When King John's reign collapsed into civil war and a French prince threatened to take the English throne, Nicola was the one defending Lincoln.
She was also, at various points, told she was too old, too female, and too inconvenient. She resigned her position as castellan (constable), but was promptly reappointed, because no one else could do it as well as she could.
And one of King John’s last acts was to make her the first female sheriff in England - Sheriff of Lincoln.
This is the woman at the heart of my novel Lady of Lincoln: not a fictional heroine invented to fit a modern template, but a real woman whose story has simply been waiting to be told.
Herstory Refuses to Be Forgotten!
ady of Lincoln opens in 1168, when a fourteen-year-old Nicola de la Haye stood in the barracks of Lincoln Castle, a young girl surrounded by sleeping soldiers, determined to help a boy who didn't belong. It was a small act of defiance in a world that would soon demand much larger ones.
I'm honoured to share that Lady of Lincoln has been named a semi-finalist in the 2025 Chanticleer Chaucer Awards for Early Historical Fiction.
The novel has already won awards, and this is a highly prestigious one. Chuffed as I am, it’s not really about awards and recognition that I can weave a good tale (although I’m thrilled about that!). It's about what Nicola's story represents—a woman who inherited a barony and a castle in her own right, who found herself caught between impossible loyalties when her husband joined the Great Rebellion of 1173-4, and who chose to defend what was hers.
That’s what inspired me to write about her in the first place.
Fastrada: Charlemagne’s Queen History Tried to Forget
Charlemagne is usually thought of as the iron-willed king, crowned Emperor of the Romans in 800, architect of a European empire and champion of learning and reform. What we never hear about, however, are the women who stood beside him: women whose influence shaped politics, justice, and the fragile stability of his realm.
One of the most controversial of these women was Fastrada, Charlemagne’s fourth wife and queen, a woman remembered less for what she did than for how male chroniclers chose to describe her.
A Frankish Noblewoman in a Dangerous Court
Fastrada was born into the high Frankish nobility around the mid-8th century, the daughter of Count Radulf. Her marriage to Charlemagne in 783 was not a romantic match but a strategic one, strengthening ties between powerful families within the Frankish heartlands. This was a period when Charlemagne’s empire was expanding rapidly through conquest, forced conversion, and ruthless suppression of revolt.
Queens in the Carolingian world were not crowned consorts in the later medieval sense, but they were far from ornamental. They managed households, acted as intermediaries, dispensed patronage, and, crucially, advised the king. Fastrada arrived at court at a moment when Charlemagne’s rule was under strain from internal rebellion, particularly in Saxony.
“Cruel” Queen or Convenient Scapegoat?
Our surviving sources paint Fastrada in dark colours. Einhard, Charlemagne’s biographer, describes her as harsh and cruel, claiming that her influence made the king more severe in judgement. Later chroniclers echoed this, blaming her for brutal punishments meted out against rebels and dissenters.
But this raises an uncomfortable question: Was Fastrada truly cruel, or was she blamed for decisions Charlemagne himself made?
Early medieval queens were often held responsible when kings ruled harshly. Advising firmness could easily be reframed as bloodthirstiness, especially when the adviser was a woman. Fastrada’s reputation may tell us more about medieval anxieties over female influence than about her actual character.
It is worth noting that Charlemagne’s most notorious acts of brutality, including the mass executions of Saxons, predated and outlasted Fastrada’s life. Yet only she became a symbol of excessive severity.
Wu Zetian: The Woman Who Ruled an Empire
When we think of medieval power, the mind rarely leaps to a woman occupying the highest throne in one of the world’s greatest empires. Yet in 7th-century China, one woman did precisely that. Wu Zetian (624–705 CE) rose from low-ranking concubine to become China’s only female emperor; not merely empress consort, nor regent, but sovereign ruler in her own right.
In a world shaped by Confucian ideals that explicitly declared women inferior and unfit for leadership, her ascent was nothing short of astonishing.
And like many powerful women in history, Wu Zetian has been remembered through a haze of scandal, propaganda, and deliberate distortion. It’s time to peel back the layers and re-examine the woman behind the legend.
From Concubine to Emperor: A Rise Unlike Any Other
Wu Zetian entered the palace of Emperor Taizong as a teenage concubine; one among hundreds, hardly expected to influence politics. After Taizong’s death she should, by custom, have been sent to a Buddhist convent. Instead, she returned to the palace of his successor, Emperor Gaozong, beginning her ascent through skill, cunning, and what later historians would call “unwomanly ambition.”
Smooth Operator
But ambition alone did not place her on the throne. She possessed a sharp intelligence and administrative brilliance; a talent for identifying capable officials, many of whom became her loyal supporters; and a capacity to counter, outmanoeuvre, or neutralise rival factions.
When Gaozong suffered debilitating strokes, Wu Zetian took charge of state affairs. After his death, she ruled first through her sons and eventually dispensed with that formality entirely, proclaiming her own dynasty: the Zhou, and naming herself Huangdi, the imperial title previously reserved for male rulers.
Empress Theodora of Byzantium: She Saved an Empire
The latest in the blog series is a special treat for me. I’ve long been fascinated, but a bit in the dark, about the Byzantine Empire.
But it seems few women of the early Middle Ages rose as far—or have been judged as harshly—as Empress Theodora of Byzantium. Rising from the margins of Constantinople’s theatre world to become one of the most powerful women in imperial history, Theodora’s story is one of intelligence, ambition, resilience, and reinvention. And like so many extraordinary women, she was both celebrated and vilified by her contemporaries.
Who Was Empress Theodora?
Born around 500 CE, Theodora started life far from the purple. Her father was a bear trainer for the Hippodrome’s Blue faction, and after his death, Theodora and her sisters were pushed into the theatre—an environment that in Byzantium sat somewhere between entertainment, politics, and scandal. According to the hostile historian Procopius (more on him later), Theodora’s early life involved performance, satire, and possibly sex work—though his account is so malicious that modern historians tread carefully.
What we do know is that Theodora was:
Exceptionally intelligent, known for her quick wit and sharp political instincts
Socially mobile in a rigid society, rising from performer to respected mistress of the imperial court
Deeply religious, eventually embracing Monophysite Christianity
A political partner, not merely a wife, to Emperor Justinian I
When Justinian became emperor in 527 CE, Theodora ruled alongside him as Augusta, wielding extraordinary influence—sometimes surpassing that of her husband.