When you watch Dunk and Egg’s adventures across the Crownlands and Reach, you’re witnessing something that feels distinctly medieval—and honestly, a lot of that authenticity comes from real history. George R.R. Martin didn’t just make up the concept of tournaments with lances, armor, and codes of conduct. He drew heavily from actual medieval culture, particularly the tournaments of the High and Late Medieval periods. If you’ve ever wondered how much of what you’re seeing on screen actually happened in real castles and fields across Europe, buckle up, because the reality is almost as wild as the fiction.
Tournaments weren’t just entertainment for medieval nobles—they were a complex social, military, and political event that served multiple purposes all at once. They were training grounds where knights could practice the skills they’d need in actual warfare, opportunities for ambitious young men to prove themselves and gain reputation, and spectacular pageantry that displayed a lord’s wealth and power. Sound familiar? That’s basically the entire premise of Dunk and Egg’s journey. A humble hedge knight looking to make a name for himself by competing in prestigious tournaments is actually following a very medieval playbook.
The Historical Tournament: More Than Just a Show
Let’s start with what tournaments actually were. In the real Middle Ages, tournaments weren’t single-event contests like we might imagine today. They were multi-day affairs that could last a week or longer, featuring multiple types of competition. You had jousts, where two knights faced each other one-on-one with lances on horseback. You had melees, where groups of knights fought in a coordinated battle within a restricted area. You had foot combat with swords and axes. There were horse racing events and sometimes even crossbow competitions. It was like the ultimate medieval sports festival, except people actually died fairly regularly.
The joust was probably the most prestigious and dangerous competition. Two heavily armored knights would charge at each other on horseback, trying to unseat their opponent or break their lance. If you’ve seen scenes from “A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms” featuring jousting, you’re watching something that genuinely mirrors what happened in real tournaments. The lances, the armor, the spectators lining the field—it’s all grounded in historical reality. What’s interesting is that while the show (and Martin’s books) focus heavily on jousting, the melee was actually equally important in medieval tournaments. A melee involved anywhere from a dozen to several hundred knights engaging in what was essentially a controlled battle. Alliances could form and break during the fight. You could be eliminated by being unhorsed, pinned, or forced out of bounds.
Medieval tournaments had rules, though they were sometimes loosely enforced and varied from event to event. There were designated boundaries you couldn’t cross. You couldn’t kill your opponent (though people died anyway from accidents). Weapons were sometimes blunted or modified to make them less lethal. Judges watched the fights and awarded points based on technique, valor, and success. Heralds would announce the competitors, trumpets would sound, and crowds would cheer. It was genuinely spectacular, and for a poor knight with nothing but his wits and his sword arm, a successful tournament could change his entire life. Prize money was real, and serious competitors could make considerable coin.
The Social Hierarchy of Competition
Here’s something that makes Dunk’s story so compelling when you understand the medieval context: tournaments were fundamentally about status and social position. If you were a well-known knight from a prestigious family, people knew who you were and expected you to perform well. If you were a nobody from nowhere—a hedge knight living hand to mouth—you had to prove yourself. The tournaments that Dunk attends in Martin’s stories are prestigious events, which meant they attracted competitors of varying social standings. Lesser knights sought to challenge greater ones and gain renown. Younger sons and ambitious landless knights treated tournaments as a path to advancement. Meanwhile, great lords and heirs were expected to dominate.
This social dimension is something Martin captures beautifully, and it’s absolutely rooted in reality. In actual medieval tournaments, there were often restrictions on who could compete. Some events were only for noble-born knights. Others were open to any free man of martial skill. The most prestigious tournaments were hosted by powerful lords and featured knights from across their realm. A knight of humble origin competing in such events would be unusual and noteworthy—exactly like Dunk showing up to compete against highborn warriors. His success would be shocking to some and inspiring to others.
The medieval tournament also served as a kind of social stage where political alliances and rivalries played out. Knights from rival houses competed against each other. Sometimes tournament fights sparked actual feuds. Sometimes they prevented them by allowing rivals to prove their prowess in a controlled setting. The spectacle was part of the appeal—it wasn’t just about determining who the best fighter was; it was about watching the social order play out through combat.
The Code of Chivalry: Honor, Service, and the Knight’s Oath
You can’t talk about medieval tournaments without discussing chivalry, because the code of chivalry fundamentally shaped how knights were supposed to behave both on and off the field. Chivalry was a system of values and behaviors that governed knighthood. It emphasized honor, loyalty, courage, prowess in combat, and service to those of higher status. Importantly, it also included the protection of the weak, piety, and courtly behavior. A true knight was supposed to be more than just a guy good with a sword—he was supposed to be a moral actor operating under certain ethical constraints.
In “A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms,” Dunk and Egg’s entire dynamic is built around this concept. Dunk is trying to live up to the ideals of chivalry as he understands them, which is why he feels obligated to protect Egg despite having met the boy only briefly. His sense of duty, his determination to keep his oath to help the boy, his desire to earn renown through honorable combat—all of this reflects medieval chivalric values. The fact that Dunk struggles with these values sometimes, that he’s tempted to compromise them for personal gain, makes his character compelling because it mirrors how real medieval knights sometimes failed to live up to the standards they were supposed to embody.
The historical code of chivalry evolved over centuries and looked different in different places, but certain elements were consistent. Knights were supposed to be loyal to their lords. They were supposed to be brave in battle. They were supposed to help those who couldn’t help themselves. They were supposed to be courteous to their peers (at least in principle) and respectful of women. They were supposed to keep their word. These values were emphasized in courtly literature, reinforced through the tournament system, and drilled into young men during their training. Of course, reality often fell short of the ideal—knights could be brutal, disloyal, and greedy. But the ideal itself was powerful, and it shaped how medieval society understood knighthood.
The Practical Reality: Armor, Weapons, and the Physics of Combat
One thing that makes Martin’s tournament scenes feel authentic is the attention to the actual mechanics of medieval combat. The armor Dunk and other knights wear isn’t just for show—it’s based on actual historical armor that evolved over centuries. Full plate armor, which features prominently in the series, became dominant in the late medieval period and for good reason. It was incredibly effective at stopping arrows, lance points, and sword strikes. However, it was also heavy, hot, and restrictive. Fighting in full plate armor for extended periods was absolutely exhausting. This is something you see in the books and show—knights getting tired, struggling, having difficulty moving. That’s historically accurate.
The weapons used in medieval tournaments also evolved over time. Early medieval tournaments featured sharper, more lethal weapons. By the high medieval period, tournaments increasingly used blunted weapons or weapons specifically modified for the competition. Lances, for instance, could be made to shatter more easily to reduce the impact. Swords could be blunted. This made tournaments slightly safer while still allowing warriors to practice their martial skills. The phrase “breaking a lance” was a real tournament term—literally snapping your lance on an opponent’s armor or body. It was a sign of a good hit and was highly valued.
The actual physics of tournament combat, including jousting, was brutal even with modified weapons. A lance impact at full gallop could generate tremendous force. Knights could be knocked unconscious, have ribs broken, suffer spinal injuries, or be killed outright. Armor could be driven into the body. Horses could fall and crush their riders. Medieval surgeons and physicians had rudimentary understanding of how to treat these injuries. Infection was common. Severe injuries often meant permanent disability or death. This danger was very real, which is why tournament success earned such renown and why participants risked so much.
From Pageantry to Politics
Medieval tournaments were also massive spectacles that required significant organization and resources. A lord hosting a tournament had to arrange the grounds, set up stands for spectators, provide food and entertainment, hire heralds and judges, and offer prize money. It was expensive. But it was worth it because a well-organized, prestigious tournament attracted knights and nobles from across the realm and beyond. It displayed the host’s wealth and importance. It allowed the host to assess the martial capabilities of potential allies and rivals. It could be a way to celebrate a wedding, a coronation, or a military victory.
This is why in Martin’s stories, Dunk and Egg are traveling to specific tournaments hosted by specific lords. These aren’t just random competitions—they’re major social events where important people gather. The tournament settings in the novellas, which the show is adapting, are carefully chosen to highlight how these events functioned as political and social occasions, not just athletic competitions. A hedge knight doing well at a prestigious tournament would gain not just prize money but renown that could open doors and attract patrons.
The Legacy in Art and Culture
Medieval tournaments captured people’s imaginations even at the time. They were frequently depicted in manuscript illuminations, tapestries, and later in paintings. Tournament books were commissioned by noble patrons to commemorate specific events. These descriptions give us detailed information about how tournaments were actually conducted, what they looked like, and what people valued about them. The spectacle, the courage, the skilled horsemanship—these were celebrated in medieval culture just as they are in modern media.
George R.R. Martin clearly drew on this historical foundation when creating the tournament scenes in the Dunk and Egg stories. The combination of martial skill, social climbing, pageantry, and the code of honor that characterizes these competitions has deep roots in actual medieval culture. When Dunk competes in a tournament, he’s not just fighting for prize money—he’s participating in a system that has real social significance, that can genuinely change his station and reputation, and that operates under a specific code of honor and conduct.
Conclusion: The Real Medieval Tournament and Its Literary Echo
The tournaments in “A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms” work so well as storytelling devices because they’re based on something real. Medieval tournaments were genuinely important, genuinely dangerous, and genuinely offered opportunities for social advancement. They were military training, entertainment, political theater, and personal proving grounds all at once. The code of chivalry, the rituals, the pageantry, the risks—all of it creates a natural narrative framework where individual ambition, honor, and chance can play out in front of witnesses.
What makes Dunk’s story powerful is that it takes this historical reality and spins a very personal, human story within it. A young knight trying to make his way in the world through skill and determination, carrying a secret that could matter to kingdoms, learning what honor actually means. The tournaments he competes in aren’t invented fantasy concepts—they’re grounded in real history, which makes them feel authentic and significant. When you watch “A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms” and see the tournaments, you’re watching something that echoes how real medieval knights actually tested themselves, advanced their status, and proved their worth. That authenticity, combined with Martin’s character work and dramatic sense, is why these stories endure. They tap into something genuinely compelling about medieval culture while telling a deeply human story about duty, ambition, and honor.
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