Godfathers in Wales

The agreement between Llywelyn ap Gruffudd and Maredudd ap Rhys Gryg, drawn up at Coleshill, 6 December 1261. Via this treaty Llywelyn received Maredudd back into his peace and restored his lands: the lord of Ystrad Tywi had previously broken with the Prince of Wales and reverted to the allegiance of Henry III of England.

J Beverley-Smith remarked that this treaty showed the difficulty in forging a united polity in Wales. Maredudd was bound to serve Llywelyn with all his power in time of war, but was not obliged to serve in person alongside his kinsman Rhys Fychan. Maredudd and Rhys loathed each other, and Llywelyn was trying to avoid conflict by keeping them apart. However, if he didn’t go in person Maredudd was obliged to send his troops to serve under Rhys.

The other problem was that Llywelyn did not trust Maredudd, and arguably made that distrust all too plain. If anyone accused Maredudd, he was ordered to go before Llywelyn and swear to his innocence on holy relics. When requested by Llywelyn, Maredudd had to give up twenty-four hostages from among his nobles. If he ever breached the agreement, he would be excommunicated and forfeit his inheritance. This was quite a comedown for a descendant of the Lord Rhys of Deheubarth, who had called himself the Prince of Wales.

A fourth party in the agreement was Maredudd ab Owain of Ceredigion. In 1257 the two Maredudds had won a great victory over the English at Cymerau, but it seems they didn’t get along either. Maredudd was to ask Maredudd ab Owain if he wanted to help him recover his patrimony in Dyfed; if so, the lands would be divided between them. If not, Maredudd ap Rhys would have everything. The very definition of an offer one dare not refuse.

Reading these treaties, it always strikes me that these people - Welsh, English, French or whoever - were the spiritual (and in some cases, lineal) forebears of the Mafia. Now I love me some Godfather, but I wouldn’t like to base an ideology on Michael Corleone and his methods.

Templars and Mamluks

Back to Eddie One's crusade.

The prince enjoyed a close relationship with the leaders of the Military Orders: the knights of the Temple, the Hospitallers and the Teutonic Knights. Edward’s need for men and materials in the Holy Land played a major role in this, as did his reliance on established communication networks and the political influence of the Orders.

His dependence on them was also dictated by finance. Edward and his followers borrowed about £15,000 from the Hospitallers and Templars, for example. He also enjoyed a long correspondence through the 1270s with the Masters of the Hospital and the Temple. Joseph Chauncy, treasurer of the Hospital since 1248, returned to England and became Edward’s own treasurer until 1281. Edward also gave custody of a tower he built in Acre, the Tower of the English, over to the lesser Order of St Edward of Acre.

The Military Orders were not the power of old. In 1268 the Hospitallers may have been able to field 300 knights in the whole of the Latin East, with a similar commitment from the Temple. It is unlikely that these men were ever gathered in force in one place. Nor were they particularly aggressive. Knights such as Oliver de Termes (a former Cathar) frequently advised caution against the Mamluks, and avoided direct confrontation when possible. This helped to preserve what was left of Christian forces in the East, but did nothing to recover lost territory. The Latin field forces in the East were simply no match for Baibars and the Mamluk army.

Acre

Treaties and broken oaths

More on the tensions between the houses of Aberffraw and Dinefwr. Letter patent concerning Maredudd ap Rhys Gryg, 26 April 1258.

‘Notification that Llywelyn has promised Maredudd ap Rhys and his heirs, in return for his homage, to protect him together with his heirs, men, lands and castles from the attacks and damage inflicted by his enemies, when requested to do so by Maredudd or his heirs. He has also promised and sworn that he will never capture Maredudd or have him captured, nor imprison his son or accept him as a hostage, nor take Maredudd’s castles into his possession or custody. Further, he grants this letter of safe conduct in perpetuity, allowing no injury to be inflicted upon him or his men whenever they should visit Llywelyn. If Llywelyn should break the terms of this letter, he wishes that he and everyone consenting to it shall be excommunicated and denounced through all the churches of Wales, renouncing all benefit of both ecclesiastical and civil law. The present letter patent has been sealed with the seals of [specified] bishops, abbots and priors and of Llywelyn and drawn up in the form of a chirograph’.

Much awkwardness arose from this agreement. The only reason Maredudd consented to it was to get his son, Rhys, out of Llywelyn’s prison: Rhys had been held hostage since October 1257. However, on 17 June 1258 Henry III informed Llywelyn that Maredudd had sworn homage to the crown. This was only a few weeks after the agreement of 26 April, and it appears Maredudd had played Llywelyn false. According to the Annales Cambriae, Llywelyn held a council with his nobles at Arwysli and there convicted Maredudd of faithlessness. Llywelyn then captured Maredudd and threw him into prison at Criccieth. Maredudd was only freed at Christmas after agreeing to give up Rhys as a hostage and his castles of Dinefwr and Newcastle Emlyn.

Dinefwr Castle

This was all very dodgy, on both sides. Maredudd had broken his oath to Llywelyn, but there’s nothing in the treaty of April that says Llywelyn was entitled to break his own promises. The prince could claim that he was punishing a rebellious vassal, just as Edward I later claimed he was punishing Llywelyn. When a new agreement was drawn up between Llywelyn and Maredudd in 1261, the terms were very different. This time Maredudd was obliged to swear that if he broke faith again, his entire inheritance would be forfeited:

“There was no longer any doubt that the lords of the Principality of Wales were subject to the prince’s jurisdiction, no question that any serious breach of faith on the part of any one of them would result in forfeiture and excommunication. They were no longer allies responding to the prince’s leadership, but tenants who acknowledged his lordship.”

 - J Beverley-Smith

The Pope and Lord Edward

Pope Boniface VIII on Edward I and his father, Henry III.

"The king of England we listen to readily and more readily grant what he asks, and we readily receive and readily listen to his envoys, because we have a special affection for him and have had for a long time; and his father (God bless his soul) was greatly loved. They did us great honour. And we recall when we were in England with the lord Ottobon and were besieged in the Tower of London by the Earl of Gloucester, this king, then a young man, came to deliver us from this siege and he did us many a service, and his father did too. And it was then that we gave this king our particular affection, and formed the opinion from his appearance that with him it was bound to happen that he would be the finest prince in the world, and we believe without a doubt that we did not err in this judgement, for we firmly believe that there is not now living a better prince. True enough, he has some faults, for no man is faultless, but comparing his shortcomings with his advantages, he is of all princes of the world the best, and this we would say out boldly before all the world."

Boniface said this as part of a series of private conversations held with the French chancellor, Pierre Flote, held at Sculcula near Anagni on 21, 22 and 24 August 1300. He refers to the siege of London in 1267, when Gilbert de Clare, earl of Gloucester, held the capital for a few weeks against Henry III and the Lord Edward.

During their talks Boniface asked Pierre if it was the policy of the French to drive the English from their territories on the continent? At which the Frenchman smiled and replied:

"Certainly, sir, what you say is very true."

Which might cast the origins of the Hundred Years War in a slightly different light.

Angry old cats

On September 1298 Edward I rejoined his men at Carlisle. Here, according to Guisborough, he got embroiled in yet another row with the earls of Norfolk and Hereford. The earls were allegedly annoyed that Edward had granted the Isle of Arran to Hugh Bisset of Antrim, an Irish pirate, after promising not to make any grants without their advice.

It may be the earls were really aggrieved at Edward’s failure to reward them while dishing out sweet land pie to others. Apart from the grant to Bisset, he granted forfeit Scottish land to Adam Swimburne, the Earl of Lincoln, the Earl of Warwick and Sir Robert Tony. Norfolk and Hereford, meanwhile, were left out in the cold. This was probably due to their behaviour in 1297, when their opposition to Edward’s policies scuppered the Flanders campaign and nearly triggered a civil war in England. Having been snubbed, they flounced off with their noses in the air and left Edward with the remnant of his army at Carlisle.

The king was not yet finished with Scotland. In late September he re-crossed the border with whatever was left of his infantry, and on 1 October laid siege to Jedburgh. Robert Low, a novelist, has described Edward randomly attacking Jedburgh ‘like a graceless old cat’. The king’s lack of grace notwithstanding, the siege was anything but random. Jedburgh was the only Scottish garrison in the southeast, so if Edward took it he would regain control of the area. The army was at Jedburgh until 18 October. Supplies of coal, iron and steel were ordered up for siege engines, and the Scots may have tried to break the siege: on 3 October one of the company of Sir Simon Fraser, at this point wearing his English hat, lost a horse in the king’s service in Selkirk Forest.

Finally Edward lost patience and offered the constable of Jedburgh, John Pencaitland, a bribe of 100 shillings to surrender. John accepted and would serve his new master faithfully in the Berwick garrison. The new constable, Sir Richard Hastangs, was installed at Jedburgh with twelve men-at-arms, forty crossbowmen, twenty archers, four miners, two masons, four diggers and one engineer.

But no cats.

Holy Warrior!

W.F. Howes have just released the audio version of LONGSWORD III: (HOLY WARRIOR), narrated by Marston York. If any kind person feels like sharing this glad news, I would be much obliged. Cheers!

LONGSWORD (III): HOLY WARRIOR ON AUDIBLE

To catch a Bruce

On his return from Stirling, Edward I crossed the scene of his victory at Falkirk en route to Edinburgh and Berwick. Then, on 21 August, he made a sudden about-turn and dashed over to Ayr in the west. According to Guisborough, the king deviated from his intended route after reaching Selkirk Forest.

The king had presumably been alerted to trouble in the west. Robert de Bruce, who submitted to the English in 1297, had swung back to the Scottish cause; a curious decision, in light of the recent battle. Edward arrived too late to catch Bruce, who took to the hills and left the town of Ayr in flames. He had to content himself with seizing Bruce’s castle of Lochmaben (pictured), which fell to the English on 3 September. 

Edward had already split his army. The infantry were in Carlisle, while a company of men-at-arms had been sent off under Henry de Lacy, Earl of Lincoln, to ravage Perth and St Andrews. Lacy also took Cupar castle: it was later noted that William Ramsay, a Scot admitted to royal wages, had been ‘one of the keepers of Cupar Castle in Fife, at the time when the castle surrendered to the earl of Lincoln at the end of July 1298’.

Antiphoners and cruets

Four days after Falkirk, 26 July, Edward I was at Stirling on the Forth. The castle had been held by the Scots since 1297, but surrendered soon after the king and his cavalry appeared before the walls. Edward left on 8 August, when the castle was supplied with food, weapons and furnishings for the chapel. The fifty-eight year old king, still nursing two broken ribs, had more riding ahead of him.

 The inventory for Stirling survives, and shows an interesting concern with the refurbishment of the chapel: God came first. John Sampson, the new constable of Stirling, received a silver chalice, a vestment, two towels, a missal, a portoise, an antiphoner, a troper, and two pewter cruets.

I had to Google some of the above. A ‘portoise’ was a breviary, an antiphoner a liturgical book, and a troper a book containing tropes or sequences for the sung parts of the Mass. For their earthly needs the garrison were supplied with 67 quarters of wheat flour, 46 quarters of wheat, 51 quarters of beans, 81 quarters of barley, 143 quarters of malt, 100 large cattle and 217 sheep. For a treat, they also received a box of almonds.

After the battle

The aftermath of Falkirk. After the rout of the Scottish army, Sir William Wallace escaped the field and probably took refuge in the Torwood, north-west of Falkirk. He presumably got away on the back of a horse, just like John Comyn: ever since his murder in 1306, the Red Comyn has suffered from a bad press in Scotland, and even today stands accused of betraying Wallace on the battlefield. In reality there was little he and his small band of men-at-arms could do against four massive batailles of English cavalry, and there was no sense in hanging around to be slaughtered.

The English were jubilant, their military prestige restored after the humiliation of Stirling Bridge. A popular rhyme was composed in northern England to celebrate Edward’s victory, recorded in the Chronicle of Lanercost:

Berwick, Dunbar and Falkirk too
Show all that traitor Scots can do.
England exult! Your Prince is peerless.
Where he leads us, follow fearless.

Edward himself was probably under no illusions. The king had broken Wallace’s reputation and his army, but that didn’t restore his previous hegemony over Scotland. His infantry, who were deserting in droves and suffered heavy casualties at Falkirk, were now surplus to requirements. Edward packed off the brawling, starving rabble to Carlisle and remained in Scotland with his cavalry, to try and re-establish control of Galloway and victual his castles.

Dancing in the ring

The Battle of Falkirk, 22 July 1298. Instead of dancing in the ring with Edward and Wallace again, I thought it more interesting to focus on a far more obscure individual.

In 1306 the Prior of Durham wrote to King Edward, reminding him that many of the tenants of the barony of Coldingham had forfeited their property during the Scottish wars. Coldingham is a parish of Berwickshire on the Scottish Borders, near the southeast coastline, and home to the ruins of a medieval priory. A separate rental roll exists, which shows that as many as sixty tenants of Coldingham bore arms against the English between the submission of 1296 and August 1298. Three of them fought for Wallace at Falkirk. One, Roger le Pouer, was killed in the battle. Another, Adam Collan, survived but died shortly afterwards at Lilithgow, possibly of his wounds.

The third was Adam Bell. He held one toft and half a carucate. A toft was a house with a narrow strip of land, and a caracute a medieval unit approximating the amount of land a team of oxen could till in a single annual season. Adam, therefore, was a small landholder. He appears on the Ragman Roll of 1296, when the gentry of Scotland swore allegiance to Edward.

Coldingham Priory

It seems Adam was still alive when his land was seized after Falkrik, and afterwards vanished. He had the same name as a famous north country outlaw, Adam Bell, who was said to haunt Inglewood Forest in Cumbria with two accomplices, William of Cloudeslee and Clym O’Clough. The oldest printed copy of this ballad dates from 1505 and the tale is probably much older. Perhaps the story was inspired by the survivor of Falkirk. Coldingham is in southeast Scotland and Inglewood Forest in Cumbria, but this isn’t a problem. In the Tudor era plenty of ‘Border Reivers’, as they were called, escaped justice by flitting back and forth across the border line. There is no reason to think their ancestors didn’t do the same. Adam may well have fled down to the English West March, and drifted into the company of a small band of thieves in Inglewood Forest.

Wine to the infantry...or not

One of the most notorious episodes in the Falkirk campaign of 1298 was the revolt of Welsh infantry in the army of Edward I. The story goes that the army was starving at Kirkliston, west of Edinburgh, thanks to the non-arrival of supply ships from Yorkshire and Lincolnshire. When a few ships did get through, they were only carrying two hundred barrels of wine, which were then issued to Welsh soldiers. The Welsh got drunk and rioted, so Edward sent in his household knights to restore order. Eighty Welshmen were killed, along with eighteen priests who had tried to mediate.

This story comes from the quill of Walter of Guisborough, a notable fantasist when it came to Welsh affairs. The actual evidence tells a different story. In July 1298 seventeen supply ships from Yorkshire arrived at Berwick. Only five of these reached the army at Kirkliston before the battle, fought on the 22. The inventory survives for the victuals aboard these ships, and reads as follows:

63 quarters of malt, 7 meat carcasses, 250 quarters of oats, 725 quarters of wheat.

As you can see, there was no wine; certainly not 200 barrels of the stuff, to the exclusion of all else. It also doubtful that anyone would have been stupid enough to issue wine to the infantry on empty stomachs. The above supplies have been calculated as enough to feed 20,000 men for a week. The payrolls for the army present a confused picture. A comparison of numbers for the Welsh contingents in July show an overall increase from 10,260 men to 10,584, but six of these contingents lost a total of 195 men in the same period.

By the usual standards of desertion and ‘natural wastage’ in medieval armies, this wasn’t too alarming. Far more serious was the decrease in numbers among the English infantry. For the period up to 20 July infantry numbers reached a peak of 25,781. In the next 24 hours - before the battle - there was a drop of over 3000 to 22,497. It seems desertion was reaching chronic levels, and the battle occurred just in time to prevent the army falling apart.

Burn those castles

Between 15-20 July 1298, shortly before the battle of Falkirk, the English army encamped at Kirkliston, just south of the River Forth. This was in order to receive provisions coming upriver from Berwick. At the same time Edward I sent Antony Bek, the fighting Bishop of Durham, and Sir John FitzMarmaduke to destroy the castles of Dirleton, Yester and Hailes in east Lothian.

Dirleton Castle

Contrary winds prevented the arrival of supply ships, which mean Bek's men at Dirleton were reduced to scratching about in nearby beanfields. FitzMarmaduke was sent back to the king to explain the difficulty. What followed is one of the more entertaining exchanges of dialogue from the era.

FitzM: How are we to do this thing, lord king, since it is so very difficult?

Edward: You will do it because I say you will do it. You are an unpleasant man. I have often had to rebuke you for being too cruel, and taking too much pleasure in the destruction of your enemies. Now I say, be off, work all your dreadfulness, and I shall not blame but praise you. Take care I don't see your face again until those castles are burnt.

Sadly, it is quite possible that this convo was invented by the Yorkshire-based chronicler, Walter of Guisborough. What is certain is that the supply ships eventually arrived and the English were able to take the three castles.

A glass of Champagne

The castles of Andelot and Wassy in Champagne, north-east France. In Easter 1297 Henri III, Count of Bar, invaded Champagne on behalf of his father-in-law, Edward I of England. Henri was a member of the English king’s grand alliance against Philip le Bel, and one of the few to actually go into action against the French.

 Henri did his best to make up for the failures of others. He split his army in two, the other led by his vassal, the Sire de Blémont. The count then plundered and destroyed the abbey of Beaulieu, burning the abbey, treasury and archives and carrying off sacred relics. Meanwhile his lieutenant ravaged Champagne, destroying villages and storming the aforesaid castles. Philip le Bel was busy in Flanders, so he sent his senesechal, Gercher de Cressy, at the head of an army of Champenois to counter-attack. Gercher invaded the Barrois, on the western frontier of Lorraine, and burnt the villages of Rosne, Belrain, Naives, Erize, Salmagne, Lavincourt and Culey.

This was the normal way of war, with both sides wasting the land and avoiding direct confrontation. Unusually, a battle was fought on this occasion as Gercher and Blémont’s armies clashed at Vaubécourt. Blémont was defeated and captured, and the battle remembered in French legend as the Battle of Louppy-le-Château. An engagement was fought at the same place in World War 1. A later French tradition, dating no earlier than 1579, claimed Henri himself was captured at Vaubécourt. In fact he remained at large, and ransomed his lieutenant for 2000 livres. Oddly, he borrowed the money from the Count of Hainault, who was supposed to be on the French side.

The bogus tradition has served to obscure Edward’s own military operations, since the king later gave Henri command of Welsh infantry in Flanders. Henri led the Welsh on frequent destructive raids into French territory, heaping pressure on Philip le Bel in the days leading up to the truce of Vyve-st-Baron.

Count Floris the unlucky

Count Floris V of Holland (1254-96). Floris’s career might be taken as a classic example of the brutal and amoral politics of this era.

Floris was just two years old when his father, Count William, was killed by the Frisians. In 1282 he defeated the Frisians in battle and succeeded in recovering his father’s body. He was supported by the Count of Hainault, an arch-enemy of the Count of Flanders of the House of Dampierre. This feud sowed the seeds of Floris’s downfall.

In 1290 Floris was lured to a meeting by Count Guy of Flanders, and imprisoned at Biervliet in Zeeland until he agreed to abandon his claims to land on the Scheldt estuary. After he was released, Floris declared war on Flanders and invaded Zeeland, but was persuaded to relent by Edward I of England. Edward wanted to recruit both Guy and Floris as allies against Philip le Bel of France, and so brokered peace between them.

In 1292 Floris got involved in the succession dispute over the vacant throne of Scotland. Via his great-great-grandmother Ada, a sister of William the Lion, he had a weak claim to the throne. Floris succeeded in delaying the proceedings for almost a year while he looked for some missing paperwork. In reality he had no interest in becoming King of Scots. He colluded with Robert de Bruce, the Competitor, who supplied Floris with two forged documents ‘proving’ the count’s claim to the throne. These were judged to be insufficient and Bruce was unable to supply originals, because there were none. The whole thing was a fraud, designed to enable Bruce to purchase the crown of Scotland from Floris in the unlikely event that Edward would support his claim. Floris simply wanted money.

 The gambit failed, and Edward put John Balliol on the throne instead. Floris now played a dangerous game. In 1295 he took a bribe from the King of France to desert King Edward: his price was 4000 livres annually for life and a lump sum of 25,000 livres. He left the English camp on 9 January 1296, a fatal decision. Floris’s defection angered Edward, Count Guy, and his domestic enemies in Holland. A plot was hatched, whereby Floris would be kidnapped and smuggled over to England, where he would be given an ultimatum: return to Edward’s allegiance or surrender his title to his anglophile son, John. The kidnappers seized Floris while he was out hunting, but then panicked when some of his followers tried to rescue him. Floris was thrown into a ditch and stabbed thirty-six times. Most of his killers got away, but one was captured and tortured to death in public over a period of five hours.

The dead man’s son, John, was then married to Edward’s daughter Elizabeth of Rhuddlan. This renewed the Anglo-Dutch alliance. John, described as an ‘imbecilic runt’, appeared at the wedding at Ipswich in the company of John of Renesse, one of his father’s murderers. The new Count of Holland died in 1299, aged just fifteen, probably murdered by the Count of Hainault.

Gerald and Wales

Gerald of Wales provides a blueprint on how to conquer Wales, followed almost to the letter by Edward I a few decades later.

“How the Welsh can be conquered.

Any prince who is really determined to conquer the Welsh and to govern them in peace must proceed as follows. He should first of all understand that for a whole year at least he must devote his every effort and give his undivided attention to the task which he has undertaken. He can never hope to conquer in one single battle a people which will never draw up its forces to engage an enemy army in the field, and will never allow itself to be besieged inside fortified strong-points. He can beat them only be patient and unremitting pressure applied over a strong period. Knowing the spirit of hatred and jealousy which prevails among them, he must sow dissension in their ranks and do all he can by promises and bribes to stir them up against each other. In autumn not only the marches but certain carefully chosen localities in the interior must be fortified with castles, and these he must supply with ample provisions and garrison with families favourable to his cause. In the meantime he must make every effort to stop the Welsh buying the stocks of cloth, salt and corn which they usually import from England. Ships manned with picked troops must patrol the coast, to make sure that these goods are not brought by water across the Irish Sea or the Severn Sea, to ward off enemy attacks and to secure his own supply-lines. Later on, when wintry conditions have really set in, or perhaps towards the end of winter, in February and March, by which time the trees have lost their leaves, and there is no more pasturage to be had in the mountains, a strong force of infantry must have the courage to invade their secret strongholds, which lie deep in the woods and are buried in the forests. They must be cut off from all opportunity of foraging, and harassed, both individual families and larger assemblies of troops, by frequent attacks from those encamped around. The assault troops must be lightly armed and not weighed down with a lot of equipment. They must be strengthened with frequent reinforcements, who have been following close behind to give them support and to provide a base. Fresh troops must keep on replacing those who are tired out, and maybe those have been killed in battle. If he constantly moves up new men, there need be no break in the assault. Without them this belligerent people will never be conquered, and even so the danger will be great and many casualties must be expected.”

All of this has a remarkable similarity to Edward’s strategy in Wales, with one key difference. The policy of the Llywelyns, after Gerald’s day, was to try and ‘modernise’ the Welsh state. This involved building castles. The Welsh could now be bottled up inside conventional strong-points, which was the kind of warfare the Anglo-Normans understood. The sieges of Dolforwyn (1277) and Castell y Bere (1283) fatally undermined Welsh resistance.

Crusader contracts

By the time he sailed for the Holy Land in 1270, the Lord Edward had secured the promise of at least seventeen barons of England and Brittany to “go with him to the Holy Land, and to remain in his service for a whole year to commence at the coming voyage.”

The prince agreed in return to provide them with water and transport as far as the theatre of military operations. The barons were accompanied by their knights. To judge from surviving contracts, the total number of men committed was 105, though some contracts may have been lost or destroyed. One of these agreements, for a baron of Northumberland named Adam Gesemue, reads:

“Know that I have agreed with the Lord Edward, to go with him to the Holy Land, accompanied by five knights, and to remain in his service for a whole year to commence at the coming voyage in September. And in return he has given me, to cover all expenses, 600 marks and money and transport - that is to say the hire of a ship and water for as many persons and horses as are appropriate for knights.”

Edward in turn was obliged to serve under the King of France, Saint Louis, “in the same way as any of other barons”. He retained full jurisdiction over his own followers. Any offences committed by English or Breton crusaders travelling through the lands of Christian princes or against other crusaders in North Africa were to be tried by Edward, who was also responsible for punishment.

Edward and Llywelyn

“Nor did they [the Welsh] wish to obey Lord Edward, the son of the king, but they laughed boisterously and heaped scorn upon him. And so consequently Edward put forward the idea that he should give up these Welshmen as unconquerable.”

 - Matthew Paris, Chronica Majora [v]

Edward allegedly said this in 1257, after the destruction of his army at Cymerau and the failure of his father’s campaign in North Wales. Paris despised Edward, so you can’t take his word as gospel, but the entry may reflect something of the prince’s attitude towards the Welsh. In 1265 he deliberately abandoned some of his land interests in Wales and granted the lordships of Carmarthen and Cardigan to his brother, Edmund, who also received the Three Castles. Two years later, via the Treaty of Montgomery, the Four Cantreds in the north were formally conceded to Prince Llywelyn. Edward’s vast appanage in Wales, granted to him in 1254, was wiped out. Edward probably had little say in the treaty, but must have known what was coming. 

He went further. The Treaty of Montgomery had conceded to Llywelyn the homage and fealty of all the lords of Wales except Maredudd ap Rhys, lord of Ystrad Tywi and grandson of the Lord Rhys. Edward repeatedly asked his father, Henry III, to permit Llywelyn to buy Maredudd’s homage, which had been granted to Edmund. At last Henry gave way and allowed Llywelyn to purchase Maredudd for the sum of 5000 marks. This sum was never paid over and added to Llywelyn’s growing mountain of debts. Edward also went to the Marches in person to grant Llywelyn the homage and fealty of Maredudd ap Gruffudd, a lord of Glamorgan. This further strengthened Llywelyn’s grip on the principality, and at the expense of the Earl of Gloucester, the greatest of Marcher lords.

Paris’s claim that Edward wished to give up Wales to the Welsh was in fact an understatement. In these years Edward not only surrendered his own land interests in the principality, but actively worked to bolster the power of Llywelyn ap Gruffudd. No wonder the Welsh prince wrote to Henry III, expressing ‘delight’ at his negotiations with Edward in the summer of 1269.

Gaston the unreliable

Apart from recruitment in England, the Lord Edward was also keen to enlist Gascons for his crusade. He also wanted to ensure the security of the duchy while he was away: since his appanage in Wales had been wiped out, Gascony was at this point his most prized possession. Perhaps it always was, even though England had to come first.

Thanks to the help of King Louis, Edward managed to persuade Gaston, viscomte of Béarn, to join the expedition in August for the fee of 25,000 livres tournois. Gaston, lord of Béarn on the Pyrenean frontier, was a pain in the butt: he had torn up Gascony while Simon de Montfort was seneschal of the duchy, and never ceased raiding, plundering and complaining. Having him along on the crusade was a way of ensuring he didn’t set fire to Gascony while Edward was in the Holy Land. Edward attempted to strengthen Gaston’s future allegiance by arranging a marriage for the viscomte’s daughter, Constance, and Edward’s cousin Henry of Almaine. Henry was the heir of Richard of Cornwall, Henry III’s brother and King of the Romans as well as Earl of Cornwall. This was quite a match for Gaston, who was a big noise in Gascony but a mere squeak outside it.

Gaston was happy to profit from a political marriage, but thought better of risking his neck in Outremer. Despite French influence and financial incentives, in the end he decided to stay at home and make himself useful by arguing with Edward’s officers. This meant he lost his share of the 75,000 livres granted by Louis to Edward and Gaston, so the English prince kept the cash and carried on alone to the Holy Land.

Above are the arms of Gaston IV, Gaston’s ancestor, who did go to the Holy Land in 1096 and made a great name for himself killing some people in the desert he had never met.

Edward and Gilbert

The most important English leader whom the Lord Edward tried to enlist for his crusade was Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloucester. How much Edward really wanted him along, despite Clare’s power and importance, is a moot point. Clare had taken the cross at Northampton in 1268, but afterwards his personal relations with the heir to the throne soured again. They had worked together to destroy Simon de Montfort, but it seems fairly clear the two struggled to get along.

Gilbert de Clare

Instead of courting the earl’s support, Edward went out of his way to antagonise him. In the summer of 1268 rumours swirled about the March, Clare’s power base, that Edward was paying too much attention to Clare’s wife, Alice de Lusignan. This was probably just gossip, but the prince took more serious steps to undermine Clare’s power.

In 1269, at the request of Prince Llywelyn, Edward came in person to the Marches and granted Llywelyn the homage and fealty of Maredudd ap Gruffudd, lord of Gwynllwg and Caerleon and one of Clare’s tenants. Maredudd was a descendant of the ancient princes of Deheuabarth, but his ancestors had lost most of their territories. Shortly before 1269, Llywelyn granted Maredudd the commote of Hirfryn in Ystrad Tywi. Llywelyn then claimed that Maredudd was a Welsh baron and ought to hold his lands as tenant-in-chief of the Prince of Wales. This was granted by Edward at the ford of Montgomery. Llywelyn was poised to attack Clare’s lands in Glamorgan and Gwent, so at this point Edward and Llywelyn formed a tag-team against the earl.

Clare went into a sulk and refused to attend a council in London, saying Edward ‘wished him ill’. He also refused to attend a conference in Paris to discuss the crusade in August, though it isn’t clear whether he was even invited. In February 1270 he went to Paris under his steam to meet with King Louis, only to return having rejected all of the French king’s proposals. He then refused to attend yet another parliament, and said he wouldn’t turn up unless letters of safe-conduct were granted to him and his men.

At last Edward’s uncle, Richard of Cornwall, intervened to heal the breach between his nephew and Clare. He brokered a remarkable agreement, whereby Clare was promised 2000 marks upon his departure from England to the Holy Land. This sum would be increased to 8000 marks if he personally accompanied Edward instead of going independently. The prince’s obligation was to pay the sums described and leave before September 1270. As extra insurance, both parties were to pay the massive sum of 20,000 marks if they broke the agreement, and Clare would have to surrender his castles of Tonbridge and Henley. These would be returned to him when it was known ‘he was on the Greek Sea’. In his absence the earl’s lands would have royal protection, and a threat of excommunication was added by the bishops in a separate document. It seems nobody had much confidence in this deal.

For good reason. After more rejections and arguments, Clare finally accepted the agreement on 127 June. In August he returned to the March to make preparations for departure - that, however, was the closest Clare ever got to the Holy Land. He refused to shift from his lands, and when the expedition finally left he wasn’t part of it. Richard of Cornwall’s contract proved so much worthless parchment, as Clare was never penalised for his failure to go East.

Thomas the traitor

Some proper history-meat. Attached is an entry from the second continuum of the Chronicle of Florence of Worcester. Florence died in 1118 but his work was completed by two successive scribes. The second continuum is the work of an anonymous monk of the abbey of Bury St Edmunds.

The entry concerns Thomas de Turberville, once a household knight of Edward I. In 1295 he was captured by the French at Rions, and agreed to defect to Philip IV. He returned to England and set about trying to arrange a simultaneous uprising against Edward in Wales and Scotland, which would coincide with a French invasion of England. As a reward, Philip allegedly promised Turberville the principality of Wales for himself and his heirs.

The entry doesn’t actually say that Turberville claimed the principality, rather he was offered it by the French. The question is whether Turberville had some kind of blood link to the Welsh princes. He was probably a member of the Turbervilles of Crickhowell, a Marcher family. There may have been some mixed ancestry, since by the thirteenth century that was the norm on the March. Exactly what, I don’t know.

In his letters to the French, intercepted by Edward’s agents, Turberville claimed to have a contact in Glamorgan named Morgan. Morgan, he wrote, had promised to raise the Welsh against Edward when the French landed. This must have been Morgan ap Maredudd, the only Welsh landholder in Glamorgan with the power and status to raise an army of Welshmen. The exact words of the letter are:

“And know that we think that we have enough to do against those of Scotland; and if those of Scotland rise against the King of England, the Welsh will rise also. And this I have well contrived, and Morgan has fully covenanted with me to that effect.”

It seems Turberville was duped: accounts in the British Library show that Morgan was on the English king’s payroll as a spy and agent provocateur. He may have been employed in this role for decades. Morgan was among the last of Dafydd ap Gruffudd’s supporters in 1283, and unlike the rest escaped any form of punishment. In September 1295, after Thomas was arrested and delivered up to Edward’s inquisitors, Morgan again got off scot-free.

The woes of Henry IV

The start of Henry IV of England's malady, unpleasant details taken from Chris Given-Wilson's biography.

In April 1405 the king's health suddenly collapsed. Early on the morning of the 28, he wrote from his lodge in Windsor Great Park that 'an illness has suddenly affected us in our leg'. He was in such pain that his physicians told him not to ride, and a few days later the condition worsened.

According to a medical treatise by John Arderne, Treatise of Fistula in Ano, Henry suffered from a prolapsed rectum. The remedy advocated by Arderne recommended first bleeding the leg before applying an ointment called 'the green ointment of the Twelve Apostles'. The principal ingredients were white wax, pine resin, aristolochia, incense, mastic, opoponax, myrrh, galbanum and litharge. When this was heated and applied to the prolapsed area, 'it schal entre agayn', whereupon it was dressed to prevent it protruding once more. If necessary, the procedure could be repeated several times.

Arderne had died in 1376, shortly after writing his treatise, but a post-1413 translator of the work added in the margin 'With this medicine was King Henry of England cured of the going out of the lure' (prolapsed rectum).

The big man keels over

7 July 1307, the big man turns up his toes.

Edward I of England died at Burgh-by-Sands, a remote and cheerless spot west of Carlisle, on his way to the Scottish border. His end, after fifty years of relentless war and politics, reads like the final act in some Greek tragedy. The king hadn't backed a horse for over a year, and was dragged up to Carlisle in a litter. There his spirits were lifted by the sight of 400 bachelor knights riding past with bundles of spring leaves dripping from their lances. Much 'pleased and merry' by the sight, Edward gave up his litter to God and insisted on leading his army into Scotland on horseback, as he had done so often in the past. Wracked with dysentery or possibly bowel cancer, he covered six excruciating miles in three days. On the 6 he rested. On the morning of the 7, when his servants tried to lift him to take food, Edward gave a loud cry and fell back dead in their arms.

Director of finance

On 7 July (yes I know it's the 6 today, but nothing happened on the 6, so bollocks to the 6) 1298, Edward I was at Redpath on the Scottish border. No doubt that man William Wallace was uppermost in his thoughts, but a king always had other demands on his time. On that day he appointed Robert Clifford to the custody of Nottingham Castle, previously in the keeping of Robert Tibetot or Tiptoft, now deceased.

Edward may have regretted Tibetot's unavoidable absence from the Falkirk campaign. He was a useful soldier who almost single-handedly paid for the king's war in West Wales in 1282 out of his own pocket. Less usefully, he later aggravated a personal feud with Rhys ap Maredudd, lord of Ystrad Tywi, which resulted in Rhys's downfall and the end of the ancient House of Dinefwr. Edward himself did his best to prevent the feud, so the final conquest of Cantref Mawr was more or less the consequence of a private disagreement between two aristocrats.

In 1294 Tibetot was packed off to Gascony, where he did sterling work as 'director of finance' and killed lots of Frenchmen. He also sealed a useful marriage alliance for his son with the daughter of a rich nobleman of Bayonne. He died shortly after his return to Wales in 1297.

Big Phil

The armour worn by Philip IV at the Battle of Mons-en-Pévèle in 1304. Looks a bit later 14th century to me, but I'm guessing kings got all the best stuff before anyone else.

Ah, Big Phil. Stole Gascony and Ponthieu from the English, stole Flanders from the Flemish, twice expelled the Jews after seizing their assets, gutted his Italian creditors and then threw them out of France, had the Knights Templar tortured to death on false charges of heresy and sodomy, had his men assault the pope, tortured men and women in public, exploited and abandoned his Scottish allies, debased the French currency, and had a good old laugh about it all. Quite a good medieval king, as medieval kings went.

To deal with the devil

Part of transcript of a meeting between Pope Boniface VIII and the envoys of Edward I at the Curia, August 1300.

The meeting was part of the complex negotiations over Edward’s duchy of Gascony, invaded and partially conquered by the French in 1294. After three years of fighting both sides agreed to lay their claims before the pope. Boniface informed the English that he favoured their claim, and that Philip was guilty of wrongfully detaining the duchy. However, he could not give an award in Edward’s favour, because the French would simply ignore it:

“We cannot give you an award. If we pronounced in your favour the French would not hold to it, and could not be compelled, for they would make light of any penalty. We have, however, a hold over their king by reason of his wrongful detention of the land.”

Boniface also remarked that ‘to deal with the French is to deal with the Devil’. At about the same time he fired off an angry letter to Edward, asking the king to whom he expected to answer on the Day of Judgement, if he continued to regard Scotland as his fief? The pope thus favoured Edward’s case for Gascony but frowned on his case for Scotland. An impartial witness might say Boniface was correct on both counts, but this was politics.