Lady of the Castle follows a hereditary constable as she defends Lincoln Castle, navigates a fractured marriage, and struggles to protect her family during the political, military, and religious upheavals of 12th-century England. What inspired you to write this story?

I first discovered Nicola de la Haye when visiting Lincoln Castle. She was a remarkable figure: an heiress, landholder and hereditary constable of Lincoln Castle who defended it through two sieges and remained politically active into her sixties, and is named by one historian as ‘The woman who saved England’. Yet, despite the importance of her achievements, her story is little known, and her personal life even less so.

The surviving records tell us what Nicola owned, whom she married and which kings she served, but not what those experiences cost her. Her first husband rebelled against the king, her second was accused of treason. She had to withstand sieges and hold a garrison together, and all in a time period were women were expected to remain silent, be subservient to men, and were treated more as property than individuals in their own right.

I wanted to imagine the woman behind the official record—not simply as a medieval heroine who commanded men and defended a castle, but as a wife, mother and flawed human being attempting to protect the people she loved.

Lady of the Castle begins where the first novel in the series ends, as Henry II dies and England enters another period of instability. Richard I departs on crusade, Prince John manoeuvres for power, and old loyalties begin to fracture. Nicola’s own family and marriage become entangled in those national conflicts. I was especially drawn to the idea of a woman capable of defending a fortress while finding the relationships within her own household far more difficult to save.

How did you balance Nicola’s public authority as constable with her private experiences of grief, marriage, and motherhood?

I never saw those as separate parts of Nicola. Her public authority affects the way she behaves within her family, while her private grief influences the decisions she makes as constable. She has survived in a world dominated by men by being decisive, vigilant and unwilling to surrender control. Those qualities make her a formidable leader, but they can also make it difficult for her to admit vulnerability, accept help or recognise that the people she loves may need something from her other than protection.

Her grief after the death of her young son lies at the centre of the novel. Nicola believes she can master grief through duty, just as she might master a military crisis by strengthening walls and preparing supplies. Instead, her refusal to confront it damages her relationships with her husband and surviving children.

I wanted Nicola’s strength to remain genuine without making her infallible. She can command a garrison, challenge royal officials and endure a siege, but she cannot simply order her marriage or family back into harmony. Her emotional journey is about understanding that responsibility does not always mean taking control. Sometimes it requires honesty, trust and the courage to allow other people to make their own choices.

How did you approach portraying England’s Jewish communities and the growing danger they faced during this period?

I wanted the Jewish characters to be presented first as individuals, families and members of a living community—not merely as victims waiting for persecution to arrive. Bella, Berechiah, Leon, Licoricia and the other Jewish characters have marriages, disagreements, ambitions, religious obligations and ordinary domestic concerns. Their lives intersect with those of their Christian neighbours through friendship, trade, debt and shared experience, while remaining rooted in their own faith and traditions.

Research was therefore essential. I read historical studies of Jewish life in medieval England as well as work on religious observance, family structures, moneylending and the legal position of Jewish people under the Crown. I was particularly conscious that much of the surviving evidence was written by Christian chroniclers or preserved through financial and legal records, so it often presents Jewish people through the eyes of those who taxed, accused or attacked them.

The danger facing the community grows gradually in the novel. Royal exploitation, crusading fervour, debt and political instability combine with familiar prejudice until neighbours can be transformed into targets. I wanted readers to understand that violence did not emerge from nowhere. It was enabled by political decisions, religious rhetoric and the willingness of individuals to benefit from the vulnerability of others.

At the same time, I did not want persecution to become the only defining feature of these characters. Their story is also one of faith, love, resilience and the determination to preserve family and community in a society that repeatedly threatens both.

With such a large cast and broad historical scope, how did you decide which personal stories and political events to place at the center of the novel?

I chose the historical events that placed the greatest pressure on Nicola’s central relationships. Richard I’s accession and departure on crusade, the struggle between Prince John and the royal justiciar William Longchamp, the threat to Lincoln Castle and the persecution of England’s Jewish communities all affect her household directly. The politics matter because of what they force ordinary people to risk, endure or become.

The personal stories were chosen to explore different forms of authority and powerlessness. Nicola must learn that protecting people is not the same as controlling them. Gerard struggles with the fear that he has never truly been chosen by his wife. Their children and foster son are trying to establish identities beyond the roles their family or society has assigned to them. Bella and her family experience royal power from a far more precarious position, where laws that appear distant to the ruling class can determine whether a family is safe.

With a large cast, I tried to give each substantial strand a clear emotional connection to the novel’s central questions: What do we owe the people we love? When does loyalty become complicity? Can a damaged relationship survive without honesty? And what does it truly mean to protect someone?

The political and domestic plots gradually converge because that is how medieval life worked. Marriage, inheritance, religion, land and royal allegiance were inseparable. A decision made in a king’s chamber could reach into a family’s home, alter a marriage or place an entire community in danger.

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