The Last Heir of East Anglia

A Queen Without an Heir. A Legacy Without Equal.

In the winter of 902 AD, East Anglia loses its king—and gains a queen. Elinor, daughter of King Æthelwold, inherits not only a fractured kingdom, but a fragile hope for peace between warring Danes and Saxons. Bound by duty, she marries a Danish chieftain and steps into a world of shifting loyalties, brutal conflict, and a destiny foretold in ancient runes.

The Last Heir of East Anglia follows Elinor’s journey from sheltered princess to sovereign ruler, chronicled by a devoted scribe and companion. In a land ravaged by raids and betrayal, she forges alliances with formidable women like Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians, and leads armies into battle when her people call. Despite personal heartbreak and the absence of a child to carry her name, Elinor becomes a legend through wisdom, compassion, and unshakable resolve.

This is a sweeping tale of queenship, sacrifice, and the quiet power of lasting peace—a historical novel rich in friendship, faith, and the forging of a nation.

Discover The Last Heir of East Anglia—where a woman’s legacy is written not in blood, but in the land she heals.

Excerpt from the book

Cooling, Kent, 902 AD

My name is Elinor and my father—well, that’s a moot point—I suppose that I had two. My natural father was Æthelwold and I can’t hate him because he sent me away for my own safety. Some people think that he was a coward and a traitor, whereas others maintain that he was simply ill-starred. He had a strong claim to be the true king of England, but his forebear died when he was but an infant and, of course, that was not his fault. Nor was it his fault that the Danes invaded the land and washed over it like a great incoming tide while he was still a child.

My other father was the Ealdorman of Kent, Sigebert, who was good enough to take me into his family for my protection. Thus, my best friend, whom I called sister, although she was not, was Eadgifu, who later married my birth father’s enemy, Edward, known as the Elder. I loved my time in Kent and lacked for nothing. Eadgifu was a sweet child and I learnt much from her about kindness and patience, although I shall never be as saintly as she. I swear I gained experience in diplomacy and strategy from listening to her dealings with her father’s counsellors in troubled times, although some of my skills were decidedly inborn.

You really should understand the tumult and uncertainty of those days before you assess my achievements and failures, my triumphs and setbacks. The premise you should know is that this was the late 9th century, a time when the Viking Age loomed heavily over all of England. The kingdom of East Anglia, my father’s realm, seemed on the brink of collapse, teetering near the abyss. He, as I have mentioned before, was Æthelwold, now an ageing and wiser man, who suddenly remembered he had a long-lost daughter—me, Elinor. Hidden away to protect me during such a turbulent chapter of the kingdom’s history. I was raised in a remote village in Kent called Cooling. Let’s say it was a stroke of presentiment, for he had no sons, and the shadow of his end drew near. Could his daughter, whom he had forsaken to assure her safety, return to unite the fractured nobility of East Anglia, to heal its rifts where he had failed? This question tormented him. Could she do what he had not? Could one girl, a stranger to power and battle, learn the politics and warfare necessary to save all that he held dear? He knew that I awaited him—grew to girlhood and beyond in Cooling, readying myself for this very moment, anxious and expectant, hoping not to be forgotten after all. I matured knowing the day would come when I would be called back to serve, but I was never sure when it would come. I could feel the uncertainty like a fever, burning and never abating. I’m not sure if I was more eager or afraid. I awaited his summons.