Introduction

Especially when discussing the more controversial aspects of ASOIAF, George R.R Martin will often point to history as a legitimizing factor – saying in essence if not outright that “this is how it was back then” – which has led to quite a few arguments from medievalists who point out that Martin’s world is far from the historical norm when it comes to some important issues.

To a certain extent, however, part of the confusion between Martin and his medievalist critics is due to the fact that Martin is far more influenced by historical fiction than recent medievalist historiography. And as a Romantic author himself, Martin is particularly attracted to historical fiction that already leans to the outré, which gives us something of a Man Who Shot Liberty Valance situation.

Notably, in the forward to the 2013 Edition of Les Rois Maudits, GRRM writes quite candidly about the influence of Maurice Druon’s historical fiction in particular on ASOIAF:

“I have always regarded historical fiction and fantasy as sisters under the skin, two genres separated at birth. My own series draws on both traditions…A Game of Thrones and its sequels were also influenced by the works of great historical novelists like…Maurice Druon, the amazing French writer who gave us The Accursed Kings…” “The Accursed Kings has it all. Iron kings and strangled queens, battles and betrayals, lies and lust, deception, family rivalries, the curse of the Templars, babies switched at birth, she-wolves, sin, and swords, the doom of a great dynasty…and all of it (well, most of it) straight from the pages of history.” (The Iron King, p. X)

In this essay, I want to explore this influence in more detail, both for the sake of understanding how one text influences another, to see where and how GRRM drew upon Druon to create his world of ice and fire, but also as a potential solution to the problem discussed above, as an explanation for how the gap between Martin’s conception of the Middle Ages and modern medieval historiography emerged.

Remixing History

Before we get into that particular question, I want to explore in general how GRRM drew on Druon for inspiration for some of his characters. Take for example the title character – one might quibble at the term protagonist, given that he’s something of a passive figure for an important part of the plot – of the first book in Druon’s series, the “iron king” Phillip IV of France. I would argue that Martin borrowed liberally from Druon to create Tywin Lannister. Both men are associated with ruthlessness and an obsession with material wealth:

“At the beginning of the fourteenth century, Phillip IV, a king of legendary personal beauty, reigned over France as absolute master…He left no source of wealth untapped. He had in turn taxed the riches of the Church, despoiled the Jews, and made extortionate demands from the community of Lombard bankers. To meet he needs of the Treasury he debased the coinage. From day to day the gold piece weighed less and was worth more. Taxes were crushing: the police multiplied. Economic crisis led to ruin and famine which, in turn, caused uprisings which were bloodily put down. Rioting ended upon the forks of the gibbet. Everyone must accept the royal authority and obey it or be broken by it.” “…Phillip the Fair was concerned at the Templars’ independence, while their immense wealth excised his greed. He brought against them the greatest prosecution in recorded history, since there were nearly fifteen thousand accused. It last seven year, and during its course every possible infamy was committed.” (The Iron King, Prologue)

“Unleash Ser Gregor and send him before us with his reavers. Send forth Vargo Hoat and his freeriders as well, and Ser Amory Lorch. Each is to have three hundred horse. Tell them I want to see the riverlands afire from the Gods Eye to the Red Fork.” (Tyrion IX, AGOT) “I suppose you would have spared the boy and told Lord Frey you had no need of his allegiance? That would have driven the old fool right back into Stark’s arms and won you another year of war. Explain to me why it is more noble to kill ten thousand men in battle than a dozen at dinner.” (Tyrion VI, ASOS) “A fool more foolish than most had once jested that even Lord Tywin’s shit was flecked with gold. Some said the man was still alive, deep in the bowels of Casterly Rock.” (Tyrion VII, AGOT) “Will you forgive the throne’s debt to House Lannister?” “Don’t be absurd.” (Tyrion IV, ASOS)

(One can only imagine that if Casterly Rock had existed in 14th-century France, it would not have stayed long in the possession of anyone other than the House of Capet.) In addition to these qualities, both men share a similar philosophy of governance, combining an authoritarian perspective on authority with an emphasis on the duty of elites to work competently for the good of the state and its ruling house rather than their personal interests:

“This cruel and dispassionate prince was concerned with the ideal of the nation. Under his reign France was great and the French wretched.” (The Iron King, Prologue) “I don’t have to tell you…what we owe to our position and that we are not born to succumb to personal sorrows. We do not lead our own lives, but those of our kingdoms, and it is there alone that we can find content…if we can conform to our destiny.” (The Iron King, Part II, Chapter 7)

“Lord Tywin stared at him, unblinking. “Mummers and monkeys require applause. So did Aerys, for that matter. You did as you were commanded, and I am sure it was to the best of your ability. No one denies the part you played.” (Tyrion I, ASOS) “You are my daughter and will do as I command…you will marry and you will breed…we shall talk again after you have composed yourself. Remember your duty.” (Tyrion III, ASOS) “I have a duty—” “You do.” Lord Tywin rose as well. “A duty to House Lannister. You are the heir to Casterly Rock. That is where you should be.” (Jaime VII, ASOS)

In addition to their attitudes to public life, the two men also share the most intimate of details in their personal lives: both Phillip and Tywin lost their wives – who even share near-identical names! – in childbirth, and chose to remain widowers for the rest of their lives rather than remarry for political or economic advantage as one might expect from their practical mindsets:

“It was the year of the death of his wife Jeanne, who had brought Navarre to the kingdom, and to him the only love of his life. He had never wanted any other woman; and since she had died nine years ago he had looked at none another and would never do so.” (The Iron King, Part III, Chapter 3)

“His lordship suffered great personal loss as well, for his beloved wife, Lady Joanna, died in 273 AC whilst giving birth to a hideously deformed child. With her death, Grand Maester Pycelle observes, the joy went out of Tywin Lannister, yet still he persisted in his duty.” (WOIAF) “My lord father had no use for whores, she thought. After our mother died he never touched a woman.” (Cersei I, AFFC)

One of the most telling details tying the two men together, in my opinion, is that Phillip the Fair and Tywin Lannister are described as having a particularly imposing stare, which in both Druon and Martin’s narratives provides a straightforward visual explanation for how these strong-willed men are able to impose their wills on others:

“…Phillip the Fair was standing behind them, gazing at them with his unwinking, icy stare.” “No doubt it was because of the way he looked at you out of those over-large unwinking eyes with their strange indefinite colour which lay somewhere between grey and pale blue, like the ice on ponds on winter mornings, eyes that remained in the memory for hours after you had looked into them.” (The Iron King, Chapter 4) “King Phillip looked at her with that icy glance with which he regarded every human creature, even his own child.” (The Iron King, Part II, Chapter 7)

“That half smile made Lord Tywin seem less fearful, somehow. That, and the fact that his eyes were closed. Her father’s eyes had always been unsettling; pale green, almost luminous, flecked with gold. His eyes could see inside you, could see how weak and worthless and ugly you were down deep. When he looked at you, you knew.” “Unbidden, a memory came to her, of the feast King Aerys had thrown when Cersei first came to court, a girl as green as summer grass. Old Merryweather had been nattering about raising the duty on wine when Lord Rykker said, “If we need gold, His Grace should sit Lord Tywin on his chamber pot.” Aerys and his lickspittles laughed loudly, whilst Father stared at Rykker over his wine cup. Long after the merriment had died that gaze had lingered. Rykker turned away, turned back, met Father’s eyes, then ignored them, drank a tankard of ale, and stalked off red-faced, defeated by a pair of unflinching eyes.” (Cersei II, AFFC)

However, as I’ve discussed before, GRRM rarely goes one-for-one in his historical parallels, preferring instead to add his own spin on the character – Phillips’ flowing locks become Tywin’s characteristic shaven head, since Phillip’s blue eyes are associated with House Baratheon instead of House Lannister, Tywin’s imposing stare is green rather than blue – and of course, to remix various historical characters into one person.[1] In addition to the aspects of Phillip the Fair that I’ve already discussed, Tywin also shares much in common with Richard Neville the Kingmaker (an “overmighty vassal” known as the wealthiest lord in the kingdom who helped to overthrow the previous dynasty on behalf of another house and then turned against them), John of Gaunt, (another “overmighty vassal” who combined great wealth, longstanding participation in royal government, and a bad reputation among the commonfolk), and Rodrigo Borgia (in wealth, ambition, and frustration with his children’s interference with his attempts to empire-build).

Another good example of GRRM drawing on Druon for one of his major characters is how much Cersei Lannister resembles Queen Isabella of France (and not just because they share an equivalent father-figure). To begin with, both women are described as especially beautiful women trapped in loveless royal marriages:

“Queen Isabella, wife of Edward II, gazed vaguely, unseeingly, at the glow in the hearth. She was twenty-two years old, her complexion clear, pretty and without blemish.” “…the loveless Queen sighed.” “…my position is not a very enviable one…their lot seems to me far pleasanter than my own.” “If her husband does not love her, a queen is the most miserable of the subjects of a kingdom. It is enough that she should have assured the succession; after that her life is of no account. What baron’s wife, what merchant’s or serf’s would tolerate what I have to bear…because I am Queen? The least washerwoman in the kingdom has greater rights than I: she can come and ask my protection.” (The Iron King, Chapter 1)

“Cersei … I have Jon Arryn to thank for her. I had no wish to marry after Lyanna was taken from me, but Jon said the realm needed an heir. Cersei Lannister would be a good match, he told me, she would bind Lord Tywin to me should Viserys Targaryen ever try to win back his father’s throne,” The king shook his head. “I loved that old man, I swear it, but now I think he was a bigger fool than Moon Boy. Oh, Cersei is lovely to look at, truly, but cold … the way she guards her cunt, you’d think she had all the gold of Casterly Rock between her legs.” (AGOT, Eddard VII) Ned touched her cheek gently. “Has he done this before?”

“Once or twice.” She shied away from his hand. “Never on the face before. Jaime would have killed him, even if it meant his own life.” Cersei looked at him defiantly. “My brother is worth a hundred of your friend.” (AGOT, Edddard XII)

Following the Anna Karenina principal, their marriages are unhappy for different reasons – Isabella is unhappy because her husband keeps stealing her personal property to give as presents to his boyfriends, whereas Cersei’s marriage has a much more complicated dynamic of abuse, alcoholism, and mutual adultery. What does tie them together is the fact that, rather than suffering their situation meekly, both women react by seeking revenge against their husbands:

“I thought,” Isabella went on, “that I had known the worst with Sir Piers Gaveston. That insolent, boastful Béarnsais ruled my husband so successfully that he ruled the country too. Edward gave him all the jewels in my marriage casket…a year or so ago the barons and I succeeded in bringing Gaveston down; his head was cut off, and now his body lies rotting in the ground at Oxford,” the young Queen said with satisfaction. (The Iron King, Chapter 1)

“He did that himself. All we did was help. When Lancel saw that Robert was going after boar, he gave him strongwine. His favorite sour red, but fortified, three times as potent as he was used to. The great stinking fool loved it. He could have stopped swilling it down anytime he cared to, but no, he drained one skin and told Lancel to fetch another. The boar did the rest. You should have been at the feast, Tyrion. There has never been a boar so delicious. They cooked it with mushrooms and apples, and it tasted like triumph.” (ACOK, Tyrion I) “The rule was hers; Cersei did not mean to give it up until Tommen came of age. I waited, so can he. I waited half my life. She had played the dutiful daughter, the blushing bride, the pliant wife. She had suffered Robert’s drunken groping, Jaime’s jealousy, Renly’s mockery, Varys with his titters, Stannis endlessly grinding his teeth. She had contended with Jon Arryn, Ned Stark, and her vile, treacherous, murderous dwarf brother, all the while promising herself that one day it would be her turn. If Margaery Tyrell thinks to cheat me of my hour in the sun, she had bloody well think again.” (AFFC, Cersei V)

Just as Cersei arranges the assassination of King Robert towards the end of AGOT, in Book 5 of The Accursed Kings, Isabella will join forces with the rebel Baron Roger Mortimer (who she will take as a lover, which provides yet another similarity to Cersei) to overthrow (and eventually murder) her husband Edward, as well as executing his lover Hugh Despenser. As one might imagine, queens overthrowing and assassinating their royal husbands was not a common occupation of medieval queens – a habit of Martin’s that I’ll discuss in more detail in the next section.

Following the earlier pattern of Phillip and Tywin sharing both political and personal characteristics, Cersei and Isabella also share something quite intimate, namely an unusually close maternal bond with their oldest son, which sees them encouraging their son to emulate their powerful father in being a ruthless and grasping ruler:

“…Well, Messire my son, so you have said: “Want”,’ said Isabella, leaning down to stroke his cheek. “I’m pleased that it should have been the first word you uttered: it’s the speech of a king.” “…and why did he say it?” the Queen went on. “Because I refused him a piece of the cake we were eating,” Lady Mortimer replied. Isabella gave a brief smile, quickly. “Since he has begun to talk…I insist that he not be encouraged to lisp nonsense, as children so after are. I’m not concerned that he should be able to say “Papa” and “Mamma”. I should prefer him to know the words “King” and “Queen.” (The Iron King, Chapter 1)

“Why would he? Robert ignored him. He would have beat him if I’d allowed it. That brute you made me marry once hit the boy so hard he knocked out two of his baby teeth, over some mischief with a cat. I told him I’d kill him in his sleep if he ever did it again, and he never did, but sometimes he would say things…” (ASOS, Tyrion VI) Tommen did as he was bid. His meekness troubled her. A king had to be strong. Joffrey would have argued. He was never easy to cow. “Don’t slump so,” she told Tommen. “Sit like a king. Put your shoulders back and straighten your crown. Do you want it to tumble off your head in front of all your lords?” (AFFC, Cersei II)

When it comes to their children, however, Joffrey resembles much more Prince Edward of the House of Lancaster, who was also known for his sadism, charges of bastardy, and untimely death, than the future King Edward III, the victor of Crécy and Poitiers and the ancestor of both the Houses of York and Lancaster. Here is where we can see one of the advantages of GRRM’s penchant for historical remixing – if Isabella’s son doesn’t fit the mold he intends for Cersei’s son, he can always look to some of Cersei’s other historical parallels for inspiration, and Marguerite d’Anjou thus supplies the necessary nasty prince.

Sexuality and Age of Marriage

Now that we see how Martin borrows from history and historical fiction, let’s get into some of these contentious issue in the fandom. Take for example, the issue of the age of Martin’s brides: throughout ASOIAF, Martin has his characters marry at extremely young ages: Sansa is married at twelve, Margaery at fourteen, Catelyn at, Lysa, Cersei, etc. etc. However, when people bring up this issue (or indeed, similar issues with regard to gender), GRRM points to these things as normal:

“The books reflect a patriarchal society based on the Middle Ages. The Middle Ages were not a time of sexual egalitarianism. It was very classist, dividing people into three classes. And they had strong ideas about the roles of women. One of the charges against Joan of Arc that got her burned at the stake was that she wore men’s clothing—that was not a small thing. There were, of course, some strong and competent women. It still doesn’t change the nature of the society.” (source)

Here’s where the distinction between history and historical fiction becomes important. In The Iron King, the main female characters are Queen Isabella of England, Marguerite of Burgundy, and hers sister Jeanne and Blanche of Burgundy: it happens to be the case that Isabella was married at age 12, Marguerite at age 15, Jeanne at age 15, and Blanche at age 12. At the same time, it’s also the case that this was not the statistical norm for women (even noblewomen) across the Middle Ages.

As a writer of historical fiction, Druon is more interested in the shocking, the extreme, and the novel than the common and the quotidian (more on this later). This is perfectly fine as far it goes – Druon is after all writing a novel rather than a textbook – except that Druon has something of a tendency to present the unusual as the norm. Take, for example, the way that Druon describes coming to the throne at an early age:

“Robert of Artois did not appear surprised to hear these cruel words uttered by a beautiful woman. It must be admitted that such things were the common coin of the period. Kingdoms were often handed over to adolescents, whose absolute power fascinated them as might a game. Hardly grown out of the age in which it is fun to tear the wings from flies, they might now amuse themselves by tearing the heads from men. Too young to fear or even imagine death, they would not hesitate to distribute it around them. Isabella had ascended the throne at sixteen; she had come a long way in six years.” (The Iron King, Chapter 1)

This is where I feel the different standards which readers and critics rightly have for writers of fiction and non-fiction becomes something of a problem. Precisely because of the richness and immediacy of narrative style, historical fiction has such a powerful impact that it can overpower academic monographs and articles alike in the popular historical imagination. To this end, on this point, I do think that Druon comes close to a kind of historical fiction malpractice on this point when he defines for the reader “how things were back then.”

I would argue that Druon’s writing had something of an outsized influence on George R.R Martin, because as a Romantic writer GRRM was already predisposed to be interested in the shocking, the novel and the extreme:

“The best fantasy is written in the language of dreams. It is alive as dreams are alive, more real than real… for a moment at least… that long magic moment before we wake. Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smoke-stacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest airlines. Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true? We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the song the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever, somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La. They can keep their heaven. When I die, I’d sooner go to Middle Earth.” (The Faces of Fantasy)

This philosophy can be seen throughout ASOIAF – it’s why the Wall is 700 feet tall even though that makes the kind of back-and-forth archery of the Battle of Castle Black impossible, it’s why Casterly Rock is the size of San Francisco, or why the Eyrie is so implausibly vertiginous, it’s why some of the major families of Westeros can trace their lineages back across eight thousand years of history, and his pseudo-England is the size of South America. So of course when a writer with these kinds of tendencies is deeply influenced by this kind of historical fiction, the natural result is that Martin takes what he thinks as the historical norm and then turns it up to 11 the same way he does with everything else, and the result is everyone in Westeros getting married in their early teens if not before.

Moreover, this phenomena is not limited to the age of marriage, but influences all kinds of aspects of Martin’s narrative. Consider the Tour de Nesle Affair, which provides the backbone of The Iron King and sets off the dynastic crisis that the rest of The Accursed Kings will revolve around:

“Well, Madame…to complete the admirable lessons you have given your son, you will soon be able to inform him that Marguerite of Burgundy, Queen of Navarre, Future Queen of France, granddaughter of Saint Louis, is qualifying to be called by her people Marguerite the Whore…it’s true for your two sisters-in-law as well.” “…the true, pure, chaste Marguerite has had an apartment furnished in the old tower of the Hôtel-de-Nesle, in order, so she says, to retire there to say her prayers. Curiously enough, however, she prays there on precisely those nights your brother Louis is away. The lights shine there pretty late. Her cousin Blanche, sometimes her cousin Jeanne, joins her there…” (The Iron King, Chapter 1)

The Tour de Nesle Affair was a truly unusual incident in the history of medieval France: three princesses and future queens were caught in adultery due to an elaborate scheme by their sister-in-law, imprisoned either at home or in castle dungeons or nunneries, with two of them dying in captivity (one of whom seemingly was murdered to allow her royal husband to remarry) and the third becoming Queen Consort of France, and the succession of the House of Capet being thrown into such jeopardy that it led to France adopting Salic Law and (as Druon argues) ultimately the Hundred Years War.

One can see, therefore, why this incident would appeal to Maurice Druon as a suitably dramatic set-piece for his narrative, and why it would appeal to GRRM as well, in the way that it combines politics and sexuality. On the other hand, the Tour de Nesle Affair is famous because it was not the norm. Adulterous queens were a significant part of chivalric romances, but in real life they tended to be quite rare (or very discreet) because of the extreme consequences of being caught and the difficulties of ending a fatally-compromised royal marriage. (Naturally, adulterous kings were both more common because their infidelities were widely tolerated.)

While the clearest impact of the Tour de Nesle is as an inspiration[2] for Cersei and Margaery being put on trial by the Faith for royal adultery (and in Cersei’s case, adultery, incest, murder, and treason as well), especially Cersei’s lead role in developing an elaborate scheme to trap Margaery in an unwinnable trial, I would argue that we can see its influence throughout the series. Whether we’re talking about the unnamed wife of Morden II Durrandon, the rumors of infidelity that swirled around Queen Rhaenys Targaryen, the supposed infidelities of Queen Alys Harroway, Rhaenrya’s affair with Harwin Strong (to say nothing of the allegations of Mushroom),the scandals around Daena the Defiant and Princess Elaena, Aegon IV’s accusations of Queen Naerys’ infidelities, the supposed affair between Aerys II and Joanna Lannister, Cersei Lannister’s actual affair with her brother, Lysa Arryn’s affair with Petyr Baelish, the supposed affair between Selyse Baratheon and Moonboy…it’s a omnipresent theme.

Conclusion:

Of course, the most controversial aspect of GRRM’s “realism” and its relation to medieval historiography has to do with sexual violence, which is far too serious an issue to try to boil down to Romanticism, turning knobs up to 11, or the work of Maurice Druon, Especially since, to the best of my recollection, sexual violence doesn’t really come up in The Accursed Kings. Queens are arrested, imprisoned, and murdered aplenty, but that is as far as it goes.

On the other hand, to the extent that Martin associates sexual violence with the Middle Ages, I don’t think we can let historical fiction entirely off the hook either – because I think there is something telling about the way that, in interviews Martin associates sexual violence with the Wars of the Roses and the Hundred Years War (which often did involve violence inflicted against civilians and the widespread breakdown of law and order), both subjects that I’m sure he read about in other writers.

[1] For example Robb Stark is something of a blend of Edward IV of York (an undefeated general who became king at an early age who married unwisely), Earl William Douglas (the victim of the “Black Dinner” which inspired the Red Wedding), and Charles XII of Sweden (another youthful king who was undefeated when he led his armies in the field, but who ultimately lost both his life and his empire.

[2] The other inspiration is the trial of Anne Boleyn for adultery and treason: the Blue Bard is a stand-in for Mark Smeaton, a court musician in Anne Boleyn’s entourage who confessed to being her lover and named the other men who were later arrested, tried, and convicted as the queen’s lovers, a confession widely believed to have been extracted under torture. Similarly, Cersei’s suggestion to Taena that Loras might be one of Margaery’s lovers points to Anne’s brother, George Boleyn, who was one of the men arrested and convicted of being the queen’s lover.