Duty, Desire and Survival: The Characters at the Heart of Lady of Lincoln
Nicola
When I first heard the story of Nicola de la Haye in a dark vault inside Lincoln Castle, I was struck by the story of an old woman: the formidable constable who defended Lincoln Castle, held out against enemies when others might have surrendered, and became one of the most remarkable women of medieval England.
I wanted to know who she was, what drove her, and how she had become that woman. And to turn that into a series of novels.
Lady of Lincoln, the first in that series, starts in her youth.
Before Nicola became the woman chroniclers noticed, she was a young heiress born into a world that expected her to be valuable, obedient, but not personally powerful.
That was the starting point for this first novel: what could turn a young heiress into the remarkable woman who would one day refuse to yield?
In the novels, which I have based on extensive research into her life, Nicola’s central motivation is simple: she wants to protect her inheritance and her people. Her family honour, duty, and the future of everyone at the Castle and in her demesne who depend upon the de la Haye name are everything to her.
Yet when the novel opens, Nicola does not truly believe she can protect it herself. She has been raised in a society where men command and women are married to men who command on their behalf. Her father loves her, but he is also a man of his time. He believes her future must be secured through the right husband: a strong, loyal, trustworthy man who can rule her lands, protect her tenants, and hold Lincoln Castle in her name.
Nicola, however, wants more than safety.
Influenced by the courtly tales, songs, and stories of Arthur’s knights circulating through the court and noble households, Nicola dreams of a love shaped by honour, passion, and choice.
And she wants to be seen.
That conflict between duty and desire lies at the heart of Lady of Lincoln. Nicola knows she must marry; she understands the responsibilities of inheritance. But she also dreams of a husband who will set her heart racing, not merely a man chosen because he is politically suitable.
Fitz
Her mistake is that she mistakes charm for honour.
William FitzErneis, ‘Fitz’, enters the story as the kind of man a sheltered young woman might easily mistake for a hero from a song. He is handsome, dazzling, and exciting.
But Fitz has his own wounds and wants. He is not a villain, but he is dangerous because he is weak where Nicola needs him to be strong. He is driven by insecurity, ambition, and the desperate need to prove himself. As a younger son with limited prospects, he sees marriage as a way to gain wealth, status, and importance. Nicola is not only a woman he desires; she is also the answer to everything he lacks.
That made Fitz one of the most complex characters to write. I did not want him to be simply ‘the bad husband’. I wanted readers to understand why Nicola falls for him, and also why that choice has consequences. Fitz is charming because he is adept at the art of courtliness, he is wounded because life has taught him to feel second-best, and he is selfish because fear drives him. And yet, beneath all that, there is a man who could perhaps have been better had he learned earlier what true honour required.
His conflict is between the man he wants to appear to be and the man he actually is. He wants to be admired, loved, envied, and remembered. But despite finding love with Nicola, every time he is faced with a choice between honour and advancement, he chooses badly, letting her down.
Gerard
Gerard de Camville – her father’s choice for her - by contrast, is not the man Nicola dreams of at first.
He is older, more restrained, and far from dazzling. He does not arrive like a knight from a romance. He is honourable, controlled, and burdened by his own past. In many ways, Gerard represents the kind of husband Nicola thinks she does not want: the sensible choice, the dutiful choice, the man her father trusts.
Gerard’s motivation is protection without coercion.
He has seen what forced marriage can do. He carries guilt and grief from his own family history, and because of that, he is determined not to take a woman’s consent for granted. He wants Nicola, but he will not agree to the arranged marriage her father wants without her agreement. He, too, wants to be chosen.
For Nicola, that is something she can only appreciate after experience has stripped away some of her illusions. Gerard’s strength is quieter than Fitz’s. His love is not a blaze of instant passion but a slow-burning respect. He sees Nicola not only as an heiress, not only as a bride, but as a woman with intelligence, courage, and authority. In a world where so many men wish to use her, possess her, or silence her, Gerard’s challenge is to prove that partnership is possible.
Alured
Then there is Alured of Pointon.
Alured is ambition without honour. He is the dark mirror of the men who see Nicola as a prize. He wants her lands, her castle, and the status marriage to her would bring. But there is also something more chilling in him: entitlement. He does not merely want Nicola; he believes he deserves her. And her refusal, and her father’s refusal, are insults he cannot forgive.
Where Fitz is morally weak, Alured is predatory. He understands the systems of power around him and knows how to exploit them. In a medieval world where an heiress could become a bargaining chip, Alured embodies one of Nicola’s greatest fears: that her body, her inheritance, and her future could be seized by a man with enough cunning, coin, and royal favour.
That is why Nicola’s journey is not simply about choosing between men. It is about learning to choose herself.
At the beginning of the novel, Nicola believes she needs a man to protect her inheritance. By the end, she understands something far more powerful: she needs the right allies, yes, but the authority should be hers.
Her challenges are brutal. She faces childbirth, grief, betrayal, political treachery, famine, rebellion, and siege. She learns that command is not a glorious thing sung by troubadours. It is exhausting and lonely, and it often means choosing between terrible options. It means finding food for people when stores run low, standing firm when men doubt her, and accepting that leadership is not about being fearless but about acting despite fear.
But one of the things that fascinated me most about the real Nicola was the loyalty she inspired.
Chroniclers and historians noted the extraordinary faithfulness of her tenants and garrison, and that became central to how I imagined her as a young woman. Loyalty like that does not come from title alone but is earned over years.
In Lady of Lincoln, Nicola does not treat ‘her people’ as a duty to be borne. She learns their names, their families, their grievances, and their fears. The men of the garrison are not faceless soldiers to her; they are boys she has watched train, men who have wives and children, histories, hopes and fears. Her tenants are not simply rents on a roll; they are mothers giving birth in leaking cottages, hungry children, ploughmen, millers, alewives, reeves, and widows just trying to survive the next winter.
That knowledge becomes one of her greatest strengths. Nicola’s authority is not built only on inheritance, royal favour, or castle walls. It is built on her relationships. She cares for those beneath her, and in return, they come to trust her. When danger comes, that trust matters. Men will obey a lord because they must, but they will follow someone like Nicola because they believe she will not abandon them.
One of the things I loved exploring was the kind of power medieval women did have, even in a world designed to restrict them. Nicola’s strength does not just come only from crossbows, battlements, or defiance. It also comes from household management, estate knowledge, midwifery, diplomacy, memory, loyalty, and the web of relationships women built around one another. Her friendships with women such as Gyda (her maid) and Bella (her Jewish friend) matter because they give her emotional truth in a world of political calculation.
In the end, Lady of Lincoln is the story of a young woman discovering that duty can be fulfilling, that love need not mean weakness, and that marriage need not mean erasure.
Nicola begins as an heiress in a man’s world, believing she must find someone strong enough to defend what is hers.
She becomes the woman strong enough to defend it herself, and the leader whose people would stand with her when it mattered most.