Before the Tudors. Before the Borgias. There were the Merovingians.
These murderous queens, handsome warrior-kings, saints, and sinners, all committed enough royal betrayal to keep a chronicler busy for centuries.
And somehow, almost nobody talks about them.
How is it that everyone knows the Tudors, but so few have heard of the Long-Haired Kings?
They were the Merovingians, the blood-born dynasty that ruled Gaul for nearly three centuries after Rome fell, long before France was France or Germany was Germany.
They lived fast, loved fiercely, fought fiercely, and often died young.
And the women? Oh, the women.
In their world, marriage was a weapon, motherhood was war, and crowns cost blood.
I confess, I’m obsessed.
It began innocently enough. I was researching pagan mythology for a novel, looking for ways to weave ancient customs and early medieval history into the story.
Then I stumbled into the sixth century, and down the rabbit hole I went.
There they were: the Long-Haired Kings. A dynasty of fierce warriors, feuding brothers, ambitious queens, assassinations, prophetic women, sacred relics, and royal scandals that would make the Tudors blush… and more.
Having devoured medieval historical fiction since childhood, I had one burning question:
How had I never heard of these people?
The period is often called the Dark Ages, but fortunately for us, not everyone kept their mouths shut.
Gregory of Tours, Venantius Fortunatus, Pope Gregory the Great, and others left behind chronicles, letters, poetry, accusations, and some truly magnificent gossip.
Through their words, we glimpse a world where Christianity struggled alongside older beliefs, saints challenged kings, relics inspired awe, and powerful women refused to remain in the shadows.
And at the heart of my new novel, The Age of Iron and Ash: Thrones of Vengeance, stand two of the most extraordinary women of the sixth century.
Fredegund and Brunhilda.
One rose from humble beginnings to become queen. The other was born a Visigothic princess.
Both were intelligent, ambitious, formidable women. Both understood that a crown could protect a family, or destroy it.
Their rivalry would rage across the Frankish kingdoms for nearly forty years, drawing husbands, sons, lovers, armies, and generations of royal blood into its wake.
Neither was prepared to yield, and neither was a woman you would wish to cross.
Thrones of Vengeance is their story, and the story of the dangerous, beautiful, sometimes gloriously wicked world around them. It is historical fiction with a thread of ancient mythology, where history walks beside legend and the old blood remembers what kings would rather bury.
A little over a year ago, while traveling through Europe, I had the extraordinary opportunity to stand before Fredegund’s sarcophagus at Saint-Denis, near Paris. Yes, that Fredegund! After spending so much time immersed in her life, you can imagine what a thrill that was.
Want to Enter the Kingdom Before Everyone Else?
I’m opening my Advance Reader Copy (ARC) list for Thrones of Vengeance!
If you love historical fiction filled with fierce women, royal intrigue, forbidden romance, dark secrets, and a little ancient magic, I would love to have you among my early readers.
You’ll receive a free advance e-book when the manuscript is ready.
In return, I ask only that you share your honest thoughts on Goodreads after reading and, if you have access, on Amazon on launch day. Please mention that you received a free advance copy. Your review is entirely your own: praise, thoughts, and palace gossip are all welcome!
JOIN THE THRONES OF VENGEANCE ARC TEAM
And this is only the beginning.
Over the coming weeks, I’ll be sharing glimpses behind the novel: the real queens, the notorious kings, the myths and mysteries, the research discoveries, and the historical scandals that inspired The Age of Iron and Ash.
Some of the true stories are more outrageous than anything I could have invented.
I can hardly wait to introduce you.
May the Long-Haired Kings haunt you.
May the Merovingian queens stay with you.
Kat Christensen
Blood remembers what crowns bury.
