But beyond recounting the rise of Norman supremacy, what was the Bayeux Tapestry really for? Was it only an extraordinary work of propaganda, designed as a display of righteous power? Or was it intended to have a more specific and purposeful role?

The answer to that latter question is: yes, according to historian Professor Benjamin Pohl of the University of Bristol. He argues that the Bayeux Tapestry was created to be a moral aid viewed by medieval monks while they silently ate their meals in a communal refectory.

What was the Bayeux Tapestry for?

Professor Pohl explains his argument in a new article 'Chewing over the Norman Conquest: the Bayeux Tapestry as monastic mealtime reading', in which he makes the case that the embroidery was designed specifically to be hung in the monastic dining hall of St Augustine’s Abbey, Canterbury, where it would have accompanied spoken readings and prompted moral reflection.

Following the rule of St Benedict, which governed monastic life across much of medieval Europe, medieval monks were expected to maintain complete silence while eating, aside from the voice of the reader delivering the day’s text. These readings delivered moral instruction to the diners, in a setting where any visual imagery would have reinforced spoken words and offered a focus for contemplation.

A tapestry made for monks

The Bayeux Tapestry famously depicts the events leading up to the Norman Conquest of England in 1066 through a series of cartoon-style embroidered scenes, accompanied by short Latin captions. Most scholars agree that the embroidery was probably made in, or near, Canterbury in the 11th century. That conclusion rests on similarities in its style and content with illuminated manuscripts that are known to have been held in Canterbury’s monastic libraries at the time.

• Read more | What one Oxford professor found when he studied the rudest bits of the Bayeux Tapestry

But Pohl contends that the Tapestry was not only made in Canterbury, but for Canterbury. He argues that it could have been designed to be hung around the walls of the monastic refectory of St Augustine’s Abbey on particular feast days, where it would have illustrated the moral themes of the day’s reading for the monks. He theorises that the embroidery would have been exhibited at head-height around their dining room, and that therefore it would have been “perfectly discernible from the seated position assumed by the monks and their guests during mealtimes in the refectory”.

This followed “the long, pan-European tradition of using illustrated narratives in the form of wall paintings and – of particular interest here – textile hangings in monastic refectories”.

Triumph and propaganda, or a moral warning?

At first glance, the Bayeux Tapestry does not appear to be an ideal vehicle for moral instruction.

On a basic level, it is a historical narrative that shows the events leading up to the Norman Conquest. In that, it appears to follow a broadly pro-Norman view of events, where the English King Harold makes, and then breaks, an oath to support Duke William of Normandy’s claim to the crown of England. This seeming act of perjury provides the context for William to muster his invasion fleet and then defeat Harold on the field of Hastings. Read in this way, the embroidery can appear to be a triumphalist account of conquest, leading some scholars to suggest that it was created for display in the great hall of a Norman castle, where warriors might reflect on their success.

1066: The battle for England

Member exclusive | The year 1066 is the most famous in English history, but there's a lot more to the story than one bloody battle at Hastings. In this four-part series, medievalist Marc Morris talks David Musgrove through the full story of the Norman Conquest.

Watch all episodes now

However, other historians have suggested that the embroidery is more complex than this. Rather than being a celebration of conquest, it might alternatively offer a commentary on the worldly sins – namely the overambition and moral failure – of the people involved in the story. The borders of the embroidery contain scenes that draw on Aesop’s Fables, a body of stories widely used in medieval education to convey ethical lessons. Such imagery lends weight to the idea that the embroidery carried an underlying moralising message, one that would have been particularly suited to a monastic setting, where the rejection of worldly concerns was central to religious life.

Professor Pohl contends that the ideal place for such moral messages to be delivered would have been in silent contemplation over dinner. Though the fabric of the refectory of St Augustine’s does not survive, documentary and archaeological evidence suggests that it was a substantial building, large enough to accommodate the full length of the Tapestry around its walls.

• Read more | How Tostig Godwinson’s brotherly betrayal hastened the fall of the Anglo-Saxons

With the tapestry as an illustrative background, the mealtime reader would have talked about a moral theme while the monks ate and looked at the image in question. They would have been aided in this by the very basic Latin captions in the Tapestry, which would have been suitable for an audience of monks who did not all have deep Latin knowledge. Pohl points out that the way that the embroidery is split up into individual narrative scenes would also have allowed for a series of discrete, but interconnected, moral lessons to be taught to the munching monks.

“Each episode is a tale of both good and evil, victory and defeat, damnation and redemption”, he says.

Was the Bayeux Tapestry forgotten?

He agrees with the view that Abbot Scolland, who led St Augustine’s Abbey in the years following the Conquest, was a driving force in the creation of the Tapestry (perhaps working with, or for, Bishop Odo of Bayeux, the half-brother of William the Conqueror). He notes that Scolland also instigated the post-conquest building programme that included the construction of a new refectory building for the monks.

• Read more | Has history’s most famous comet been misnamed for centuries? “The answer is clear,” say historians

Pohl suggests that Scolland commissioned the embroidery specifically for display in the new refectory that he designed. However, Scolland died in 1087, long before it was eventually constructed. Pohl further argues that the Tapestry may never have actually been shown as planned because by the time the dining hall was finally built, Scolland had been dead for half a century and the Tapestry may never have been displayed as intended.

If the Bayeux Tapestry was made, and then stored and never displayed, this could help to explain its remarkably good state of preservation.

It also raises the question of how the Tapestry eventually came to be in Bayeux. By the end of the 15th century, it appears in the inventory of Bayeux Cathedral. Pohl suggests that it may have remained in storage in Canterbury, and stayed broadly forgotten, until the 1420s, when it could have been offered as collateral to settle a monastic debt. From there, it may have passed into the hands of the Duke of Burgundy before ultimately making its way to Bayeux, where it survives today.

Charles West is the author of Europe in the Eleventh Century: Beyond Revolution and Reform (Oxford University Press, 2025).

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She broke the mould of queen consorts, wielding considerable power on behalf of – and sometimes in direct opposition to – her husband, and establishing an Anglo-Norman dynasty that would endure for centuries.

But until the BBC 1066 drama King and Conqueror few people had heard of her, thanks to the male-dominated sources for the period.

The Bayeux Tapestry, which depicts the Norman Conquest of England, includes over 600 different men and just three women – Edith of Wessex (who is Edward the Confessor’s wife, and also Harold Godwinson’s sister); an unnamed woman fleeing a building burned by William’s troops (who may or may not be Edith the Fair, Harold’s wife); and a woman the embroidery identifies as Aelfgyva, of whom we know less.

What’s certain is that none of them are Matilda.

Who was the real Matilda of Flanders?

Piecing together the fragments of Matilda’s life before 1066 reveals a woman who was destined to rule – and given her pedigree, she was viewed as a great prize in the international marriage market.

Although the records are scarce for Matilda’s years, she was probably born in around 1031. She was the daughter of the future Count Baldwin V of Flanders (then one of the most important principalities in Europe) and Adela, the daughter of King Robert II ‘the Pious’ of France.

Matilda had two brothers, Baldwin and Robert. Described by a contemporary chronicler as ‘highly born’, she could trace her descent from the kings of France, the emperors of Germany and even the Anglo-Saxon dynasty. The latter connection would be of great value to her future husband, William of Normandy.

• Read more | Did Edward the Confessor really murder his mother?

There is no surviving likeness of Matilda, but a later chronicler described her as “one of the most beautiful women that could be seen”. Her skeleton was examined in 1961 and recorded as being four feet two inches tall. This was likely a miscalculation, but she was known to be of small stature, as was her eldest son Robert ‘Curthose’ (meaning ‘short trousers’).

Matilda was better educated than most noble women at the time. She was clever, politically astute, strong-willed and fiercely ambitious – qualities that would spark criticism and unease among her contemporaries, and that would shape the negative portrayals of her in the chronicles of the time.

Among Matilda’s first suitors was a Saxon lord named Brihtric Mau (or Meaw), who had been sent to Flanders as an ambassador by King Edward the Confessor.

Brihtric was one of the richest and most powerful nobles in England, and his vast lands spanned six western counties from Cornwall to Worcestershire. As well as being a man of wealth and influence, Brihtric was a tall and “stalwart”, with light blonde hair; one chronicler claims that Matilda fell in love with him at first sight. Without pausing to seek her father’s approval, she sent a messenger to England to offer herself in marriage.

In an age when daughters were expected to meekly accept the fate that was decided for them by their parents, this was an astonishingly audacious act and gives an early glimpse of her forthright nature. But to her dismay and outrage, Brihtric rejected her proposal.

Matilda never forgot the slight. Years later, when Queen of England, she had his lands confiscated and threw him into prison, where he died in mysterious circumstances. It was widely rumoured that Matilda had ordered his murder.

Matilda of Flanders and William of Normandy

In the late 1040s, Matilda received a proposal of marriage from William, Duke of Normandy. He had been the duke since the age of about seven or eight, and was widely known as ‘William the Bastard’, thanks to his illegitimacy. Although he grew into a fierce warrior who saw off Normandy’s enemies and extended its territories, he never shook off the stain of bastardy. He therefore set his sights on a wife with more than enough royal blood for the both of them.

Matilda’s father greeted Duke William’s proposal with enthusiasm – given his duchy bordered Flanders, it would be a strategically advantageous alliance. But when his daughter heard of it, she declared that she would not lower herself to marry a ‘base-born duke’.

Furious, William rode over to Flanders and confronted his would-be bride, dragging her to the ground, rolling her in the mud and almost beating her to death “with his fists, heels, and spurs”.

• Read more | How historically accurate is King and Conqueror?

According to contemporary chronicles, just a few days later Matilda announced that she would marry none but William, since “he must be a man of great courage and high daring” to have ventured to “come and beat me in my own father’s palace”.

Whatever the truth of this outlandish tale, the couple were betrothed shortly afterwards.

But there was another obstacle: Pope Leo IX prohibited the marriage on the grounds that William and Matilda were distantly related. Yet William and Matilda were not to be dissuaded; they defied the ban and married in secret in around 1050.

Matilda as Duchess of Normandy

Despite the inauspicious beginning, the marriage proved a resounding success. As the first Duchess of Normandy for thirty years, Matilda was immensely popular, both with the people of the duchy and her husband.

One chronicler noted that her “fruitfulness in children excited in his [William’s] mind the tenderest regard for her”. She gave birth to at least ten children during their marriage, including four sons to continue the Norman dynasty – among them future Norman Duke Robert Curthose, and the future English kings William Rufus and Henry I. She played an active role in her children’s lives, superintending their education and ensuring that her daughters were imbued with as much learning as her sons.

The growing status of this power couple on the European stage was acknowledged when, in 1059, Pope Benedict overturned the ban on their marriage. Matilda and her husband each commissioned a spectacular new abbey in Caen as a mark of their gratitude. The magnificent ‘Abbaye-aux-Dames’ and ‘Abbaye-aux-Hommes’ still tower over the city today.

What part did Matilda of Flanders play in the Norman Conquest?

Matilda not only enhanced William’s standing in Normandy, but also bolstered his claim to the crown of England.

The Bayeux Tapestry shows the moment when the childless Edward the Confessor is said to have nominated William as his heir. In either 1064 or 1065, fate played into William’s hands when Harold Godwinson was shipwrecked off the coast of France. He was soon escorted to the ducal court as an honoured guest, but it was clear that William had no intention of letting his rival return to England until he had recognised his own claim to King Edward’s throne. Matilda went on a charm offensive with their Saxon guest, who (again, according to the Bayeux Tapestry) swore an oath to uphold William’s claim.

However, when Edward the Confessor died in January 1066, Harold forgot any promise he might have made and seized the throne. William at once began planning to invade and Matilda was behind him every step of the way. More alive to the importance of public image than her husband, she sought the Pope’s sanction for the invasion and gave her daughter Cecilia to the Abbaye-aux-Dames as a token of thanks. Matilda also commissioned a magnificent flagship, The Mora, for her husband to sail across the Channel in September that year.

• Read more | How Tostig Godwinson’s brotherly betrayal hastened the fall of the Anglo-Saxons

It was Matilda who managed affairs in Normandy once her husband set sail. She was in the Benedictine priory of Nôtre Dame du Pré, a small chapel that she had founded in 1060 on the banks of the river Seine near Rouen, praying for William’s success, when a messenger arrived with the news that he had vanquished Harold at the battle of Hastings.

She joyfully proclaimed that the priory should henceforth be known as ‘Nôtre Dame de Bonnes Nouvelles’ (‘Our Lady of Good News’). Matilda had good reason to rejoice for she was now Queen of England.

Matilda and her father, Baldwin of Flanders

Matilda’s father Baldwin V, Count of Flanders, was just as wily as he is in King and Conqueror.

1066: The battle for England

Member exclusive | The year 1066 is the most famous in English history, but there's a lot more to the story than one bloody battle at Hastings. In this four-part series, medievalist Marc Morris talks David Musgrove through the full story of the Norman Conquest.

Watch all episodes now

It was only after William offered him a substantial bribe that he agreed to provide troops for the invasion of England. Admittedly, Baldwin was in an awkward position, for although William was his son-in-law, his half-sister Judith was married to Harold Godwinson’s brother, the exiled Tostig, who had allied himself with the Norwegian king, Harald Hardrada.

Baldwin was also anxious not to antagonise his overlord, the French King. In the end, he chose to hedge his bets. As well as providing limited support to William, Baldwin also supplied his brother-in-law Tostig with ships and men to attack England.

What happened to Matilda after 1066?

Decisive though it was, 1066 was just the beginning of a long and bitterly-contested battle for Norman supremacy in England. It was a battle that Matilda fought with diplomacy and PR, rather than the sword wielded by her husband.

She eventually won the respect of the resentful Saxons, who had first called her ‘the strange woman’ but by the time of her death in 1083 praised her as ‘Matilda, wealthy and powerful.’

Tracy Borman is the author of Matilda: Wife of the Conqueror, First Queen of England (Vintage, 2012). Listen to her speaking about Matilda on the Historic Royal Palaces podcast.

King and Conqueror is streaming on BBC iPlayer now. For more content like this, check out the best historical movies of all time as chosen by historians and ranked by you, history TV shows and films to stream tonight, and our picks of the new history TV and radio released in the UK this week.

The eight-part drama begins with the coronation of King Edward the Confessor and ends exactly where you think it would, with King Harold Godwinson, the last crowned Anglo-Saxon king of England, dead on the field at Hastings with an arrow in his eye.

That’s a span of more than 20 years – and as such there is a lot of editing of the historical record going on.

Some important characters are missing, and not just Edgar Aetheling, the claimant many overlook in the 1066 story. Events happen out of order. And a lot of real historical figures die in times, places and ways that raise eyebrows.

But one particular plot point is so shocking, so unexpected, that we put it to medieval historian Tom Licence to get his reaction. And it’s such a massive spoiler that we’ve hidden it after these two images of the show's leads, James Norton as Harold and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau as William the Conqueror.

Edward the Confessor is portrayed in King and Conqueror as a weak and ineffectual man, touched even – he believes he hears the voice of God whispering to him.

If there is anyone whispering in his ear, it is his mother, Emma of Normandy.

The real Emma was queen consort to both Aethelred the Unready and Cnut the Great, the only woman to have married two English kings. Two of her sons were also kings, first Harthacnut, and then Edward the Confessor. For her whole life, she had been an able political player.

In King and Conqueror, she is vicious and manipulative, a woman who dominates Edward and goads him for his failures. She is the power behind his throne.

When Edward finally snaps, he does so totally and utterly. In a moment of red mist worthy of Game of Thrones, he beats his mother to death with his crown.

Did Edward the Confessor beat his mother Emma of Normandy to death with this crown?

“Beating someone to death with his own crown? I mean, no, I don't think Edward did that, not to his mother.”

That’s the view of historian Tom Licence, who was speaking to us while recording an episode of the HistoryExtra podcast on Edward’s life.

“We can't be absolutely certain, but that would be totally out of character and wouldn't fit with my understanding of their relationship.”

What was Edward’s character? Elsewhere on HistoryExtra, Licence writes that though Edward had a holier-than-thou reputation (he is known as ‘the Confessor’ for a reason) he was a king who was “strong, glorious, feared by his enemies”.

“Edward's way of punishing people was to take away their assets or to put them into exile. He hit them in the pocket, not over the head,” says Licence.

“He was not that sort of ruler. I could imagine Cnut the Great doing that. I could definitely imagine Aethelred the Unready doing that.”

Aethelred the Unready was Edward’s father, and the man behind the St Brice’s Day Massacre of 1002 – the attempted slaughter of all the Danes living within his lands as revenge against the Viking incursions. Cnut was the king who claimed the throne through during the Danish Conquest of 1016, which is why Edward spent his youth in exile in Normandy.

What happened to the real Emma of Normandy?

There’s no record that the real Emma of Normandy was murdered, by her son or otherwise – but she was removed from the royal court.

“Emma had all the cards before Edward becomes king, but there's a very clear turnaround, says Licence.

“As soon as Edward gets on the throne, Emma's power is broken. He takes away her wealth, he deposes her favourite bishop, her lands are removed from her and she's sent, pretty much into retirement to Winchester, where she lives out her days.”

Watch: The real history behind King and Conqueror

Emma died in Winchester of an unknown cause in 1052, almost a decade after she was sent there. “There's a good 10 years where she's doing nothing and has no influence whatsoever,” Licence points out.

But there may have been another woman guiding Edward after Emma was removed from court – his wife, who happened to be Harold Godwinson’s sister.

“The way I see it, Edith of Wessex, takes over [Emma of Normandy’s mantle]. Emma ceases to appear on the charters. Edith appears, and she is the one who's there at his councils and helping him make his decisions.”

It was Edith who commissioned a tract called The Life of King Edward, which is one of the prevailing sources for our view of Edward as a pious ruler.

“Edith, whom Edward marries in 1045, is the person who's orchestrating his theatricality,” says Licence.

“She embroiders his garments, she commissions goldsmiths to make all the jewels that he wears, and she ensures that when he walks on stage in front of the public … he looks like a saint, like some patriarch from the Old Testament, like someone almost divine.”

1066: The battle for England

Member exclusive | The year 1066 is the most famous in English history, but there's a lot more to the story than one bloody battle at Hastings. In this four-part series, medievalist Marc Morris talks David Musgrove through the full story of the Norman Conquest.

Watch all episodes now

What was Edward’s relationship like with his mother?

While the real Emma and Edward may not have been at each other’s throats, historian Tom Licence characterises their relationship as being distant and predominantly political.

“Today we might think of this in terms of parental neglect or a mother not looking after her son as she should,” says Licence.

“And what Edward felt was that all through those years in exile she hadn't done enough to support him, to promote his claim to the throne, to help him come back to England.”

What Emma had done instead was marry Cnut – and then had children with him.

“He had become king in Edward's place, so you could just imagine how Edward would be feeling, how his mother had maybe betrayed him and allowed her new son to replace him – almost like a cuckoo in the nest.”

Nonetheless, Licence doesn’t think that sense of betrayal would manifest into physical violence. He does, however, have a theory as to why Edward was depicted this way in King and Conqueror.

“A previous biographer who didn't like Edward very much wrote that he was the sort of man who probably beat his wife. I don't think that's justified, or that we have any warrant for that.

“And beating to death Emma, with a crown? No, no. Just, no.”

King and Conqueror is streaming on BBC iPlayer now. For more content like this, check out the best historical movies of all time as chosen by historians and ranked by you, history TV shows and films to stream tonight, and our picks of the new history TV and radio released in the UK this week

Tom Licence was speaking to Emily Briffett on the HistoryExtra podcast. Listen to the full conversation.

Looking at this unremarkable redbrick building, it’s hard to imagine that on the same site, an important place of worship once towered over this historic metropolis: the medieval St Donatian’s Church.

And a new detail that has emerged from the archives of the church leads us to consider something even harder to imagine: could the crown of England’s last Anglo-Saxon king, Harold Godwinson, have been sold to pay for its upkeep?

A church of sanctuary and sacrilege

St Donatian’s church – named after the fourth-century French saint, Donatian – was established around AD 950 by Arnulf I, the count of Flanders. Prior to its destruction during the French Revolutionary Wars, the church was a college of canons, built to hold relics of St Donatian brought to Bruges from Torhout (a municipality in West Flanders) in around 870.

Today, the church is best-known for being the scene of the brutal murder of another Flemish count, Charles the Good, who was attacked by a group of knights in 1127. Lesser-known, however, is the fact that the place of worship also played a significant role in the exile of Lady Gunhild – sister of the last Anglo-Saxon king, Harold Godwinson.

• Read more | Shakespeare didn't do the Norman Conquest, but the Bayeux Tapestry did, so where does that leave the BBC's King and Conqueror?

The church became Gunhild’s final resting place, and recent research by Elisabeth van Houts, emeritus honorary professor of medieval history at the University of Cambridge, suggests that it may have greatly benefited from the spoils of the Norman Conquest.

A family in exile

It is one of the most famous tales in English history, detailed on the Bayeux Tapestry and depicted in BBC drama King and Conqueror: William of Normandy’s defeat of Harold Godwinson at the battle of Hastings. It fundamentally changed England’s political and social landscape, bringing with it a new language, new power structures and the eventual creation of the first national survey, Domesday Book.

Harold was killed in the fighting, as was his brother, Tostig Godwinson, at the preceding battle of Stamford Bridge. But what happened to Harold’s surviving family after the Norman Conquest?

The dramatic events of 1066 didn’t just end the Anglo-Saxon era and Harold’s life – they scattered his relatives across Europe. The king’s sister, Gunhild, and their mother, Gytha, fled England for Saint-Omer in Flanders, with Gunhild later moving on to Bruges.

In 1786, almost 700 years after her death, the tomb of Gunhild was uncovered in St Donatian’s Church. Her tomb included a burial plaque alongside a long Latin obituary detailing her life in exile. Such details reveal that Gunhild lived a pious and simple existence in Bruges, where “she was abstained from all pleasures” and “did not eat anything that seemed sweet to her but instead took only enough to stay alive”.

From this description, you would be forgiven for thinking that Gunhild lived in poverty, but in reality, she was still extremely wealthy.

Indeed, the only contemporary document to discuss Gunhild, Domesday Book, reveals her vast riches, indicating that she “held the income of four manors, one in Sussex and three in Somerset, comprising approximately 30 hides, giving her an annual income of just under £30”.

Much of this wealth would have been confiscated and redistributed by the Norman invaders, but Gunhild once again came into money upon her mother’s death.

According to Elisabeth van Houts, “we can get some idea of [the size of Gunhild’s wealth] from the archive of St Donatian, which in the 14^th century kept records of her bequest of gold and silver to the canons”.

• Read more | How well did Harold Godwinson and William the Conqueror know each other prior to the battle of Hastings?

Given that the bequest was still being written about some 300 years after Gunhild’s death suggests that it was clearly of great importance. So much so, in fact, that the canons of the late 11^th century had even buried Gunhild in the church as a sign of their gratitude.

Relic in the roof?

So – why were the canons so thankful for this bequest in particular?

Van Houts’ research suggests that some of the gifts were no less than crown jewels. According to records from 1389, “the sale of certa jocalia (‘certain jewels’ or ‘precious objects’) given by Lady Gunhild for the repair of the church’s roof, vault and choir” were approved by the Bishop of Tournai.

Antonius Schoonhoven – a canon of St Donatian’s – concluded that in Gunhild’s bequests, there “were among others an imperial crown (corona augustalis) and many works of the best authors richly ornamented”.

In other words, the crown of Gunhild’s brother, Harold, may well have been bequeathed to the canons of St Donatian’s before being sold to fund vital works on the church.

We may never know the truth of the matter, but as Van Houts points out, “monastic houses acted as banks providing loans and mortgages from the 11^th century… [and] the canons of St Donatian at Bruges would have expected to receive charitable donations from the English noblewomen”.

Therefore, it is possible that Gunhild gifted the canons these precious possessions not merely as a sign of gratitude, but because she was expected to do so. Yet even if we don’t know the exact circumstances, the items would have likely been of huge personal value to Gunhild – both financially and emotionally.

Historians have long speculated on what happened to Harold’s crown after the battle of Hastings, and there are no known confirmed records of its whereabouts beyond 1066. However, this insight into Gunhild’s fate after 1066 raises the tantalising possibility that it might have ended up with her in Bruges, rather than finding its way into the hands of the Normans.

King and Conqueror is streaming on BBC iPlayer now. For more content like this, check out the best historical movies of all time as chosen by historians and ranked by you, history TV shows and films to stream tonight, and our picks of the new history TV and radio released in the UK this week

As the first wife of Harold Godwinson, the last crowned king of Anglo-Saxon England, she played a part (albeit largely behind the scenes) in the momentous events leading up to the Norman Conquest of 1066.

Now she is one of the leading figures in BBC drama King and Conqueror. Read on to discover her role in late-Anglo-Saxon England – and what happened to her after the battle of Hastings.

Why is she called Edith the Fair?

Edith the Fair is known by the epithet, ‘Swan-neck’, which derives from the Old English ‘swann hnesce’, possibly referencing her graceful physical appearance.

While this term is sometimes interpreted romantically in later traditions, it might have served as a distinguishing nickname rather than a comment on her personal relationship with Harold – she was one of many prominent and powerful Ediths on the scene.

Who was Edith the Fair?

Some evidence points to Edith the Fair being born into a wealthy and influential East Anglian family – but which one, we don’t know.

One theory suggests that she might have been a daughter of Thorkell the Tall – a prominent Danish nobleman, military commander and political opportunist active in England throughout the early 11th century, not to mention a possible commander of the Jomsvikings.

Thorkell was a powerful figure during the reigns of Aethelred the Unready and Cnut the Great, serving as jarl [Danish lord] of East Anglia under the latter and playing a key role in the shifting power structures of the Anglo-Danish realm. If Edith was his daughter, this would have placed her firmly within the upper tiers of Anglo-Scandinavian nobility, reinforcing her suitability as a consort for a leading nobleman such as Harold Godwinson.

The Domesday Book (compiled two decades after the Conquest) records an ‘Eddeva the Fair’ as the pre-Conquest holder of more than 270 hides of land (a ‘hide’ was an Anglo-Saxon unit of land roughly equivalent to the amount of land needed to support one household) across Cambridgeshire, Suffolk, Norfolk, Essex and beyond. Though the identification with Edith Swanneck is not conclusive, it’s plausible that these records refer to her.

If so, this placed her among the wealthiest women in England at the time, ranking just behind Queen Edith – Harold’s sister, and wife to King Edward the Confessor.

The scope of these landholdings suggests Edith would have held considerable economic and administrative responsibilities, overseeing estates that would have included agricultural production, household management and religious patronage. This power alone would have positioned her as an important local figure, even if she didn’t hold formal titles.

Edith the Fair and Harold Godwinson

Edith was evidently one of the most significant figures in Harold Godwinson’s life. They had a Danish-style marriage, or more danico – a form of cohabitation recognised under Anglo-Saxon law, though not by the Church.

Such unions were common among the Anglo-Danish nobility, carrying legal rights and social legitimacy, especially in the earlier part of the 11th century. There is little doubt that Edith was seen at the time as Harold’s lawful wife, and their children as legitimate.

The pair were likely together from the early 1050s until Harold’s accession to the throne in 1066. During that time, they had at least five children, including another Harold and Ulf, both of whom would be involved in later resistance to Norman rule.

Edith appears to have lived with Harold primarily at his estates in East Anglia and Wessex.

What happened to Edith when Harold married a second time?

On 5 January 1066, Edward the Confessor died without an heir, triggering a succession crisis. Harold, then Earl of Wessex and the most powerful nobleman in England, was elected king by the Witenagemot, the council of nobles, and crowned the next day.

At some point – likely in 1066 – Harold entered into a Church-sanctioned marriage with Ealdgyth (who, unhelpfully for us, was also known as Edith) of Mercia. She was a sister of Edwin, Earl of Mercia, and Morcar, Earl of Northumbria. This marriage was evidently a canny political arrangement, designed to secure the loyalty of the earls, whose support Harold needed to consolidate his kingship.

While such political marriages were common, Edith’s displacement marked a personal and legal turning point. As a handfasted wife, she now had no formal claim to queenship, and her removal from Harold’s household would have rocked her social and political standing.

Watch: The real history behind King and Conqueror

Was Edith at the battle of Hastings – and did she identify Harold’s body?

Later that year, Harold faced two major invasions: one from Harald Hardrada of Norway (supported by Harold’s spurned brother Tostig Godwinson) in the north, and the other from Duke William of Normandy in the south. After defeating Hardrada and Tostig at the battle of Stamford Bridge in September, Harold marched rapidly south to confront William’s invading force.

At the battle of Hastings on 14 October 1066, Harold was killed. His death was followed by the rout of his army and, ultimately, William’s accession to the English throne.

One of the most enduring traditions involving Edith the Fair relates to the aftermath of the battle of Hastings. According to some later sources, including the Norman poet Wace’s Roman de Rou and the writings of William of Malmesbury, Harold’s body was so mutilated that it could only be identified by a woman variously described as his mistress or common-law wife.

The veracity of the story is hard to judge. The Norman chroniclers don’t mention Edith by name, but nevertheless, the tradition persisted and by the 12th century, it had become part of the broader narrative of the conquest.

According to some versions of the story, Edith appealed directly to the victorious William the Conqueror for the right to bury Harold's body and was granted permission. The body was then interred at Waltham Abbey, which Harold had founded and patronised during his lifetime.

Other sources suggest Harold’s remains were never clearly identified, or were buried elsewhere.

What happened to Edith the Fair following the Norman Conquest

Very little is known of Edith the Fair’s life following 1066. If she is indeed the ‘Eddeva’ of the Domesday Book, then her estates were confiscated or transferred to Norman lords by 1086, as was typical for many Anglo-Saxon nobles and their families.

She may have lived quietly under Norman rule, possibly under the protection of surviving family members. There’s also no firm evidence that she entered a religious house, remarried or fled the country, though such outcomes were common for women in her position.

Edith and Harold’s sons, Harold and Ulf, survived the Conquest and may have fled to Ireland or Scandinavia. One was captured by William and possibly held as a hostage, while the other later returned to England during the turbulent reigns of William’s successors.

Like their mother, they too largely vanished from the political stage and historical record.

1066: The battle for England

Member exclusive | The year 1066 is the most famous in English history, but there's a lot more to the story than one bloody battle at Hastings. In this four-part series, medievalist Marc Morris talks David Musgrove through the full story of the Norman Conquest.

Watch all episodes now

King and Conqueror is streaming on BBC iPlayer now. For more content like this, check out the best historical movies of all time as chosen by historians and ranked by you, history TV shows and films to stream tonight, and our picks of the new history TV and radio released in the UK this week

Their competing ambitions and rivalry played no small part in the eventual end of Anglo-Saxon England, and the onset of the Norman Conquest.

Tostig, long overshadowed by his brother Harold, would ultimately become both an instigator and a victim of one of the most consequential years in English history – a moment explored in the new BBC series King and Conqueror.

Who was Tostig Godwinson?

Tostig Godwinson was the younger brother of King Harold Godwinson, the king who lost his crown (and life) to William the Conqueror at the battle of Hastings in 1066.

Through his support of the Norwegian king Harald Hardrada, Tostig helped to hurry the two invasions of 1066, that weakened England’s defences and left the country vulnerable to Norman conquest.

Tostig as Earl of Northumbria

Tostig’s place in the story of 1066 is inseparable from the extraordinary power of his family. His father, Godwin of Wessex, rose from obscurity to become the most influential noble in England: so powerful that when he and his children were exiled by the king, Edward the Confessor, in 1051, popular pressure forced their return within a year. It was a clear signal: the Godwins rivalled the authority of the crown itself.

When Godwin died in 1053, Harold took his place as the Earl of Wessex, effectively becoming second in power only to the king.

Tostig gained the earldom of Northumbria two years later in 1055, when Earl Siward – a loyal supporter of Edward and a powerful figure of Danish descent – died without an heir.

Though a southerner, Edward appointed Tostig to fill the position, likely due to his family’s clout at court rather than local popularity.

What is certain is that Tostig’s rule in Northumbria was troubled from the start.

The region had strong Scandinavian ties and operated with a degree of autonomy. Its aristocracy was unused to southern interference, and Tostig’s governance quickly bred resentment. He was accused of levying oppressive taxes, implementing unfamiliar laws and executing nobles without due process.

By October 1065, dissatisfaction boiled over into open rebellion. The revolt was led by local magnates and thanes, – including Gamelbearn; Dunstan, son of Æthelnoth; and Glonieorn, son of Heardwulf – who had deep roots in the region’s ruling elite.

They stormed York, killed Tostig’s supporters, and declared him outlawed.

Watch: The real history behind King and Conqueror

Why did Tostig betray his brother Harold?

The rebels sought support from Harold Godwinson – and rather than defend his brother, Harold negotiated with the rebels, ultimately agreeing to replace Tostig as earl.

This was likely out of a desire to prevent a wider civil war on the cusp of an expected Norman invasion. King Edward, old and ailing, was reportedly enraged by Harold’s actions but ultimately bowed to necessity. Tostig was replaced as earl by Morcar, brother of Earl Edwin of Mercia, in a concession to northern demands.

Tostig viewed Harold’s actions as a profound betrayal, but for Harold, the preservation of national stability outweighed familial loyalty. With the kingdom under threat from multiple foreign claimants, the spread of rebellion in the north was a dangerous distraction.

Tostig’s offer to Harald Hardrada

Furious and humiliated by his toppling and by being abandoned by his brother, Tostig was forced into exile.

First he travelled to Flanders, where he had family ties through his wife, Judith, daughter of Count Baldwin IV. He sought aid from European courts to reclaim his earldom, approaching William of Normandy, who was preparing his own claim to the English throne, but found no welcome there.

Tostig ultimately turned to Norway, offering his support to King Harald Hardrada.

For Tostig, this formidable Norwegian monarch served both a path to revenge and a chance to return to power. For Harald, the timing was fortuitous.

Hardrada was an infamous warrior-king who had spent his youth fighting across Europe, from the Byzantine empire to the lands of the Kievan Rus. A half-brother of King Olaf II of Norway, Harald had fought at the battle of Stiklestad (1030) and spent years as a mercenary in the Varangian Guard before returning to claim the Norwegian throne in 1046.

He ruled as a fierce, autocratic monarch, feared in Scandinavia and renowned across Christendom. His own claim to the English throne derived from a tenuous but not implausible agreement: in 1038, Harthacnut (son of Cnut the Great and Emma of Normandy) and Magnus I of Norway had supposedly agreed that if either died without an heir, the other would inherit his kingdom.

When Edward the Confessor died childless in January 1066, triggering a bitter succession crisis, Harald viewed it as an opportunity to revive this claim.

His purported promise to Duke William of Normandy years earlier aside, Edward had not named a clear heir, and there were multiple potential claimants to the throne. The Witenagemot – the Anglo-Saxon council of nobles – chose Harold Godwinson, Earl of Wessex, as king.

He was crowned swiftly, but two fearsome rivals quickly emerged: William, claiming Edward had promised him the crown, and Hardrada, citing his Norse inheritance rights stemming back to Cnut.

Hardrada didn’t actually press his claim until approached by Tostig. Tostig’s offer of support, and his inside knowledge of the Anglo-Saxon state and infrastructure, made the proposition suddenly irresistible. So, with both set to gain, the two men forged a mutually advantageous alliance.

In September 1066, they launched their invasion of England.

Stamford Bridge: Tostig’s revenge backfires

Harald and Tostig landed near York and defeated local forces at the battle of Gate Fulford on 20 September, killing hundreds of English troops. They then demanded hostages and supplies, expecting little resistance.

But Tostig’s brother Harold, displaying remarkable speed, force-marched his army north and took the Norwegian host by surprise at Stamford Bridge on 25 September.

Accounts describe a dramatic clash: the English fought across a narrow bridge, with one giant Norse warrior said to have held it singlehandedly before being felled from below. But, having been caught unawares, Harald and his men were roundly defeated.

Hardrada was killed in the chaos (arguably bringing the Viking Age to an end with him), and Tostig, refusing to yield, died fighting beside him.

Had Hardrada succeeded, Tostig would likely have been restored as Earl of Northumbria, possibly even elevated further in gratitude. But, in the long-term, he likely would have been in considerable danger. As a Godwinson, and a brother of Harold, Tostig would have been a rival to deal with; not a vital ally for support.

In the end, Tostig’s grand ambitions and feud with his brother died with him at Stamford Bridge.

Yet if his true aim was to bring about his brother’s downfall, he did ultimately get his wish at Hastings, even if he didn’t live to see it.

1066: The battle for England

Member exclusive | The year 1066 is the most famous in English history, but there's a lot more to the story than one bloody battle at Hastings. In this four-part series, medievalist Marc Morris talks David Musgrove through the full story of the Norman Conquest.

Watch all episodes now

King and Conqueror is streaming on BBC iPlayer now. For more content like this, check out the best historical movies of all time as chosen by historians and ranked by you, history TV shows and films to stream tonight, and our picks of the new history TV and radio released in the UK this week

The BBC’s King and Conqueror steps into that breach, taking us back to 11th-century England and the Norman Conquest, to the story told in the Bayeux Tapestry – which you may have heard will be loaned back to the UK from France in 2026.

King and Conqueror is the story of how Duke William of Normandy, a man descended from Vikings, won the English throne and became William the Conqueror.

But it’s also the story of the rise and fall of Harold Godwinson, the last crowned Anglo-Saxon king of England, and a man who had to die for William to succeed. And it’s the story of an unlikely bromance between these two men, underscored by an almost-certainly ahistorical heart-to-heart in a bathtub.

Who are the king and conqueror of King and Conqueror?

James Norton (Happy Valley) stars as Harold Godwinson and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau (Game of Thrones) plays his nemesis, William of Normandy, aka the Conqueror.

The eight-part drama begins with the coronation of Harold’s predecessor, Edward the Confessor, in 1043, and takes us through to exactly where you’d think it would (and if this is a spoiler, apologies, but you’ve had nearly 1,000 years to catch up): with Harold dead at the battle of Hastings, with an arrow in his eye.

Whether Harold really was felled by an arrow is a point of scholarly debate (tied to the Bayeux Tapestry, which confusingly, isn’t even a tapestry) but the show does a nifty job of explaining the arrow away. Also neatly handled in a story dominated by three men are the women behind the Norman Conquest: Matilda of Flanders (William’s wife), Emma of Normandy (Edward’s mother), Edith the Fair (Harold’s wife) and Edith of Wessex (Harold’s sister and Edward’s wife, who is named Gunhild in the show). They are all able political actors in their own right, as they were in real history.

Elsewhere, though, King and Conqueror could be seen to fall foul of its own ambition, truncating and conflating people and events to its own ends. The portrayal of poor Harald Hardrada, in particular – the Norwegian king and third claimant to England’s throne – falls into a familiar ‘brutish Viking’ trope.

Is King and Conqueror a true story?

Yes, a lot of King and Conqueror is a true story – in the sense that Duke William did invade England, Harold was slain on the battlefield at Hastings, and William claimed the throne in his place – but liberties have been taken with the historical record.

Not least, if you set aside Harold, almost none of the historical figures who die in King and Conqueror (and it’s a surprising number) meet their end how they are supposed to, when they are supposed to or where they are supposed to. That seems to have been unavoidable as the eight episodes span more than 20 years – there is a lot of history packed in here, and not a lot of time to cover it.

Watch this video for the truth behind William and Harold's in-show bromance, or scroll on for the real history behind King and Conqueror – and if you don’t want spoilers, look away now.

King and Conqueror: the real history

** This section contains major spoilers for King and Conqueror**

King and Conqueror opens in 1043, with the coronation of Edward the Confessor. The real Edward was a monarch popularly described as being a bit weak and feeble, and perhaps more concerned with preparing his soul for life ever after than the daily rigours of kingship.

This holier-than-thou reputation may have been the result of reinvention and revisionism – historian Tom Licence describes him instead as “strong, glorious, feared by his enemies”, a king who wielded power in his own right. But it is the feeble Edward we see here, a touched man who hears the whispered word of God and is ruled by his domineering mother, Emma of Normandy.

Emma bears the distinction of being the only woman to have been consort to two kings of England: Aethelred the Unready and Cnut the Great. She is also the mother of two more English kings: first Harthacnut from 1040 until 1042, then Edward immediately after.

In King and Conquerer, Edward’s court is dominated by two factions – the Normans, led by Emma, and the Godwin family.

Here, as in real history, Earl Godwin of Wessex is one of the most powerful men in England. His rise came during the chaos that followed the Danish conquest of England in the early 11th century, when he became an advisor to King Cnut. He forged a familial tie with Cnut by marrying a Danish wife, Gytha, whose brother was a jarl [a Danish chief] married to Cnut’s own sister. And he created another familial tie with Edward the Confessor, arranging for the king to marry his daughter Edith. This brought Godwin to the height of his power – though in real history, almost three years into Edward’s reign.

In King and Conqueror Godwin’s daughter is named Gunhild, presumably because Harold also marries an Edith, and the laws of historical drama say you can’t have two people with the same name. Godwin also has more sons than we see on the small screen – Sweyn, Harold and Tostig should have also been joined by Gyrth, Leofwine and Wulfnoth. In real history, that was important to the succession crisis that happened two decades later.

But for now, it is 1043, and it is Edward’s coronation.

William is present, and he and Harold have met. Neither of these things are true – the earliest existing record of William coming to England says he does so in 1051, and he couldn’t have met Harold on that occasion as Harold was in exile (more on that in a moment). The first confirmed meeting we know is in 1065, when Harold ends up in Normandy, and when he apparently swears on holy relics that he would support William as the next king of England.

As King and Conqueror tells it, no sooner does the crown touch Edward’s head than Emma reveals her true intentions, using her son to banish the Godwins from England. They escape to Flanders, ruled by the Machiavellian Count Baldwin, but minus Harold’s wife Edith, who is kidnapped by the Mercians during the escape. William appears here too – he’s been ousted from Normandy by his one-time protector, King Henry I of France, who now seeks to murder William and absorb Normandy into his own lands. It makes sense that he would be here, because his wife is Matilda of Flanders, and Baldwin is her father. Though she probably didn’t moonlight as a torturer, as the show implies.

If these events seem a bit rushed, it’s because this is contracted history: the real Godwins were exiled, but not until 1051 – nearly a decade into Edward’s reign.

Edith, as far as we know, was never taken captive. Some of the family end up in Flanders, but not all. Harold, in particular, heads to Ireland, before the Godwins raise armies and sail back to regain their lands. He is not Earl of Wessex by this point, as he is in the show – his father doesn’t pass on the title until his death in 1053 – and so Harold does not have to betray his elder brother Sweyn to get the earldom.

Meanwhile, William did have to face down Henry for control of Normandy, but that conflict dragged from the early 1050s through to Henry’s death in 1060; during a siege, not the dramatic flourish of single combat as is depicted here.

Remember: almost no one dies when, where or how they are supposed to.

From there we leap forward to Harold’s trip to Normandy, bringing us to the beginning of the Bayeux Tapestry. Now we are in more familiar territory: Harold apparently swearing to uphold William’s claim to the crown over the relics of Bayeux; the succession crisis precipitated by Edward the Confessor’s death in 1066; Harold taking the throne; Tostig’s betrayal; Harald Hardrada’s invasion; and finally the three battles that would define England, culminating at Hastings on 14 October 1066.

What happened to Sweyn Godwinson?

The real Sweyn Godwinson does die while ostensibly on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, but the reasons for that spiritual journey were quite different.

King and Conqueror gives Sweyn Godwinson, the eldest son of Earl Godwin and brother of Harold, a much bigger role in Harold’s story than we think he had in real history. A boorish lout, he is shown as quick to anger and rash in action, at one point drawing his sword in the presence of the king to the astonishment of all around him. This is no man fit to rule Wessex, and Godwin passes him over for Harold, mollifying Sweyn with the promise of the earldom of Northumbria.

When Harold robs him of that too – giving Northumbria to another brother, Tostig Godwinson – Sweyn becomes a liability, prompting Harold to force Sweyn on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Sweyn escapes, and begins plotting to regain Wessex through force, so Harold has him assassinated.

None of that happened as far as we know, but the real Sweyn – who held real power as Earl of Herefordshire – was nonetheless something of liability.

In 1046 he abducted an abbess from Leominster, prompting his exile to Flanders in 1047, yet he was back in Englandin 1049, after making a plea to King Edward. That same year, he murdered his cousin, prompting a second exile that was not so easily forgiven. He went on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and died in unknown circumstances on his return journey.

Whether he was forced to make it as in King and Conqueror, we don’t know, but we do know this all took place before Godwin himself died, so Sweyn was never passed over for the earldom of Wessex.

Did King Edward the Confessor kill his mother, Emma of Normandy?

There is no evidence that Edward the Confessor beat his mother to death with his crown – in fact, says historian Tom Licence, it would have been completely out of character.

“It wouldn't fit my understanding of their relationship,” says Licence, who was speaking on this episode of the HistoryExtra podcast about Edward the Confessor's life. “Edward's way of punishing people was to take away their assets or to put them into exile. He hit them in the pocket, not over the head.”

While King and Conqueror portrays Edward as so feeble he cannot do without his mother – until he snaps and does away with her entirely in the middle of the series, and in a manner befitting Game of Thrones – the real Edward simply removed her from any proximity to power. When he became king, he confiscated her assets and sent her into ‘retirement’ in the Winchester countryside.

“Edward most likely wanted to reduce her political involvement back to a simple status as the widow of the former kings, leaving him to rule independently,” writes historian and archaeologist Cat Jarman. “As far as we know, she lived the rest of her life in Winchester.”

Did Edward invite William of Normandy to be his successor?

Edward the Confessor may have offered his distant cousin William of Normandy the throne – but probably not by letter, and probably not when King and Conqueror suggests he does.

In the drama, Edward sends William a letter naming the Norman duke as his heir after Harold’s return from exile. This is what prompts Harold to go to Normandy – taking on the role of messenger, he wants to see how William reacts.

But if the real Edward did offer William the throne, it would probably have been when he invited William to England in 1051.

“There's definitely contact in that crucial period where the Godwins are expelled,” writes historian Marc Morris. “The Norman and the English sources together – and the behaviour of Edward and the Godwins – strongly suggests that Edward did make a promise of the throne to William.”

Historian David Bates argues that, when Edward died 15 years later and Harold was pronounced king, William would have been compelled to press his claim as a matter of personal honour.

“Whatever one makes of the actual dispute, I'm quite prepared to believe that he believed he'd been named as Edward's successor,” Bates told us an upcoming episode of the HistoryExtra podcast about the life of William the Conqueror.

“He was presumably going around saying ‘I'm going to be the next king of the English’ – it would [have] almost been that he would've lost face if he hadn't tried.”

What did Harold really swear to William at Bayeux?

No one knows for certain whether Harold gave a solemn oath to uphold William’s claim to the English throne.

This is a moment of realpolitik in the show, where William springs the oath on Harold in front of witnesses instead of merely confirming an alliance, to the outrage of both Matilda of Flanders and Edith the Fair , who have conspiring towards peace (real history doesn’t tell us if Matilda and Edith ever met). Harold, displaying his father’s talent for getting out of a tight spot without breaking his word, promises to support the ‘rightful king’. Their eyes are daggers.

This moment, on which the Norman Conquest turns, takes place in 1065. Norman and English sources vary on what was said, and even where this meeting took place – it may not have been Bayeux. Even why Harold went to Normandy is up for interpretation: was it as a messenger, or to assert himself? Did he even mean to meet with William?

Whatever the case, “he came into William’s hands – as a guest, according to the Normans; as a captive, according to the English,” says Licence on the HistoryExtra podcast. “William then took him campaigning, for diplomatic effect – to show off his new prize and give the impression that Harold was his guest.”

Did Harold swear his oath under duress then? One detail that the show doesn’t include is that, since the 1050s, the real William had been holding one of Harold’s brothers (Wulfnoth) and a nephew (Hakon) as hostages. Freeing them may have been the entire reason for Harold’s visit.

“Harold probably did promise something to William – otherwise, the duke wouldn’t have let him go (along with one of the hostages). But it’s doubtful that he swore to uphold William’s claim to the throne.”

Did Edward the Confessor die in a bathtub?

No, Edward the Confessor did not die in a bathtub in the throes of passion while his wife Edith of Wessex tried to foist an heir upon him.

They may not have even consummated the marriage.

“There's a very strong, traditional argument that Edward never really entertained the idea of having a child with Edith,” historian Marc Morris says on our podcast series 1066: The Battle for England. He points to the fact that when the Godwins were exiled in 1051–2, Edward went so far to imprison Edith in an abbey. Even though she was brought back to court when the Godwins returned to power, in that time he made no plans to remarry.

The real Edward died on 5 January 1066, after an illness of a few months. This was barely a week after the consecration of Westminster Abbey, where Harold was crowned king the following day.

Why did Harold Godwinson claim the throne of England?

It is not because he promised his father on his deathbed in the 1060s, as depicted in King and Conqueror – but it may have something to do with someone else’s last words.

“Debate still rages about what happened on Edward’s deathbed,” writes historian Caitlin Ellis. King and Conqueror suggests that Edward said nothing intelligible about the succession and that Harold outright lied to further his own ambitions, but real history is more nuanced.

“The Life of King Edward, [a tract] commissioned by his wife and queen Edith … [has Edward] stretching his hand out to Harold and, referring to Edith who was there, declaring ‘I commend this woman and all the kingdom to your protection’,” says Ellis. “But was protection the same as taking the throne for himself?”

Whether that is what Edward meant is also debated – there is some evidence that, regardless of any promise he may have made to William in 1051, Edward now favoured the claim of his only blood relative, the boy Edgar Ætheling. Edgar isn’t mentioned at all in King and Conqueror.

Harold’s claim rested on him being the most powerful noble in Anglo-Saxon England, and this is where Harold’s many brothers come back into the story. By the late 1050s the Godwins controlled Wessex, Northumbria, East Anglia, Kent, Surrey, and parts of Middlesex and Essex, and he made sure to spread his influence beyond the family too.

“He goes to great lengths to build bridges with former enemies to make sure he has across the board political approval,” says Marc Morris on our podcast series 1066: The Battle for England, noting that Harold is merely the brother-in-law of the king.

“If you are dynastically secure, if you are the son of the previous king and you've been groomed your whole life to succeed your father, and the political community expects that, then you don't need to go to these lengths.

“The thing that shows the weakness of Harold's claim is how much people at the time said everybody wanted him to do it.”

1066: The battle for England

Member exclusive | The year 1066 is the most famous in English history, but there's a lot more to the story than one bloody battle at Hastings. In this four-part series, medievalist Marc Morris talks David Musgrove through the full story of the Norman Conquest.

Watch all episodes now

Why did Tostig Godwinson betray Harold – and did Harold kill him?

Tostig had as much reason for betraying Harold in real history as he does in the King and Conqueror, but there’s no evidence that Harold personally killed him at the battle of Stamford Bridge – accidentally or otherwise.

Tostig’s time as Earl of Northumbria in the show comes to an end when Harold replaces him with Morcar, the Earl of Mercia. It’s part of the price that Morcar demands for supporting Harold’s claim to be king – the other part being Harold’s marriage to his sister.

In real history, Tostig was replaced in 1065, while Edward the Confessor was still alive, and in circumstances that testify to how much power Harold had over the king.

Tostig, it turns out, was not a good earl – he taxed heavily, allegedly murdered some nobles, and was generally unjust – and so Northumbria revolted and offered Morcar the earldom. Morcar, you should know, was not already Earl of Mercia. That belonged to his elder brother Edwin, another historical figure missing from King and Conqueror.

Edward’s plan was to restore Tostig by force; but Harold overruled him, instead agreeing with the rebels demand to install Morcar. This backfired spectacularly.

“The problem was that Harold agreed to a plan in which Tostig gets nothing,” says Morris. “Tostig is gone forever. Perhaps further down the line, Harold thought ‘Well maybe I can reintroduce him, after a period of political exile’, but that wasn't what was agreed, and Tostig is clearly beyond furious about it.”

And that fury took him to Norway, and Harald Hardrada.

Who was Harald Hardrada and what was his claim to the throne?

Reduced to a growling Viking during his limited screentime in King and Conqueror, Harald Hardrada was king of Norway whose English ambitions rest on an inherited claim – but he wasn’t invited by Emma of Normandy.

In the show, Emma writes to Harald inviting him to claim the throne; the real Emma couldn’t have done so in 1060s, as she died in 1052, but there is speculation that in the 1040s she may have written to his predecessor (and for a time, co-ruler as King of Norway), Magnus the Good.

As Caitlin Ellis explains: “The later Norse sagas claim that Harald’s nephew and erstwhile co-ruler Magnus had made a pact with Harthacnut, King of England and Denmark, as they both lacked male heirs, and when one of them died, the survivor would accede to the other’s thrones in addition to their own.

“When Harthacnut died, Magnus indeed acceded to the throne of Denmark for a time, but not that of England, as Edward the Confessor had had himself crowned. Harald may have had a tenuous claim, but in all likelihood, he was simply being opportunistic in 1066.”

Did Harold Godwinson have two wives?

Yes, Harold Godwinson did have two wives, Edith the Fair and later Ealdgyth of Mercia (Margaret in the show) – though only one was married to him in the eyes of the Church.

Edith and Harold were married more danico – in the Danish way – which among the nobility of the time would have been seen as perfectly lawful, though not Christian.

That meant he could ecclesiastically take Ealdgyth as a second wife, which he likely did to shore up his allegiances in the Midlands and Northumbria in a post-Tostig England – she was sister to Earls Edwin of Mercia and Morcar of Northumbria.

There is some debate as to whether Harold proposed this marriage as early as 1063, which would have brought him closer to Mercia and the leaders of North Wales in place of Northumbria; all we can be sure of is that they were married by early 1066.

In the show, neither this marriage pact nor the earldom are enough to prevent Morcar from betraying Harold at Hastings by refusing to enter the fray, rounding off his broadly despicable portrayal.

Whether he was quite this much of a villain is not clear – the sources don’t explicitly say where the real Morcar (or Edwin) were during the battle.

Was Harold killed by an arrow from God?

Harold Godwinson probably wasn’t killed by an arrow at all – much less one guided by the hand of God.

The idea of the arrow – depicted as a crafty bit of post-mortem modification to Harold’s corpse in King and Conqueror – has its roots in the Bayeux Tapestry, though some have suggested that its presence there may be the work of later embroiderers rather than its 11th-century creators.

But righteousness does hang heavy over the Normans in history, as it does in the drama.

Much is made of the comet seen before the battle of Hastings (true – it’s Halley’s Comet, and it appears in the Bayeux Tapestry) and that William’s half-brother Odo secured the blessing of the Pope (partially true – whatever papal backing the Normans had, Odo likely didn’t have much to do with it).

The extent of the Pope's support in real history is unclear. William of Poitiers writes that Pope Alexander II did sponsor the invasion with a papal banner, but on this episode of HistoryExtra podcast, historian Dan Armstrong suggests that a banner may have been granted later, in 1070, when papal envoys came to England to bolster William’s shaky legitimacy, and that Poitiers may have backdated the event to justify the conquest.

Arrow or no, we do have some corroboration for an alternative, notes Caitlin Ellis.

“The Song of the Battle of Hastings [Carmen de Hastingae Proelio] says instead that Harold was attacked by four knights, including William himself, and that he's basically hacked to pieces.”

And so we come to William’s coronation – not immediately after Hastings, but on Christmas Day 1066.

King and Conqueror is streaming on BBC iPlayer now. For more content like this, check out the best historical movies of all time as chosen by historians and ranked by you, history TV shows and films to stream tonight, and our picks of the new history TV and radio released in the UK this week

Despite beginning life as a child of uncertain status in a volatile duchy, he died as king of a realm he had seized by force then reshaped through reform, repression and relentless control.

But how did an illegitimate Norman boy become the founder of England’s new ruling dynasty? That’s a central question posed in the new BBC series King and Conqueror, that tackles William the Conqueror’s role in the turbulent and dramatic run up to the events of 1066.

Who was Willam the Conqueror?

William the Conqueror was the first Norman king of England, whose reign overhauled the country’s politics, aristocracy and relationship with Europe.

Born the illegitimate son of Duke Robert I of Normandy, William became duke as a child. He fought to secure his rule in a violent and unstable duchy with the support of his wife Matilda of Flanders.

In 1066, he claimed the English crown after the death of Edward the Confessor, arguing that Harold Godwinson had broken an oath to support his succession. William’s victory at the battle of Hastings marked the end of Anglo-Saxon rule.

As king, William violently suppressed rebellion to emphasise his power, most brutally during the Harrying of the North. He also restructured the Church, redistributed land to Norman lords and ordered the Domesday Book in 1086.

His rule bound England to Normandy and initiated four centuries of close ties to continental Europe. His death in 1087 left a legacy that defined the English monarchy for generations.

Watch: The real history behind King and Conqueror

The rise of William’s family and the Dukes of Normandy

By the early 11th century, Normandy was largely shaped by two competing forces: its Viking past, and its evolving place within the feudal politics of France.

Just over a century before William’s birth, the area that would soon become Normandy was a buffer zone on the edge of Carolingian control. “It was an originally Viking settlement, which was created into a territorial principality, which became Normandy,” says historian David Bates on an episode of the HistoryExtra podcast.

To curb repeated Norse raids up the River Seine in what is now France, the country’s monarch King Charles the Simple of West Francia struck a deal in AD 911 with a Viking leader named Rollo. In exchange for land around Rouen, Rollo agreed to be baptised, swear loyalty to the king and defend the Seine valley from further Viking attacks.

• Read more | When was the Viking Age?

Rollo’s descendants, who would agree to adopt France’s titles and language, became the dukes of Normandy. They ruled as quasi-independent magnates with only nominal ties to the French crown.

But despite their growing integration into French aristocratic culture, they still retained their own distinct martial identity: military ambition, legal innovation and castle-building became central to their power. As Bates explains, “there was of course some memory of their Viking past.”

This shaped the Norman identity and, by the early 11th century, Normandy was densely fortified and, therefore, militarily effective. Its dukes were patrons of reform-minded monasticism, close to Rome and increasingly influential. This was the context that William would be born into.

Why was he called William the Bastard?

William was born in either 1027 or 1028, the only son of Duke Robert I of Normandy and a woman named Herleva, who was “probably the daughter of a tanner – someone of lower social status”.

His parents’ union wasn’t consecrated by the Church, which made William bastardus in Latin, a label that would dog him throughout his life.

When did William become Duke of Normandy?

When his father died in 1035 – while returning from a pilgrimage to Jerusalem – William inherited Normandy. He was just seven years old.

With Robert’s death came an almost complete collapse of central authority. Rival Norman barons, some of whom questioned the legitimacy of the succession, seized land and turned to private warfare. Several of William’s guardians were assassinated, and the young Duke was moved frequently to keep him safe.

That William survived at all is surprising, and he owed it in part to the support of King Henry I of France. Henry initially acted as William’s protector, helping him to secure the ducal throne against the rebellious Norman barons. The most important instance of this support came in 1047, when Henry fought alongside William at the Battle of Val‑ès‑Dunes, helping to suppress a major rebellion.

William’s victory at Val‑ès‑Dunes, alongside his king, allowed him to begin seriously asserting central authority, rebuilding ducal institutions and strengthening his control of the duchy.

Over the following decade, William acted decisively to suppress revolt, assert feudal rights and place his own supporters in positions of power.

His military campaigns were complemented by a programme of ecclesiastical reform, especially through his support of Benedictine monasticism. He built and endowed abbeys at Caen, Fécamp and Jumièges, aligning himself with both the papacy and the wider reform movement in the Church.

William and Henry I of France

As William’s power in Normandy grew, it threatened the balance of power in northern France, and his alliance with Henry I deteriorated in the early 1050s.

By the mid‑1050s, Henry had allied with Geoffrey Martel, Count of Anjou, one of William’s main rivals, and the two launched several campaigns against Normandy.

William defeated these invasions, most notably at the Battle of Mortemer in 1054 and at Varaville in 1057. Bates explains: “it was a manifestation of something that was becoming very clear: William was good at war.”

Yet William’s success was as much about circumstance as his military prowess, as both Henry and Geoffrey died in quick succession.

“Suddenly the world has changed radically, and the two rivals, believe it or not, were succeeded by children,” says Bates.

William and Matilda: what was their relationship like?

William’s marriage in around 1050 to Matilda of Flanders, the daughter of Count Baldwin V, cannily expanded his alliances. Despite initial opposition from the Pope (due to close familial relationship between the couple) the marriage was sanctioned after penance.

“Matilda becomes increasingly prominent in the 1050s,” explains Bates. “It is a very successful marriage. It's a very important feature in their lives.”

Matilda was also a capable and active consort in her own right. “Matilda is left in effect as the ruler of Normandy in 1066,” says Bates. Her name also appears in charters as a co‑signatory, reflecting her recognised authority.

Together, they had at least nine children, four of whom were sons: Robert Curthose, William Rufus, Richard (who died young), and Henry: all future players in Anglo-Norman politics.

What was William’s claim to the English crown?

William's interest in England’s affairs stemmed from family and politics.

Edward the Confessor, who ruled England from 1042 to 1066, had spent much of his formative life (roughly from 1016 to 1041) in exile at the Norman court, after his family was ousted by Danish rule. During this period, he developed close ties with Norman aristocracy and ecclesiastics. He spoke Norman French and retained Norman clerics and courtiers after his accession.

And according to Norman claims, Edward himself had promised William the English throne, likely in the early 1050s. “I think William made a journey to England in the year 1051, in which, so he claimed, he was promised the succession to the English kingdom by Edward the Confessor.”

Whether that promise was ever actually made – or whether it was retroactive propaganda from later Norman sources – there are plausible reasons why Edward might have considered William to be best-placed for the role.

It’s possible that Edward regarded the Norman ducal family with trust, perhaps more so than the boisterous and powerful Anglo-Saxon nobility that he contended with as king of England.

Edward’s reign was dominated by the Godwin family, particularly Earl Godwin of Wessex and, later, his son Harold Godwinson. Edward had a tense relationship with the Godwins, culminating in their exile in 1051 and swift return in 1052, which left Edward politically weakened. During the brief period of their exile, Edward may have looked abroad to William as a way of reasserting royal authority.

Also, Edward had no children and, as he aged, the question of succession became increasingly urgent. Promising the crown to a continental ally like William might have served both as a hedge against unrest in England and a means of asserting control over the succession; at least in theory.

When did William meet Harold?

The one meeting between William and Harold that we can be sure of occurred in 1065, when Harold, the most powerful English noble, was shipwrecked in Normandy and taken into William’s custody.

By this point, Harold was Earl of Wessex and the leading nobleman in England, second in power only to King Edward. According to Norman chroniclers, Harold travelled across the Channel on a mission related to Edward’s succession, possibly to confirm Edward’s earlier promise that William would inherit the throne.

English sources make no mention of such a mission, and some later writers suggest Harold’s voyage was prompted instead by a family matter in Ponthieu. Whatever its purpose, the journey brought Harold directly into William’s orbit for the first time.

When Harold arrived on the Norman coast in 1064, he was reportedly shipwrecked off the coast of Ponthieu and captured by Count Guy of Ponthieu, who held him for ransom. It was William who secured Harold’s release, either through negotiation or by paying Guy compensation. The Bayeux Tapestry depicts William ceremoniously welcoming Harold into Normandy.

During Harold’s stay under William’s watch, the two men campaigned together in Brittany to support William’s ally, Duke Conan II, against a rebellion. Harold fought alongside William’s troops, distinguishing himself in battle and earning praise from the Norman duke. The joint campaign strengthened the personal ties between them (at least, temporarily) and demonstrated Harold’s military competence.

Did Harold give his sworn oath to William?

One of the most infamous and contested episodes of Harold’s visit to Normandy is depicted in the Bayeux Tapestry: Harold swearing a solemn oath to William while placing his hands on what appear to be two reliquaries.

According to Norman sources such as the priest William of Poitiers, this oath bound Harold to support William’s claim to the English throne upon Edward’s death, and to uphold William’s interests in England.

The dramatic staging of this event, with sacred relics hidden beneath a cloth and revealed only after the oath, emphasised the sacred and binding nature of Harold’s pledge in Norman eyes.

Under medieval custom, an oath sworn on holy relics was considered irrevocable; breaking it could be framed as a mortal sin. Whether Harold made the oath freely or under duress remains uncertain, but it became central to William’s justification for invading England in 1066.

What was William’s claim to the English crown?

Edward the Confessor died on 5 January 1066, leaving no heir. The next day, Harold Godwinson was crowned king of England – a decision supported by the Witenagemot, the English council of nobles.

William viewed this as a betrayal. He asserted his claim that Edward had promised him the throne and that Harold had sworn to support him. He therefore denounced the English election as invalid and unjust. “Whatever one makes of the actual dispute, I'm quite prepared to accept that he believed he'd been named as Edward's successor,” says Bates. “I think it was almost a matter of personal honour.”

But it wasn’t just William who had a claim; at least two others had legitimate reasons to feel entitled to the throne.

Harald Hardrada asserted that Magnus I of Norway had been promised the English crown by Harthacnut, Edward the Confessor’s half-brother, in a mutual succession pact. When Harthacnut died in 1042, Magnus never pursued the claim, but Harald considered it valid, especially after Magnus’s death.

With the support of Tostig Godwinson, Harold’s exiled brother, Hardrada led his own invasion. His failure – defeated at the battle of Stamford Bridge by Harold – is seen as the traditional end of the Viking Age.

Another with a strong claim was the closest blood relative of Edward the Confessor: Edgar Aetheling, a great-nephew of the king and a descendant of the royal house of Wessex. However, Edgar, then only 14 or 15 years old, lacked the political backing or military support to press his claim.

Crucially for his claim to the English throne, William obtained papal backing from Pope Alexander II, who sent a consecrated banner for the invasion, framing the conquest as a righteous cause. This support helped William recruit troops, ships and financing from across Normandy and neighbouring regions.

He was now more than a regional duke pursuing personal ambition; he had become a sanctioned leader of a vital religious campaign.

The Norman invasion of England and the battle of Hastings

On 28 September 1066, William landed at Pevensey in Sussex. His fleet is estimated at 600 ships and a force of 7,000 to 8,000 men, including Normans, Bretons, Flemings, and French mercenaries.

He quickly established a fortified base and began raiding the surrounding countryside.

Meanwhile, Harold Godwinson had just defeated a major invasion in the north by King Harald Hardrada of Norway and his exiled brother Tostig, at Stamford Bridge on 25 September. Forced to march south depleted and exhausted, Harold confronted William at Hastings on 14 October.

The battle of Hastings was fought from morning to dusk. Harold’s forces fought from the high ground in a traditional shield wall formation, while William’s mixed infantry and cavalry launched repeated assaults. After several hours of stalemate, feigned Norman retreats reportedly lured English troops into disorder. In the final assault, Harold was killed.

His death led to the collapse of concerted English resistance. Though not crowned immediately, it was at Hastings that William had effectively won the throne.

The Norman Conquest and reorganisation of England

William was crowned King of England in Westminster Abbey on Christmas Day, 1066. But his Norman Conquest was far from complete. Resistance – led by figures like Hereward the Wake – persisted for years, and indeed nearly toppled the new king.

Such was the scale of the revolt against new Norman rule, Bates says, that William “was facing a moment towards the end of 1069 when everything he wanted to accomplish and believed he had been accomplishing was likely to be destroyed”.

The most infamous episode was the devastating Harrying of the North, during which William laid waste to large parts of Yorkshire and the Danelaw, leaving vast areas utterly destroyed and depopulated. Contemporary chroniclers described famine, scorched villages and fields sown with salt. It was a calculated move to quash any further resistance.

To consolidate power, William rebuilt England’s aristocracy almost entirely. Over 4,000 Anglo-Saxon landholders were replaced, with most of the country’s land given to a smaller group of around 200 Norman lords. Castles, including motte-and-bailey structures, were built in major towns to secure military control.

The Church was also restructured. Archbishop Stigand (the last Anglo-Saxon Archbishop of Canterbury) was removed and Lanfranc, a Norman reformer, was appointed as his replacement. Thus, the English Church was brought into alignment with continental practice and papal reform ideals.

In 1086, William commissioned the Domesday Book, a detailed survey of landholding and resources. It remains the most complete record of any European society in the Middle Ages and a testament to William’s administrative accomplishment.

How did William the Conqueror die?

William’s later reign was consumed by disputes in France. His eldest son, Robert Curthose, rebelled repeatedly over the control of Normandy. Relations with the French king and other nobles became tense, and William returned to the continent frequently to defend his ducal lands.

In 1087, while campaigning in the Vexin, William suffered injuries during a raid. He died in Rouen on 9 September 1087. According to one account, his bloated corpse burst during the burial in Caen, where he was laid to rest in the Abbaye-aux-Hommes, a monastery he had founded.

Who succeeded William the Conqueror as king?

Wiliam the Conqueror's lands were divided after his death: his son Robert inherited Normandy, while William Rufus took the English crown, becoming William II.

This separation of realms would lead to decades of rivalry between his sons.

Despite the short-term turbulence that followed his death, William’s conquest permanently transformed England’s political and cultural trajectory. The Anglo-Saxon elite was utterly supplanted, a new aristocratic language was put in place and the legal structures that underpinned society were reshaped.

But perhaps his most enduring legacy was geopolitical: William bound England to Normandy, and the wider affairs of continental Europe. For the next four centuries, English monarchs would hold territory in France integrating the country into the web of Franco-Norman aristocracy, leading to complex cross-Channel loyalties and confrontations.

William redirected the shape of England’s trajectory and the age of the Anglo-Saxons ended with his coronation. A new English identity took shape. It was now time for the rule of the Norman kings.

1066: The battle for England

Member exclusive | The year 1066 is the most famous in English history, but there's a lot more to the story than one bloody battle at Hastings. In this four-part series, medievalist Marc Morris talks David Musgrove through the full story of the Norman Conquest.

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