John Dryden recognised the richness of personal detail that the characters of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales provides to a reader, declaring of the varied collection of pilgrims "here is God's plenty" and saying "we have our forefathers and great grand-dames all before us, as they were in Chaucer’s days; their general characters are still remaining in mankind" (Preface to the Fables, 1700). Picard uses that rich variety and the elements in Chaucer's portraits of his pilgrims that are accessible to us to explore the world of fourteenth century English society and the mental and physical world these people inhabited.
The result is a tour of a world that is both familiar and strange. Places and sites well-known to anyone who has at least visited England are given new historical depth and events such as the Peasant's Revolt of 1381 are given a social and economic context via the lives of the pilgrims like the Merchant or the Ploughman. More unfamiliar elements of medieval life that are remote to us now, especially the (to us) strange religious beliefs and their complex social infrastructure, are made vivid via descriptions of the Monk, the Prioress or the Pardoner.
It's the details that make this tour of medieval England come to life, with explanations of why the Yeoman's arrows were fletched with peacock feathers, or the significance of the type of bread soaked in milk the Prioress fed to her little dogs. Most of these will be familiar to those who have studied medieval history and certainly to Chaucer scholars, but Picard does an excellent job of bringing all this to an audience whose conception of the period is a murky and distorted one via inaccurate movies and common cliches.
She has clearly read widely on the period and has generally stuck to respectable interpretations on points that are not entirely certain, or at least indicated uncertainties or ambiguities when needed. One exception to this is her description of the Knight, which is, unfortunately, heavily influenced by the dubious theories of the late Terry Jones (of Monty Python fame). Jones was a trained medievalist and in 1980 he published Chaucer's Knight: The Portrait of a Medieval Mercenary. He argued that Chaucer was being typically ironic when he called the Knight "perfect and gentle [noble]" and claimed the details he gives about this figure shows his audience would have recognised him as something well-known in the fourteenth century: a bloodthirsty mercenary and not a noble Crusader.
This went against several centuries of Chaucer scholarship and while it caused a stir at the time, it has not been found to be a convincing theory by scholars; in fact, it's generally considered to be full of holes. It has long been recognised that the pilgrims fall into the medieval scheme of the "Three Estates" - the nobility, the clergy and the workers. The structure of Picard's book actually reflects this, whether she was aware of it or not. The figure of the Parson represents the ideal clergyman, while other clergy among the pilgrims fall short of that ideal to a greater or lesser degree. Similarly, the figure of the Ploughman represents the ideal worker, with the other lower class figures not quite meeting his standard. So the Knight is clearly presented as an ideal figure - one who "loved chivalrie, trouthe and honour, fredom and curteisie".
Jones (and Picard) try to argue this description of the Knight is ironic, but it doesn't make much sense that there would be ideal representatives of two of the Three Estates and not one for the third. Chaucer, like all medieval writers, loved the symmetry of this kind of schematic structure, so it would be odd for him not to maintain it here. Following Jones, Picard notes that many of the crusading campaigns Chaucer lists for the Knight were sordid affairs, often unsuccessful, rather bloodthirsty and generally less than noble. But this is all from our modern perspective. One of the key problems with Jones' thesis is that it was coloured by his personal distaste for Christianity in general and for medieval Christianity in particular. He may have found these campaigns repugnant, but he failed to provide evidence Chaucer or his audience would have seen them this way.
He also tries to claim they would have indicated to Chaucer's audience that the Knight was a mercenary, but does so after detailing how common mercenaries were in the fourteenth century thanks to the Hundred Years War in France, the endless inter-city wars in Italy and the dynastic struggles in Castile and Navarre, all of which involved feared companies of swords-for-hire. What he doesn't explain is why, if this is the case, Chaucer doesn't depict his mercenary knight fighting in those places and, instead, has him off on crusades in Prussia and Algeria. Picard also follows Jones in claiming that the Knight's "gypoun" of rough fustian cloth, stained by his armour, is not the bright overgarment we would expect for a "real" knight. Both of them don't realise that a "gypoun" was a broad term which could be a rich overgarment or it could be a rough padded jacket worn under armour. This is clearly what it is here, with Chaucer specifically noting that he was still wearing this humble, stained workwear item because "he was late ycome from his viage [latest voyage], and wente for to doon his pilgrymage". The illustrator of the early Ellesmere Manuscript of the Canterbury Tales understood this, even if Jones and Picard don't - he clearly shows the Knight in an arming doublet, complete with attached laces for securing armour on top of it.
The moral here is that non-specialists like Picard need to tread carefully when choosing what scholarship to use. On the whole she chooses wisely and goes with consensus scholarly views. Her advocacy of Jones' failed theory spoils that part of her book for those who understand the material better than she does. An analysis of how Chaucer's Knight represents a lost ideal of chivalry and a contrast to the knights of Chaucer's time (including his son, the Squire) would have served Picard's purposes far better. That aside, this is a vivid and enjoyable tour through a period that is often misunderstood and rarely depicted with the richness and detail it deserves.