From History to You …
SPOILER WARNING: This post discusses major plot elements from Tempted by Beauty, including the climactic trial by combat scene. If you haven’t read the book yet, you might want to save this post for after you finish!
Picture this: A woman sits bound to a chair on a high platform. Below her, hundreds of bundled sticks—faggots—are stacked and ready to ignite. If the man fighting for her honor loses the duel happening before her eyes, she will burn alive.
This isn’t fiction. This is exactly what happened to Marguerite de Carrouges in 1386 France, in what became known as “The Last Duel.”
And it’s exactly what I depicted happening to my heroine Beatrice in Tempted by Beauty.
Trial by Combat: When God Decided Who was Lying …
The Last Duel: A True Story
In December 1386, two French knights—Jean de Carrouges and Jacques Le Gris—met in combat before a massive crowd in Paris. The accusation: Le Gris had raped Carrouges’ wife, Marguerite.
Le Gris denied it. It was her word against his.
So they did what medieval law allowed: they let God decide through trial by combat.
The rules were brutal and clear: - Both men would fight to the death - No quarter would be given - The victor would be deemed truthful by God’s judgment - If Carrouges lost, both he AND Marguerite would be executed—he for bringing a false accusation, she for lying about being raped
Marguerite sat on a pyre throughout the entire duel, watching her husband fight for both their lives. If he fell, the faggots beneath her would be lit and she would burn.
The stakes could not have been higher.
Why I Used This Historical Detail
When I was writing the climactic scene of Tempted by Beauty, I needed to show the absolute terror and injustice of Beatrice’s situation. She’s been accused of lying—of making false claims about her husband Walter’s treatment of her and the circumstances of her repudiation.
Everlyn de Gant, Walter’s brother, has called her a liar in open court. Her reputation, her son’s legitimacy, and her very life are on the line.
Gilbret challenges Everlyn to trial by combat: “Everlyn de Gant is a liar and has maligned my wife. I, therefore, challenge him to a trial by combat. God will decide who speaks the truth.”
And just like Marguerite de Carrouges, Beatrice must sit on a pyre while two men fight to the death to determine whether she lives or dies.
How Trial by Combat Actually Worked
Trial by combat (also called “judicial duel” or trial by battle) was a legal procedure used throughout medieval Europe to resolve disputes where evidence was insufficient or testimony was contradictory.
The legal theory was simple: God would not allow an innocent person to lose. Therefore, whoever won the combat was telling the truth, and whoever lost was lying (and deserved to die).
The Process:
1. The Challenge: One party publicly accuses the other of lying and issues a formal challenge. In my novel, Gilbret declares Everlyn a liar before Guyon (acting as judge) and the Archbishop.
2. The Acceptance: The accused must either rescind their statement or accept the challenge. As Thomas explains in Tempted by Beauty: “Once you have extended the challenge, de Gant has only two options. Rescind or accept.”
3. The Oaths: Before the duel, both parties swear on holy relics that they speak the truth. In my novel: “The priests had placed a small altar in the center of the ground where Gilbret and Everlyn would kneel and swear their oaths.”
4. The Rules: The duel is fought to the death or until one party yields (though yielding often meant execution anyway). In Tempted by Beauty, Guyon declares: “On the morrow at dawn, you will attend a mass here at the Priory, then proceed to the common where you shall both fight to the death. No quarter is to be given.”
5. The Stakes: If the accuser loses, he dies as a false accuser. If the accused loses, he dies as a proven liar. And critically—if the dispute involves a woman’s testimony, she faces execution as well if her champion loses.
The Pyre: Making Women Pay for Men’s Failures
The most horrifying aspect of trial by combat, when it involved accusations about women, was that the woman herself faced execution if her champion lost.
Think about that: A woman’s life depended entirely on whether a man could win a physical fight against another man. Her truth, her testimony, her actual innocence—none of that mattered. Only who was stronger with a sword.
When I wrote Beatrice’s trial by combat scene, I drew directly on the historical details from “The Last Duel” because I wanted readers to feel the full horror of what was happening:
From Tempted by Beauty:
“Lady Beatrice you will sit in a chair under which a pyre shall be constructed. There you will wait for God’s determination. Do you agree to this?”
Beatrice walked with her head high and her spine straight until she stood beside Gilbret. “I do, my lord. For God will prove me innocent.”
Later, as she sits on the pyre:
“Below were hundreds of faggots that would ignite in a blaze of flame burning her alive in moments. From such a high vantage point she would witness every detail of the duel.”
“Thomas was to be her guard and for that she was grateful. Whatever happened he would be considerate.”
“Thomas whispered as he bent to tie her arms and legs to the chair. There was now no escape.”
This is nearly identical to what happened to Marguerite de Carrouges. She sat bound on a pyre, watching her husband fight, knowing that if he lost, she would burn.
The message was clear: If you accuse a man of wrongdoing, and your champion fails to prove it through combat, you will pay with your life—even if you were telling the truth all along.
Civil Court vs. Church Court: A Critical Distinction
One detail that’s easy to miss but crucially important: trial by combat was only allowed in civil courts, not church courts.
In Tempted by Beauty, this matters enormously. Thomas explains to Gilbret: “It can only be used in a civil case.”
And later: “A civil court was the only court that allowed trial by combat. The church might have subjected Beatrice to trial by ordeal, but she would have died proving her innocence.”
Trial by ordeal (the church’s preferred method) included things like: - Walking across hot coals - Holding a red-hot iron bar - Being thrown into water to see if you float (witches float; innocent people sink)
The theory was the same—God would protect the innocent—but the survival rate was much lower. At least in trial by combat, if you had a skilled champion, you had a fighting chance.
Guyon maneuvers the case into civil court specifically so that Beatrice can have trial by combat rather than trial by ordeal. It’s a subtle bit of legal maneuvering that saves her life.
The Spectacle
Both “The Last Duel” and my fictional version in Tempted by Beauty emphasize the massive public spectacle of these events.
In 1386 Paris, thousands gathered to watch Carrouges and Le Gris fight. The King of France himself attended. It was the social event of the year.
In my novel, set during the Whitsun celebrations in 12th century Northumbria:
“Beatrice estimated that the crowd must have started gathering before dawn as there were well over a hundred men, women, and children keenly peering into the area where the two knights would fight to the death. Nobles dressed in fine clothes and accompanied by their squires mingled with townsfolk, villeins, and clerics. The Whitsun celebrations usually lasted a full week giving the people a much-needed break from their usual toil. Today every available person would be present to see the spectacle.”
The crowd is held back by wooden rails, with men-at-arms stationed every three paces to prevent anyone from rushing into the arena. The Archbishop and Guyon sit on an elevated platform to judge. And high above everyone, Beatrice sits on her pyre, watching.
This wasn’t just about determining truth. This was entertainment. This was justice as blood sport.
What Happened in the Real Last Duel?
I won’t spoil my novel for those who haven’t read it, but I can tell you what happened in 1386:
Jean de Carrouges won. He killed Jacques Le Gris in front of the massive crowd.
Marguerite was declared truthful by God’s judgment. She did not burn.
But think about what that means: If Carrouges had been slightly slower, slightly less lucky, slightly less skilled with a sword, Marguerite would have burned alive—not because she was lying, but because her husband lost a fight.
The truth of what happened to her didn’t matter. Only who won the duel mattered.
Why Trial by Combat Wasn’t as Common as You’d Think
If you’re a fan of medieval fiction, you might think trial by combat happened all the time. It’s dramatic, it’s exciting, it makes for great storytelling (as I clearly believe, having used it myself!).
But the reality is that trial by combat was relatively rare, especially by the 12th and 13th centuries. There are several reasons for this:
1. It was expensive. You needed armor, weapons, a skilled fighter (if you couldn’t fight yourself), and often had to pay fees to the court.
2. It was risky. Even if you were telling the truth, you could lose and die. Most people preferred to settle disputes through negotiation, payment, or legal arguments.
3. The Church increasingly discouraged it. By the 13th century, the Church was trying to replace trial by combat with other forms of proof, including witness testimony and legal documentation.
4. It was primarily for nobility. Common people rarely had access to trial by combat. This was a legal option primarily available to knights and nobles.
The 1386 Carrouges vs. Le Gris duel is called “The Last Duel” because it was the last legally sanctioned judicial duel in France. By the late 14th century, trial by combat was already dying out.
But in the 12th century, when my novels are set, it was still a viable (if uncommon) legal option—especially in England and particularly in cases involving accusations of lying or treason.
Why This Scene Matters for Beatrice’s Story
Beatrice’s entire arc in Tempted by Beauty is about reclaiming her voice and her truth after being silenced and shamed by her repudiation.
Walter divorced her (repudiated her) and declared that she was lying about his treatment of her. The church, through Bishop Robert de Chesney, agreed with Walter. Beatrice was branded a fornicator and a liar, and her son was made illegitimate.
She lost her name, her honor, her position, and nearly lost her son.
The trial by combat is the moment when all of that is on the line again. Everlyn is claiming she’s a liar—that Walter was justified in repudiating her, that she deserved her disgrace.
If Gilbret loses, Everlyn’s claims are validated by God himself. Beatrice was lying all along. She deserves to burn.
If Gilbret wins, Beatrice’s truth is vindicated. Walter and Everlyn are proven to be the liars. Her honor is restored.
But—and this is the crushing injustice of it all—the truth doesn’t actually depend on who wins the fight. Beatrice is either telling the truth or she isn’t, regardless of whether Gilbret is a better swordsman than Everlyn.
That’s why she sits on the pyre in absolute terror, knowing that her life depends not on her truth, but on her husband’s skill with a blade.
The Tonic: A Small Mercy
One detail I included that may have happened in real cases (though I found no specific documentation):
Before the duel, Guyon and Thomas offer Gilbret a tonic to give to Beatrice. The purpose: “The pyre… so she will feel no pain.”
If Gilbret loses and Beatrice must burn, the tonic will ensure she’s unconscious and doesn’t experience the agony of burning alive. It’s illegal—technically interfering with God’s judgment—but Guyon and Thomas are willing to risk it to show mercy.
Gilbret is humbled: “They were taking a huge risk and he was humbled by it.”
I added this detail because I wanted to show that even within this brutal system, there were people who recognized its cruelty and tried to mitigate the suffering where they could. It doesn’t make the system just, but it shows that individuals could still choose compassion within an unjust framework.
Drawing from Later History for Earlier Fiction
You might be wondering: Why did I draw so heavily on a 14th-century event (the 1386 duel) for a novel set in the 12th century?
The answer is simple: the legal framework was the same, but the documentation is much better for later periods.
We have detailed records of the Carrouges vs. Le Gris duel—the rules, the process, the spectacle, Marguerite sitting on the pyre. We know exactly how it worked because scribes recorded it and chroniclers wrote about it.
For 12th-century trials by combat, we have far fewer detailed records. We know they happened. We know the basic legal principles. But we don’t always have the vivid, specific details that make a scene come alive on the page.
So I did what historical novelists often do: I took the well-documented details from a later period and applied them to an earlier period where the same laws and customs existed, even if we don’t have as much documentation.
The core truth remains: Throughout the medieval period, trial by combat was used to resolve accusations where evidence was insufficient. Women accused of lying could be forced to watch their champions fight, knowing their lives hung in the balance. The pyre was a real threat, not just a dramatic flourish.
Modern Parallels
Writing this scene, I couldn’t help but think about modern parallels.
How often do women’s testimonies depend on whether others find them credible—not based on evidence, but based on whether people like them, believe them, find them sympathetic enough?
How often are women’s truths validated or dismissed based on factors entirely outside their control?
Trial by combat is barbaric, yes. We’ve abolished it (thank goodness). But the underlying problem—that women’s truths are often subject to the judgments and actions of others, particularly men—hasn’t entirely disappeared.
Beatrice sitting on that pyre, watching two men fight over whether she’s telling the truth about her own life, her own experiences, her own suffering—that image haunts me. Because in some ways, we’re still asking women to sit and wait while others decide whether to believe them.
The Research Behind the Scene
If you’re interested in learning more about trial by combat and “The Last Duel,” I highly recommend:
• “The Last Duel” by Eric Jager - The book that documents the Carrouges vs. Le Gris duel in detail
• “The Last Duel” (2021 film) - Directed by Ridley Scott, starring Matt Damon and Adam Driver. It’s a powerful (if brutal) depiction of the events
For trial by combat more generally: - Medieval legal records document numerous trials by combat, though most lack the vivid detail of the 1386 duel - Church records show the ongoing debate about whether trial by combat was theologically sound - Chronicles from the 12th and 13th centuries reference trials by combat as an accepted (if uncommon) legal practice
Tempted by Beauty is available now on Amazon, Apple Books, Kobo, Barnes & Noble. If you want to read Beatrice’s full story—including whether Gilbret wins the duel and saves her from the pyre—I hope you’ll give it a try.
Next month in “From History to You,” I’ll be diving into Eleanor of Aquitaine’s legendary Court of Love, where writers like Chrétien de Troyes invented the Arthurian romances we still love today. It’s a lighter topic after these heavy subjects, I promise!
Until then, happy reading!
Cate ❣️
Historical Note: The 1386 trial by combat between Jean de Carrouges and Jacques Le Gris is extensively documented in historical records. While I’ve set my novel in the 12th century, the legal procedures for trial by combat remained consistent across medieval centuries. The specific details about the rules, the pyre, and the public spectacle that I used in Tempted by Beauty are drawn from historical accounts of this and other documented judicial duels. Trial by combat was a recognized legal procedure in medieval England, though it was relatively uncommon and primarily available to the nobility.