The Hundred Years’ War Explained: A Battle for Thrones
- Davit Grigoryan
- Jul 16
- 11 min read
Updated: Sep 2
Imagine a conflict that lasts longer than the lives of most people who lived through it. A war where sons followed in their fathers’ footsteps, and grandsons carried the banners of their grandfathers. Welcome to the Hundred Years’ War — the longest and perhaps one of the strangest wars in European history. The name, by the way, is just a label — people at the time didn’t call it that, and it didn’t last exactly one hundred years. It went on for 116 years, from 1337 to 1453. Quite an impressive timeline, isn’t it?
But what was it all about? In short, it was a massive dynastic struggle between the royal families of England and France. At the center of it all was the throne — the French throne in Paris, to be exact. The English kings from the Plantagenet dynasty (later the Lancasters) insisted firmly: “No, friends, that throne rightfully belongs to us!” The French Valois responded just as strongly: “No way! The throne is ours, and that’s final.” And so this centuries-long carousel kept spinning.
Don’t imagine it as one continuous battle stretching a hundred years—that’s a common misconception! In reality, the Hundred Years’ War was a series of intense conflicts punctuated by long truces, sometimes lasting decades. During these pauses, both sides negotiated, arranged strategic marriages, regrouped their forces, and rebuilt strength, while ordinary people struggled to recover and rebuild their lives. And then—suddenly—war erupted again. This stop-and-start rhythm is a defining feature of the conflict.
The stakes were incredibly high. It wasn’t just about a piece of land — it was about the right to the crown itself, about the legitimacy of entire dynasties. Who do the vassals obey? Whose laws are followed? Whose language is spoken at court? On top of that, there were vast, wealthy lands in southwestern France (Aquitaine) that officially belonged to the English crown but were under the overlordship of the French king. Tensions had been building for centuries.
But beneath the surface, especially toward the end of the war, something bigger was happening. A sense of national identity was beginning to form. The English started to feel more clearly like English, and the French — like French. The war stopped being just a quarrel between nobles; it became a matter of the whole nation.
The outcome of this titanic struggle changed the map of Europe and the course of history forever.
So, if you’re looking for a short explanation of the Hundred Years’ War, remember this: it wasn’t just one war, but a long, exhausting dynastic marathon between England and France over the crown and territory — a conflict that helped shape the modern nation-states.
A story far from textbook-simple — bloody, tangled, and insanely long, leaving behind scorched earth and piles of bones.
That’s how it all began.
Causes of The Hundred Years’ War
Now let’s take a closer look. What exactly set off this centuries-old powder keg? It all started with a royal family dispute — and not an ordinary one. Picture this: it’s the year 1328 in France. King Charles IV the Fair has just died. He was the last direct heir of the powerful Capetian dynasty. He had no children, and all his brothers were already gone. That’s when the real trouble began — a major succession crisis in France.
And there were contenders! The loudest one was the young Edward III, King of England. His claim was serious: his mother, Isabella of France, was the full sister of the late Charles IV! By the standards of many European kingdoms, including England, that was a strong legal right. "I am the grandson of Philip IV the Fair, so the throne is mine!" Edward declared. Sounds logical, right? But no!
The French barons and lawyers pulled out an old law from the Salic Franks — ancient, dusty, but still officially valid. The rule was simple: “No woman can inherit the throne, not even through the female line!” Women couldn’t inherit the French crown themselves, so they couldn’t pass that right to their sons either. Boom! Isabella is a woman, so her son Edward III was out of the game. How’s that for a twist? Officially, they had "found a way around it."
The throne was given to Philip VI of Valois, a cousin of the late Charles IV through the male line. Edward, who was only 16 at the time, had to swallow his pride and… swear loyalty to Philip as his vassal. Yes, you heard that right! Because Edward was not only King of England but also Duke of Aquitaine, a huge, wealthy wine-producing region in southwestern France. And as Duke of Aquitaine, he was a vassal of the French king. There you have the root of the English-French rivalry!
This status quo was incredibly fragile. Edward’s humiliation kept building. Philip VI, feeling like the full overlord, constantly interfered in Aquitaine’s affairs, challenged Edward’s decisions, and summoned him to court in Paris, treating him like a rebellious baron instead of an equal king! For the King of England, this was unbearable. Money, power, prestige — everything was at stake.
And then, in 1337, the last straw broke the camel’s back. Philip VI announced the confiscation of Aquitaine! For Edward III, this was the final argument. He didn’t just rise as an insulted vassal — he boldly declared to the whole Christian world his right to the French crown as the rightful blood heir, rejecting the “unfair” Salic laws. His claim became the official casus belli — the reason for war.
A spark fell into a powder keg that had been building for centuries, fueled by territorial disputes, economic rivalry, and deep distrust.
It wasn’t just a war over Aquitaine — it was a war for the very crown of France. The powder keg exploded.
Key Battles and Shifts in Power
Imagine the battlefield: mud, groans, the clash of steel, and... the steady whistle of thousands of bowstrings. The Hundred Years’ War wasn’t just about royal intrigues; it was also grand, bloody dramas where the fate of nations was decided. And in the opening acts, the main role was played by the English archers with their deadly longbows.
The beginning looked like a triumphal march for England. In 1346, at the Battle of Crécy, the young Edward the Black Prince (son of Edward III) and his much smaller force caused a real slaughter. The French knights, the pride of Europe, were stuck in the mud in their heavy armor, while a hail of English arrows — long, heavy, and able to pierce armor from a distance — cut them down like grass. It was a defeat that shook the foundations of medieval warfare. The knightly cavalry was no longer the queen of the battlefield.
Ten years later, in 1356, at the Battle of Poitiers, history repeated itself in an even more humiliating way for France. The English once again lured the larger French forces into a trap. The result? The capture of the French king himself, John II the Good! It seemed like France was defeated.
But the peak of English glory came a century later, in 1415 — the famous Battle of Agincourt. Henry V, the young and ambitious King of England, invaded Normandy. His exhausted army, weakened by dysentery and outnumbered by the French four to five times, was trapped near the village of Agincourt.
Once again, a narrow battlefield turned into a muddy swamp after rain, and once again, a storm of English arrows rained down. The French knights, confident of an easy victory, got stuck in the mud, becoming easy targets for the archers, and were finished off in close combat.
The defeat was crushing, and the impact was deafening. Henry V became the master of the situation.
The Treaty of Troyes in 1420 seemed like a final victory. According to its terms, the mentally unstable French King Charles VI agreed to marry his daughter to Henry V, recognized Henry as the heir to the French throne (skipping his son, the Dauphin Charles), and declared England and France to be a single kingdom under Lancaster rule. Edward III’s dream had come true! But…
This triumph was fragile. Henry V and Charles VI both died almost at the same time in 1422. The heir was the baby Henry VI, and the Duke of Bedford became regent in France. The Dauphin Charles, although pushed south, did not give up. France was ruined, but not broken.
The English controlled Paris and the north, but their resources were running low, and support among the French people was fading. The war dragged on, and the balance began to shift.
A new, decisive turning point was already rising on the horizon — and her name was Joan of Arc.
England had reached the peak of its power, but couldn’t hold on to it. The triumph at Agincourt was not the end, but only the high point of the English story, followed by a long and painful fall.
Joan of Arc: The Turning Point
Imagine France in 1429. Darkness. The English and their Burgundian allies controlled almost the entire north, including Paris. The rightful heir, the Dauphin Charles (the future Charles VII), was stuck in his castle at Chinon, lost in apathy and doubt. It seemed like France’s fate was sealed according to the Treaty of Troyes.
Then, like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky, she appeared — a simple 17-year-old peasant girl from Domrémy. Joan of Arc. Her name would forever become a symbol of a miracle and a turning point in the Hundred Years’ War.
What drove her? She spoke of voices from Saints Catherine, Margaret, and the Archangel Michael. They told her to save France, drive out the English, and crown the Dauphin Charles at Reims — the traditional place for French kings’ coronation.
The court and military leaders were extremely skeptical. A peasant girl? A young girl? Talking to angels? But desperation was stronger than doubt. Joan passed every test, including a theological questioning in Poitiers, and showed incredible, almost hypnotic confidence. The Dauphin, hesitating, gave her troops.
And here was the goal: Orléans. A key city on the Loire River, which had been under English siege for six months. Its fall would have opened the way south, straight into Charles’s heartland.
In April 1429, Joan, dressed in white armor and carrying a homemade banner, entered the besieged city. What happened next is still debated by historians. Was it pure military luck, clever tactics by commanders, or truly incredible inspiration?
The fact remains: in just a few days, the siege of Orléans was lifted. Joan wasn’t a great strategist, but she was fearless. She fought on the front lines, was wounded, yet her presence and faith worked like magic on the French soldiers. Despair turned into fury.
The English developed a superstitious fear of the “witch.”
The Maid of Orléans, as she was called, achieved the impossible. She didn’t just win a battle — she restored France’s faith in victory.
Inspired by this triumph, Charles VII allowed Joan to lead the army further. They cleared the Loire Valley of the English through a series of victories, and in July 1429, something incredible happened: at the Cathedral of Reims, where French kings had been crowned for centuries, Charles VII was anointed king. Joan of Arc stood beside her banner.
Charles’s legitimacy, challenged for years, was now blessed by God and the will of the people, embodied by Joan. It was a powerful political and psychological blow to the English.
But Joan’s star burned bright — and briefly. In May 1430, during a sortie from the besieged town of Compiègne, she was captured by the Burgundians, allies of the English.
They didn’t kill her right away. They needed a trial for Joan of Arc. Their goal wasn’t just to destroy the “witch,” but to discredit her mission and, with it, the legitimacy of Charles VII, who had been crowned because of her.
Under English pressure, the church court in Rouen charged her with heresy, wearing men’s clothes, and talking to the devil. The trial was a sham. Joan faced it with amazing courage and intelligence, confusing the seasoned theologians. But the outcome was already decided.
On May 30, 1431, Joan of Arc was burned at the stake in Rouen’s market square.
Her physical life ended, but the myth and power of Joan only grew stronger. By executing her, the English made a huge mistake. They created a martyr. Joan’s death did not break the spirit of the French — it strengthened it.
She became a symbol of national resistance, a spark that ignited the flame of liberation. Charles VII, though slow to help her while she was alive, later ordered her case to be reviewed. In 1456, she was fully cleared of all charges, and in the 20th century, she was canonized as a saint.
Joan of Arc didn’t win the war by herself, but she changed its course completely, turning it from a dynastic quarrel into a sacred fight for the homeland. Her short, bright life proved that sometimes the faith of one person can change the course of history.
The End of the War and Its Legacy
Imagine this: it’s 1453. The Hundred Years’ War didn’t end with a loud peace treaty or a triumphant parade. It just… quietly faded away, like the last embers burning out in a dying fire.
The fall of Bordeaux — the last English stronghold in Gascony — was a quiet but final note. The English, worn down by decades of fighting, financial crisis, and growing local resistance, simply couldn’t hold on to their lands in France.
Their “French empire,” so brilliantly won at Crécy and Agincourt, shrank down to the tiny town of Calais. The dream of Edward III and Henry V turned to dust.
So why did France win? Largely thanks to Charles VII, known as “the Victorious.” The same Dauphin whom Joan had crowned turned out to be, surprisingly, an effective ruler after her death. He carried out key reforms:
Standing Army: Instead of relying on feudal levies, Charles created professional military units directly controlled by the crown. No more independent, unruly lords leading their troops!
Tax Reform: A steady stream of income appeared (notably the famous taille tax), which allowed the crown to pay soldiers and invest in the latest weapons.
Artillery Revolution: The Bureau brothers’ French cannons became a nightmare for fortresses. Walls that had protected the English for decades were now falling in just days!
The consequences of the war were enormous for both sides:
For England, Defeat brought financial collapse and internal chaos. The frustration of the nobility and the loss of national prestige erupted into the bloody Wars of the Roses (1455–1485). England was forced to abandon its continental ambitions for centuries.
For France, Victory became the forge of French nationalism. The idea of "France" as a unified kingdom — not just a patchwork of feudal lands — took hold like never before. The king’s power grew sharply, marking the beginning of a strong centralized state.
Warfare: The war buried the age of chivalry. Infantry (archers, spearmen) and artillery became the new rulers of the battlefield. War was no longer the domain of noble amateurs — it had become the work of trained professionals and new technology.
The Rise of Nation-States: The Hundred Years’ War sped up the birth of modern nation-states. The kings of England and France were no longer just overlords of nobles — they were now leaders of nations, bound by shared interests, language, and identity.
The legacy of the Hundred Years’ War was long and complicated. It left a deep scar of mistrust between England and France — a rift that echoed through future wars and centuries of rivalry. The war revealed the terrifying price of prolonged conflict: scorched fields, deserted villages, and generations who grew up under the hiss of arrows. Yet at the same time, it became a powerful driver of change, reshaping politics, warfare, and society itself.
So here is the outcome: not just a sequence of battles and treaties, but a profound transformation. From the ashes of 116 years of conflict rose two new nations — stronger, more unified, and aware of who they were. England, turning away from the continent, set its course toward the oceans. France, now centralized and united, became a dominant force in Europe.
The legacy of the Hundred Years’ War wasn’t just the ruins of castles — it was the birth of the modern world, where kings ruled not only with the sword, but also through treasuries, bureaucracies, and the powerful idea of national unity. The shadow of this long war stretched across centuries, shaping borders, identities, and the very history of Western Europe.
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