Difficult Damsels

Hypatia was renowned in her own lifetime as a great teacher and a wise counselor in the ancient Egyptian city of Alexandria. She was a prominent thinker, devoting herself to learning and teaching, leading the life of a respected academic at Alexandria's university. Ancient sources routinely depict Hypatia as a woman who was widely known for her generosity, love of learning, and expertise in teaching the subjects of Neoplatonism, mathematics, science, and philosophy. Little is known of her life, but her dramatic death at the hands of Christian fanatics culminating from the escalating political feud between Alexandria’s religious faction and the governing body is well-documented. Her tragic and brutal murder sent shockwaves throughout the empire for centuries and many scholars cite her death as the end of the classical world. Disclaimer: Hypatia was more intellectual damsel than difficult, and her story may have one of the most gruesome and tragic endings we have ever covered on our podcast. While we do not go into any sort of graphic detail, it is still very hard to hear. Listener discretion is advised.

Brunhild reigned as a Queen, Queen Mother and Queen Regent for a son, two grandsons and a great grandson for forty years. She attained a level of power in Medieval Frankia that few people—male or female—would ever achieve after her. In our epic conclusion of Brunhild’s story, we come to the end of the bloody rivalry between Brunhild and Fredegund. But that wasn’t the end of Brunhild yet! She had two unruly, and dare we say, petulant grandsons to deal with. But, as with many of the women in our epic tales, Brunhild’s downfall would come about simply because of the menfolk who considered her womanhood a threat. The men who followed in Brunhild’s wake tried their damndest to erase her from the history books and nearly succeeded. But we refuse to let her legacy be forgotten. This story has been absolutely insane right from the start. And it remains as such right up to the bitter, brutal end. (Spoiler alert: it’s not a happy ending!)

While most Medieval Queens were generally expected to step aside for their young sons and disappear into obscurity within convent walls, Brunhild would prove to be the exception to the rule. Even after her son came of age to rule on his own, Brunhild still held an iron grip over the throne of Austrasia—much to the chagrin of the men around her. In this episode, Brunhild faces off against threats both within and outside of her kingdom even as her rivalry with Fredegund escalates and assassins are the name of the game. Despite efforts made by her brother-in-law to undermine her relationship with her son and several failed assassination attempts against herself and her family, Brunhild proves to be a woman of iron will. And she’s not going anywhere anytime soon. Rachel and Kat play a round of would you rather and Anya screams like the banshee she was born to be.

You’ve heard the story from the murderess, Fredegund’s side. Now it’s time to here the cunning of a woman raised to be queen from birth. When Brunhild’s sister was murdered in the Kingdom of Neustria, it sparked one of the bloodiest rivalries to ever plague Europe. The early years of Brunhild were filled with tragedy, with the deaths of two husbands, scheming in convents, fighting the patriarchy—late 6th century style—and maybe incest for the purposes of rebellion. From victory to tragedy, Brunhild was expected to fade into obscurity (twice over) as the widowed wife of the fallen king of Austrasia. But Brunhild was determined to get her revenge—and her weregild—from the king and queen responsible for so much tragedy, all while keeping the future of her kingdom and her children safe.

When we last left off, Fredegund’s husband had just been murdered and she’s fled to Paris with an unnamed baby at her breast and an uncertain fate ahead of her. But this is Fredegund, and she’s not about to let that stop her from clawing, poisoning, stabbing, and climbing her way back to the top. In this episode, the rivalry between Fredegund and Brunhild escalates and we also learn what happens when you challenge Fredegund. Hint: it involves dramatic assassination in the middle of a church, snapping treasure chests and very awkward dinner parties. Just when you think this story can’t get any crazier . . . it does! Over and over and over again. Seriously. Don’t mess with Fredegund. Not if you value your neck or your life.

It’s a choose your own adventure episode and Kat chose murder! Queen Fredegund is quite possibly one of the most ruthless, vicious and downright villainous queens you have never heard of! From kitchen slave to concubine to queen, Fredegund’s rise to power earned her the enmity of another powerful queen in Frankia and stoke a rivalry that eventually devastated Western Europe for 40 years. In one of the most unhinged stories we have ever told on this podcast, we follow Fredegund as she gives birth in the midst of a siege, strategically assassinates her brother-in-law, plots to overthrow two stepsons and unrepentantly bullies, poisons and/or tortures anyone unfortunate enough to look upon her wrong. And that’s all just in part 1! Difficult Damsel’s third cohost, Anya, is also in top form this episode; insisting on making her presence known. Fredegund would be proud!

We’re back! And we’re taking a trip in the Rewind Time Machine to talk about two of the oldest goddesses in recorded history. Astarte and Ishtar both emerged out of Mesopotamia as goddesses of war, love, sex and fertility. Their influence would spread from the ancient Middle East to the Mediterranean and into Egypt, serving as the blueprint for several Greek, Roman and Egyptian gods. These ancient goddesses explore the duality of the divine feminine, as ferocious as they were sensual. Also in this episode is our very own “Reading Rainbow” segment where we regale you with tales from the Epic of Gilgamesh (cliff notes version) and read a short story about the origin of the dawn from Nikita Gill’s “The Girl and The Goddess.”

Idolator. Sorceress. Harlot. As far as wicked women go, Jezebel set the standard for which all women would be judged for thousands of years following her death. Her story is immortalized in the Bible, serving as a cautionary tale for those who would turn their back on God. In this episode, we examine the historical figure behind the tale. Jezebel was a Phoenician princess, married to King Ahab of Israel and (probably) his Queen Consort. When she came to Israel, she brought her Gods and her political aptitude with her. Naturally, the men who wrote her story weren’t happy about it. Also in this episode we discuss the concerning status of rabid dogs running around Ancient Israel and learn the inspiration behind our new favorite Commandment: thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s grapes.

To become Queen of Jérusalem, Sibylla had to endure the deaths of her father, brother and nine year old son. When she inherited the throne, her Kingdom was on the brink of civil war, slowly being chipped away by the unstoppable and ruthless Saladin. No pressure or anything. Sibylla’s first act of true autonomy would also be her last. By crowning her obnoxious husband (some guy named Guy), Sibylla upheld the sanctity of her marriage under God, but doomed her Kingdom to fall. Also in this episode, your favorite hosts discuss favorite historically-inspired shows and movies. Spoiler Alert: Kingdom of Heaven does NOT make the list. Not the glaringly obvious fan-fiction we wanted or needed.

Sibylla was never supposed to be queen. Hers is a story of tragedy. To take power, she had to step over the bodies of several important men in her life. From the day her brother was diagnosed with leprosy, her Queenship was no longer a question of “if” but “when.” In the ten years Sibylla’s brother, Baldwin IV, reigned, the Kingdom of Jérusalem was faced with two challenges: find Sibylla a suitable husband and defend itself against the arrival of Saladin. Sibylla’s brother would devote his short life to keeping the Kingdom of Jérusalem together as infighting and questionable marriage choices tore it apart.