To Defy a King

“It’s not fair!” Ten-year-old Mahelt Marshal scowled at her older brothers who were immersed in a boys’ game involving a pretend raid on an enemy castle. “Why can’t I be a knight?”

“Girls don’t go raiding,” Will answered with the superiority that came from being male, almost fourteen, and heir to the Earldom of Pembroke.

She made a grab for his horse’s reins and he snatched them out of her reach.

“Girls stay at home and embroider and bear children. Only men go to war.”

“Women have to defend the castle when their lords are away,” she pointed out. “Mama does—and you have to obey her.” Tossing her head, she looked at Richard, who was twelve and could sometimes be persuaded to take her part; but, although a broad grin sprawled across his freckled face, he didn’t leap to her defence.

“She has to do our lord father’s bidding when he returns,” Will retorted. “Papa doesn’t send her out with a lance in her hand while he stays at home, does he?”

“I can pretend; it’s all pretend anyway.” Mahelt was determined not to be bettered. “You’re not a man.”

Richard’s grin widened as Will flushed. “Let her defend the castle,” he said. “She might have to do it one day when she’s married.”

Will rolled his eyes, but gave in. “All right, but she’s not a knight, and she’s not riding Equus.”

“Of course not.”

“And she can be the French. We’re the English.”

“That’s not fair!” Mahelt protested again.

“Don’t play then,” Will said indifferently.

She shot her brothers a fulminating look. She wanted to ride Will’s new mount because it was a proper, big, glossy horse, not a pony. She wanted to jump him over hedges as Will did and see how fast she could make him gallop. She wanted to feel the wind in her hair. Will had called him Equus, which he said was the Latin name the scribes wrote meaning “warhorse.” Richard’s docile grey wasn’t the same challenge, and she had almost outgrown her own dumpy little chestnut, which was stabled up with a leg strain. She knew she could ride as well as either of her brothers.

Heaving a sigh, she stumped off with bad grace to defend the “castle,” which for the purposes of the game was the kennelkeeper’s hut. Here were stored the collars and leashes for the hounds, old blankets, hunting horns, various tools, baskets, and bowls. A shelf at Mahelt’s eye level held chubby earthenware pots of salve for treating canine injuries. Mahelt took one down, removed the lid of plaited straw, and immediately recoiled from the vile stench of rancid goose grease.

“Ready?” she heard Richard shout.

Her left arm crooked around the pot, Mahelt emerged from the shed and, with a resolute jaw, faced the youths, who were fretting their mounts. Both boys bore makeshift lances fashioned from ash staves, and gripped their practice shields at the ready.

Uttering simultaneous yells, the brothers charged. Knowing they expected her to lose her courage and dash back inside the shed, Mahelt stood her ground. She scooped up a handful of grease, feeling it cold and squidgy-soft between her fingers, and lobbed it at the oncoming horses. Will ducked behind his shield, which took the first impact, but Mahelt’s next dollop struck him over the rawhide rim, splattering his cloak and the side of his neck. Another scoop burst on the shoulder of Richard’s grey. His efforts to control his shying mount left him exposed and her fourth handful landed a direct hit to his face.

“Hah! You’re both dead!” She leaped gleefully up and down.

“I win, I win!” Triumph burned in her solar plexus. That was showing them.

Will was off his horse like lightning. Mahelt shrieked and tried to run inside the shed, but he was too fast and caught her arm. She spun round in his grip and struck his chest with her salve-covered hand, smearing his cloak with rancid grease.

“It’s dishonourable to hit a lady!” she cried as he raised a threatening fist.

Will looked at his bunched knuckles and, lowering his arm, gave her a disgusted shove instead. “Look what you’ve done to my cloak! I pity whoever gets you to wife. You’re a hoyden.” Mahelt raised her chin, determined not to show remorse or be browbeaten. “But I still won,” she said. “Against both of you.”

“Will, leave her,” Richard said with exasperation, wiping his face. “Let’s go. There are better places to practise. We’d get more hurled at us in a real battle than handfuls of old grease.”

With a final glare, Will flung round and remounted Equus. “It looks as if you’ve lost after all,” he said as he gathered his reins.

Through a blur of angry tears she watched her brothers ride away. Raising her hand to wipe her eyes, she found the stink of the salve on her fingers suddenly unbearable. She was cold, hungry, and empty. Her victory was a hollow one and she was going to be in trouble for wasting the hound-keeper’s salve and dirtying her brothers’ clothes. She returned the pot to its shelf and closed the shed door. When she turned round, she jumped, because Godfrey, her father’s under-chamberlain, was standing behind her. “Your parents are seeking you, young mistress.” He wrinkled his nose. “God’s eyes, what have you been doing?”

“Nothing.” She gave him an imperious look to cloak her guilt. “Defending the castle.”

Godfrey said nothing, but his gaze was eloquent.

“What do they want?” Facing both parents at once was generally reserved for serious misdemeanours. Her mother had eyes in the back of her head, but surely she couldn’t know about the grease-throwing yet and Mahelt couldn’t think of anything else she had done recently to warrant such a command.

“I do not know, young mistress. Your lady mother just said to fetch you.”

Decidedly on her guard, Mahelt followed him to the solar, pausing on the way to sluice her hands in the trough and wipe them on a net of hay tied to the stable wall.

Her mother and father were sitting before the hearth in their private chamber, and she saw a glance flicker between them as she entered. She could sense an atmosphere, but it wasn’t angry. Gilbert and Walter, her two younger brothers, were playing a dice game on the floor and a nurse was attending to her little sisters, Belle aged four, and two-year-old Sybire.

Her mother patted the bench and Mahelt came to sit in the space her parents had made for her between them. The fire embraced her with warmth. The hangings were drawn across the window shutters and the mellow glow from numerous beeswax candles made the room feel cosy and welcoming. Her mother smelled wonderfully of roses and the arm she slipped around Mahelt to cuddle her was tender and maternal. Mahelt decided her brothers were welcome to their silly game. Parental attention was better, especially if she wasn’t in trouble. She thought it odd that her father was holding her floppy cloth doll in his big hands and looking at it in a pensive manner. Seeing her watching him, he put it down and smiled, but his eyes were serious.

“You remember a few weeks ago, the Christmas court at Canterbury?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes, Papa.” It had been lovely—all the feasting and dancing and celebration. She had felt so grown up, being allowed to mingle with the adults. She had been wary of King John because she knew her mother disliked him, but she thought the jewels he wore around his neck were magnificent. Sapphires and rubies, so her cousin Ela had said, all the way from Sarandib.

“You remember Hugh Bigod?”

“Yes, Papa.” The heat from the fire was suddenly hot on her face. She picked up her doll and began fussing with it herself. Hugh was grown up, but he had partnered her in a circle dance, clasping her hand and winding her through the chain. Later he had organised games of hoodman blind and hunt the slipper for the younger ones, joining in himself with great enthusiasm. He had a rich singing voice and a smile that made her stomach flutter, although she didn’t know why. One day he would be Earl of Norfolk.

Characters you care about. Or loathe. Atmosphere so pungent you can almost smell it. And juicy chunks of violent medieval history you can enjoy in the climate-controlled safety of your own home. A star back in Britain, Elizabeth Chadwick is finally getting the attention she deserves here. To Defy a King centers on a true-life young noblewoman. We meet Mahelt Marshal at age 10 in 1204 and follow her through her marriage to the Earl of Norfolk. We watch her struggle to navigate the rivalries created by evil King John. Chadwick shows us how her characters are motivated by passions about family and honor that seem very foreign to modern sensibilities.

Ms. Chadwick has a way of telling her stories that pulls me from my current surroundings and submerges me in the place of her tale. Her eye for detail AND storytelling is so good that you forget where and almost who you are and just join the characters in the book.

I highly recommend reading To Defy A King, and for that matter all of Ms. Chadwick's books. They are really a true treat to read. I found I tucked myself into bed quite early at night just so I could read their story for hours and hours.

Ms. Chadwick's reputation precedes her, but her actual writing exceeds her reputation by a mile. I was really taken by the ease with which Elizabeth writes about history.There wasn't a dull moment in this book.

After reading four of Elizabeth Chadwick’s books I don’t think that there is anything she can do wrong in writing this genre. The characters are wonderful – fleshed out, individual, not stereotypical and graceful. The blend of action scenes and emotional scenes are well balanced. You come away from each of these books wanting more!

One of my favourite medieval authors, the super talented Ms. Chadwick, is at it again with her latest offering, To Defy a King. I always marvel at how easily she seems to bring these characters to life all the while helping her 21st century readers understand and appreciate times from long ago.



4/5 Excellent! This vivid and engrossing tale of a noble daughter's life will draw you in, so set aside a few hours for the reading!

You know you can't go wrong with Elizabeth Chadwick's writing, as she has gained fans around the world. I doubt anyone bothers reading this review because of the fact that almost everyone has the same opinions of her..Chadwick is an icon for the historical fiction community for her ability to create a believable and passionate story based around major events of the era

I have to be honest and say that this was the first book of Elizabeth Chadwicks that I have read and I was very impressed with her writing. The author wrote of these characters and timeframe with as much historical accuracy that can be put in a work of fiction. I can see why To Defy A King is Historical Novel of the Year by the Romantic Novelists’ Association. So congrats to Elizabeth on a great book!

Each and every time I read a book by Elizabeth Chadwick I am certain she has written the perfect book that cannot be topped. And each and every time I read her next book, I find I am wrong.

She seamlessly weaved historical facts with real life characters and events in to breathtaking historical fiction. She captured my imagination and my heart.


Elizabeth Chadwick to me, in a Queen of historical Fiction.

A big yes for historical fans. There is love, war, politics, a wicked king and the daily life of a noble family in 13th century England. I could not put it down.


If you are like me and love travelling back in time, I think you'll want to devour Elizabeth Chadwick's books.

This is a great Middle Ages biographical fiction that enables fans of Elizabeth Chadwick to feel they are “living the history”.

I recommend this book to anyone who loves strong female characters and/or historical fiction. This is the first book I read by Ms. Chadwick -- I know it won't be my last.



It is a fantastic book that I highly recommend. Elizabeth Chadwick books seem to get better and better and she is now one of my favourite historical authors.

Chadwick again captures the inherent complexity of medieval alliances and rivalries in this irresistibly readable historical romance featuring a willful and wily heroine ensnared in a particularly thorny political hornet’s nest. Chadwick’s characters step directly off the pages of history into this fresh fictional reimagining of a perilous time and place.

It is no surprise that Chadwick is one of the most respected authors of medieval historical novels. 4 1/2 Stars, Top Pick of the Month

“a well-told saga filled with just the right amount of exacting period detail. Both longtime fans and readers new to Chadwick’s series will be thrilled.”

Format: Paperback

Dimensions
Length: 8 in
Width: 5.25 in
Weight: 19.52 oz
Page Count: 544 pages