Henry II

Henry II History of Warfare Editor Kelly DeVries Loyola College Founding editors Theresa Vann Paul Chevedden VOLUM...

Author: John D. Hosler

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Henry II

History of Warfare Editor

Kelly DeVries Loyola College Founding editors

Theresa Vann Paul Chevedden

VOLUME 44

Henry II A Medieval Soldier at War, 1147–1189

by

John D. Hosler Assistant Professor at Morgan State University

LEIDEN • BOSTON 2007

On the cover: [Upper part of folio] King Henry II seated on the throne, arguing with Thomas Becket. Author: Peter de Langtoft, Chronicle of England, f.7v (England; circa 1307–1327). © The British Library, BL ref. Royal 20 A. II, record no. c2205–06 This book is printed on acid-free paper. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A C.I.P. record is available from the Library of Congress.

ISSN 1385-7827 ISBN 978 90 04 15724 8 © Copyright 2007 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Hotei Publishing, IDC Publishers, Martinus Nijhoﬀ Publishers and VSP. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Brill provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. printed in the netherlands

CONTENTS List of Maps .............................................................................. Preface ........................................................................................ List of Abbreviations ..................................................................

vii ix xi

Introduction ................................................................................

1

Chapter One Historiography .................................................. Nature of the Military Evidence .......................................... Chronicle Sources .................................................................. Record Sources ...................................................................... Literary Sources ....................................................................

9 11 14 31 33

Chapter Two Henry’s Political and Military Career .......... Scotland and Wales .............................................................. The Continent ........................................................................ The Conquest of Ireland ...................................................... The End of Louis VII .......................................................... The Death of Henry the Younger ...................................... The Wars against Philip Augustus ...................................... The End of the Reign ..........................................................

37 51 56 66 76 82 88 98

Chapter Three Military Organization .................................. The Question of Obligation .................................................. The Matter of the Fyrd ........................................................ Mercenaries ............................................................................

103 104 113 119

Chapter Four Strategy Tactics, Logistics .............................. High Medieval Strategy and Henry II ................................ Battle as Strategy .................................................................. Vegetian-Style Campaigns .................................................... Transport and Logistics ........................................................

125 125 130 148 157

Chapter Five Castles and Siege Warfare .............................. Fortress Construction ............................................................ Castle Strategies ....................................................................

171 171 176

vi

contents Siege Warfare ........................................................................ Castles and Henry II: the 1160s ..........................................

182 188

Chapter Six The Great Revolt, 1173–1174 .......................... Main Rebel Attacks .............................................................. Henry II’s Responses ............................................................ The Second Year .................................................................. Endgame: the Great Revolt Fails ........................................

195 199 206 211 215

Chapter Seven Conclusion: Henry the Soldier ....................

221

Appendix 1: Henry Plantagenet’s Military Campaigns .......... Appendix 2: Laudabiliter .............................................................. Maps ............................................................................................

233 237 240

Bibliography ................................................................................ Index ..........................................................................................

245 263

LIST OF MAPS 1 Major Districts of England .................................................. 2 France and its Neighbors .................................................... 3 Henry II’s Continental Sieges, 1166–1168 ........................ 4 Major Engagements during the Great Revolt ..................

240 241 242 243

PREFACE The idea for this book arose in August 2001 while driving the thousand-odd miles from Iowa State University to the University of Delaware, my newly acquired doctoral program. In Ames, I had been steadily guided in historical research by Professor Kenneth Madison, who led my ﬁrst graduate research seminar and introduced me to scholarly historical writing, the academy, and the International Congress on Medieval Studies at Western Michigan University. After arriving in Newark, Delaware, I proposed a dissertation topic to my new advisor Professor Daniel Callahan: eyebrows were raised, we hemmed and hawed, and in the end, he graciously approved. The product of the resulting labor of six years now sits before you. All of my work has beneﬁted from encouragement and guidance generously given by others. Susan Yager and Ken Madison, my former advisors at Iowa State University, have remained faithfully supportive of my educational and professional development. Additional thanks go out to my former graduate classmates, including the erudite Edward Cox and Alex Pavuk, the reader of my preliminary dissertation materials. The ﬁne support of my committee at Delaware, Professors Callahan, Lawrence Duggan, and John Montaño, conﬁrmed my suspicion that coming east was the right career move. I am certain they would join me in thanking Patricia Orendorf for her limitless support on my behalf. I am also fortunate to have met the helpful and collegial members of De re militari, especially Professors Richard Abels, Charles Bowlus, John France, Cliﬀord Rogers, Steven Isaac, and Stephen Morillo. For his kicking open of endless professional doors, I give particular thanks to Kelly DeVries, the editor of this series. Finally, I would like to thank my wife Holly, who sweetly tolerates my endless rants about medieval history, the inaccuracy of Hollywood ﬁlms, and the continuing death of the past.

LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS AHR ANS

American Historical Review. Anglo-Norman Studies (formerly Proceedings of the Battle Conference on Anglo-Norman Studies), eds. R. A. Brown (vols. 1–11), M. Chibnall (vols. 12–16), C. Harper-Bill (vols. 17–22), J. Gillingham (vols. 23–27), and C. P. Lewis (vol. 28). ANW Anglo-Norman Warfare, ed. M. Strickland (Woodbridge, 1992). ASC The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles, ed. and trans. M. Swanton (London, 2000). Chronica Chronica Magistri Rogeri de Houedene, ed. W. Stubbs, 4 vols. (RS 51, 1868–71). Descriptio Descriptio Kambriæ, ed. J. F. Dimock, in Giraldi Cambrensis Opera, 8 vols. (RS 21, 1868), VI. EHD English Historical Documents, II: 1042–1189, eds. D. C. Douglas and G. W. Greenaway (London, 1953). EHR English Historical Review. Expugnatio Expugnatio Hibernica, ed. J. F. Dimock, in Giraldi Cambrensis Opera, 8 vols. (RS 21, 1867), V. Fantosme Jordan Fantosme’s Chronicle, ed. R. C. Johnston (Oxford, 1981). Gervase The Chronicle of the Reigns of Stephen, Henry II, and Richard I, by Gervase, the Monk of Canterbury, ed. W. Stubbs, 2 vols. (RS 73, 1879–1880). Gesta Regis Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi Benedicti Abbatis, The Chronicle of the Reigns of Henry II and Richard I, known commonly under the name of Benedict of Peterborough, ed. W. Stubbs, 2 vols. (RS 49, 1867). Hergest Brut y Tywysogyon or the Chronicle of the Princes: Red Book of Hergest Version, ed. T. Jones (Cardiﬀ, 1955). HSJ Haskins Society Journal: Studies in Medieval History. Itinerarium Itinerarium Kambriæ, ed. J. F. Dimock, in Giraldi Cambrensis Opera, 8 vols. (RS 21, 1868), VI. JMH Journal of Medieval History. JMMH Journal of Medieval Military History. Mats. Materials for the History of Thomas Becket, eds. J. C. Robertson and J. B. Sheppard, 7 vols. (RS 67, 1875–1885).

xii Peniarth PR Regesta Regis

RS Torigini

list of abbreviations Brut y Tywysogyon or the Chronicle of the Princes: Peniarth MS. 20 Version, ed. T. Jones (Cardiﬀ, 1952). Publications of the Pipe Roll Society, 38 vols. (Reprint, Vaduz, 1966). Regesta Regis Stephani ac Mathildis Imperatricis ac Gaufridi et Henrici Ducum Normannorum, 1135–1154, eds. H. A. Cronne and R. H. C. Davis, in Regesta Regum Anglo-Normannorum, 1066–1154, 4 vols. (Oxford, 1913–1969), III. Rolls Series (London, 1858–1896). The Chronicle of Robert of Torigini, ed. R. Howlett, in Chronicles of The Reigns of Stephen, Henry II, and Richard I, 4 vols. (RS 82, 1889), IV.

INTRODUCTION Anglo-Norman England has long been a fertile subject for the study of medieval military history. Its preeminence is due in large measure to the events of 14 October 1066, during which William, duke of Normandy, wrested control of England away from Harold Godwinson at the Battle of Hastings. The result was a wave of changes that permanently altered the land of the Anglo-Saxons. Many of these changes directly inﬂuenced the methods by which the English crown conducted warfare, including the advent of a baronage and the importation of a feudal system of military obligation, both introduced after William’s coronation on Christmas 1066. William brought a policy of conquest and domination to England that deﬁed comparison to the former Anglo-Saxon kingdoms. The Old English kings fought primarily defensive battles to preserve the Heptarchy against Viking and Danish expansion from the ninth to the eleventh century. In these endeavors the Saxons were only partially successful; the strong West Saxon-Kentish state built by Alfred (879–899) grew to include lands in the uncertain regions of Northumbria and Mercia, but the advent of the Danelaw and the return of Viking invasions in the late tenth century eroded the stability of the country. By the eleventh century Edward the Confessor (1042–1066) and his earls were struggling to maintain England’s borders in the rebellious west and north. In the years after Hastings, William solidiﬁed his reign through military operations such as the 1070 ‘harrying of the north’ with the Scots, as well as diplomatic moves that gained him the fealty of Welsh princes in 1081. Furthermore, because William retained his ducal rights to Normandy, under his rule England’s interests were formally linked to the Continent. Following his death in 1087, the Anglo-Norman royal line would mirror the hereditary success of the French Capetians, and until the deposition of Richard II on 29 September 1399 England’s crown enjoyed, with only one exception,1

1 This was the reign of Stephen of Blois, the nephew of Henry I (1100–1135), who ruled during the ‘anarchy’ in which he struggled with Henry I’s daughter and co-claimant Matilda; her son, Henry ﬁtz Empress, gained the crown in 1154 and restored the original line of succession, albeit through a female. There were also

2

introduction

direct familial succession through its Anglo-Norman, Angevin, and Plantagenet kings. These and other achievements followed the Norman conquest of England. William the Conqueror’s victory at Hastings has captured the imaginations of student and soldier alike, for it was one out of a relatively small number of major, decisive battles fought during the Middle Ages. Harold’s defeat meant the loss of life and crown as well as the transfer of England to an already-powerful duke, and few moments in history were encapsulated in the course of such a singular event. William’s career in Normandy and Brittany before 1066 set the stage for England’s entrance into the context of continental warfare. The ﬁrst proper encounter between the Anglo-Saxon infantry and the Norman bowmen and cavalry in 1066 has likewise been regarded as a case study for the conduct of eleventh-century warfare, and the tactics applied at Hastings have been the foci of Anglo-Norman military study for decades. William’s disputes with the Capetians and other local rulers in Brittany, Maine, and Normandy did not disappear after his coronation; king or not, he was still legally a vassal of Philip I of France (1060–1108), so the governance of these other provinces remained points of contention.2 Yet the English crown oﬀered resources enough for William to improve his military footing and retain his holdings in Europe, and for the ﬁrst time England became directly involved in continental politics. William’s sons William Rufus (1087–1100) and Henry I both intervened in continental lands with varying degrees of success, but the military nature of those struggles departed signiﬁcantly from the decisive Battle of Hastings. Instead, long campaigns were settled bloodlessly in treaties, pitched battles were forsaken in favor of land-scourging tactics, and castles replaced armies as the eﬀective measure of territorial control.3 These changes and others have encouraged the historical study of warfare during the remainder of the Anglo-Norman period and beyond. The present study addresses a portion of this timeframe

succession disputes between William Rufus and his brother Robert Curthose (1087), Robert and his other brother Henry I (1100), and between John and Arthur of Brittany (1199). 2 For his warfare pre-1066, see D. C. Douglas, William the Conqueror (Berkeley, 1964), 133–55; and J. Gillingham, “William the Bastard at War,” in ANW, 143–60. 3 S. Morillo, Warfare under the Anglo-Norman Kings, 1066–1135 (Woodbridge, 1994), 1–2.

introduction

3

referred to as the Angevin period of English history, which is traced loosely from the coronation of Henry II in 1154 to the death of King John in 1216. The transition from Anglo-Norman to Angevin is something of a misnomer. King Stephen, the grandson of William the Conqueror through his mother Adela, died in 1154 and was succeeded by Henry ﬁtz Empress, the grandson of Stephen’s predecessor Henry I (and thus great-grandson of William). Both kings were Norman through their mothers’ side, not their fathers’: Stephen’s father was the reluctant crusader Stephen, count of Blois (d. 1102), and Henry’s father was Geoﬀrey le Bel, count of Anjou and duke of Normandy (d. 1151). From the beginning Henry ﬁtz Empress was groomed for the chores of governance and battle that surely lay in his future. The death of Henry I’s only legitimate son William Adelin in the White Ship disaster of 1120 prompted the king to accept a baronial oath in 1126 to the eﬀect that, should his daughter Matilda (d. 1167) ever bear a son, they would pledge their commitment to that boy’s future, legitimate kingship.4 Fully expecting that her son would one day reign as king, Matilda gave birth to the young Henry in 1133 and procured for him an education beﬁtting a future monarch. Henry’s schooling was never intended to be comprehensive, as a noble had little need for advanced education, and his instruction was therefore to be broad in scope but shallow in content. Before the age of seven the boy probably listened to epic stories such as Beowulf in his mother’s household. Such stories oﬀered excellent models of bravery, loyalty, and eloquence and were commonly used in the instruction of the nobilitas. After seven he received basic instruction in letters and the basics of knighthood in his father’s household in Angers, as was the custom in the twelfth century.5 Henry’s ﬁrst proper lessons were grammatical in nature, and his teacher Peter of Saintes may have been a sort of freelance instructor.6 From Peter he learned

4

Gesta Stephani, 10–13. M. Chibnall, The Empress Matilda: Queen Consort, Queen Mother, and Lady of the English (Oxford, 1991), 144; N. Orme, From Childhood to Chivalry: the Education of the English Kings and Aristocracy 1066–1530 (London, 1984), 182. Knighthood training consisted of riding, hunting, swimming, ﬁghting, and other skills; F. B. Artz, The Mind of the Middle Ages (Reprint, Chicago, 1980), 311. 6 As proposed by R. W. Southern, The Making of the Middle Ages (Reprint, New Haven, 1973), 196; see also S. Reynolds, Medieval Reading: Grammar, Rhetoric, and the Classical Text (Cambridge, 1996), 61; and R. V. Turner, “The Miles Literatus in 5

4

introduction

the rudiments of Latin and French, two languages in which he became proﬁcient.7 His tutelage under Peter ended before the age of nine in the waning days of 1142. Matilda’s plans for her son were initially thwarted in 1135 when her father Henry I died suddenly after feasting on a plate of lampreys. Forgetting their 1126 oaths, the barons supported the coronation of Stephen, count of Blois, who claimed lineage through his mother Adela, the sister of the late king.8 England itself was split territorially as magnates chose the side seen as most beneﬁcial to their own interests: The empress, or rather her protector the earl of Gloucester, held sway over a belt of territory in the west which varied greatly in extent from time to time, but of which the nucleus was formed by Somerset, Gloucestershire, the modern Monmouthshire, Herefordshire, and occasionally Worcestershire. Stephen ruled over a district which was roughly bounded, on the west by the Hampshire Avon and the Cotswolds, on the north and north-east by the Welland, the fens in the lower valley of the Ouse, and the river Waveney . . . But to the very end of the reign the territories of the rival factions interlaced and overlapped.9

The dispute over the succession transformed into outright civil war, sometimes called ‘the anarchy of Stephen’s reign’. In 1142 the young Henry actually traveled from Anjou to England with his uncle Robert, earl of Gloucester (d. 1147), a bastard child of the late Henry I, half-brother of Matilda, and an ally of the Angevin cause in the civil war.10 In the twelfth century noblemen such as Geoﬀrey of Anjou customarily turned their sons’ education over to a friendly and suitable lord, and in this regard Robert of Gloucester was an excellent choice.11 The earl was the most powerful noble in England after

Twelfth- and Thirteenth-Century England: How Rare a Phenomenon?” AHR 83 (1978): 943. 7 Walter Map, De Nugis Curialium: Courtier’s Triﬂes, eds. M. R. James, C. N. L. Brooke, and R. A. B. Mynors (Oxford, 1983), 476–7. Henry would later add Italian to his repertoire. 8 For a recent synopsis of the lineage dispute, see C. W. Hollister, Henry I (New Haven, 2002), 308–13. 9 H. W. C. Davis, “The Anarchy of Stephen’s Reign,” EHR 18 (1903): 631–2. Use of the term “anarchy” has recently been questioned in J. Bradbury, Stephen and Matilda: the Civil War of 1139–53 (Stroud, 1996), 191–3. 10 Torigini, 139. 11 S. Painter, William Marshal: Knight-Errant, Baron, and Regent of England (Reprint, Toronto, 1997), 16.

introduction

5

King Stephen, possessing several strong castles in the western counties as well as some territory on the Welsh March; moreover, Robert himself was well-educated and chose to school his own son Roger alongside Henry at Bristol.12 The boys were ﬁrst drilled in grammar by Master Matthew, an obscure ﬁgure who may have later served as chancellor to Eleanor of Aquitaine.13 Henry’s second teacher at Bristol was Adelard of Bath (1080–1149), a former teacher at the court of Henry I and an astronomer who learned Arabic letters and mathematics in Greece and further east.14 Adelard instructed Henry in mathematics, astronomy, and perhaps a smattering of natural philosophy. 1142 was a tumultuous year for the Angevin forces. In September Matilda found herself besieged within Oxford Castle by Stephen’s army and only escaped by ﬂeeing through a small window at night; shortly thereafter, Oxford fell to Stephen’s army.15 This might have been a fatal blow to the rebellion had not Gloucester arrived by the end of the year with his nephew Henry and an Angevin army in tow. The mere presence of Henry was symbolic and powerful, for his promised succession was a central reason for the war. But at such a young age Henry was hardly expected to join in the ﬁghting, and sometime after 20 January 1144 Henry returned to the Continent, where his father Geoﬀrey had been waging a successful military campaign in Normandy.16 On the whole Geoﬀrey was a strong and successful leader and a good role model for his son to follow, and on 23 April Geoﬀrey was invested duke at Rouen.17 Henry continued 12 H. G. Richardson and G. O. Sayles, The Governance of Mediaeval England from Conquest to Magna Carta (Edinburgh, 1963), 273. 13 Matthew is present in two charters, Regesta Regis, nos. 329 and 331; see also H. G. Richardson, “The Letters and Charters of Eleanor of Aquitaine,” EHR 74 (1959): 194; and N. Orme, Education and Society in Medieval and Renaissance England (London, 1989), 51. 14 R. L. Poole, The Exchequer in the Twelfth Century (Oxford, 1912), 52–3; Hollister, Henry I, 2; C. H. Haskins, “Adelard of Bath and Henry Plantagenet,” EHR 28 (1913): 516. 15 For the siege of Oxford, see Gesta Stephani, 71; Henry of Huntingdon, Historia Anglorum, ed. and trans. D. Greenway (Oxford, 1996), IV: 20; and William of Malmesbury, Historia Novella, ed. E. King (Oxford, 1998), 75. 16 A. L. Poole, “Henry Plantagenet’s Early Visits to England,” EHR 47 (1932): 450–1. Poole allows for a timeframe of up to 25 March 1144 for Henry’s departure; given that Robert of Torigini makes no mention of Henry at the siege of Rouen in January and February (an aberration in his customary attention to detail), I suspect Henry arrived in February or March; see Torigini, 147–8. 17 J. Bradbury, “Geoﬀrey V of Anjou, Count and Knight,” in The Ideals and

6

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his education there with the celebrated scholar William of Conches, a former teacher of John of Salisbury.18 Their relationship must have been a good one, for William dedicated his book Dragmaticon to Duke Geoﬀrey and may have dedicated De honesto et utili to the young Henry as well. His instruction under William lasted for three years initially, with a short break in 1147. It was during Henry’s short leave of absence from his studies in 1147 that he engaged in his ﬁrst proper military adventure. The Gesta Stephani relates that Henry hired a troupe of knights and embarked upon an invasion of England, promising his men payment from the booty he expected to seize. Rumors ﬂew that the young Angevin actually marched at the head of a force several thousand strong. Stephen and his men were easily able to defeat the small band at various locales including Crickdale. With a lack of booty hunger set in, and Henry was soon deserted by his mercenaries. His mother Matilda was unable to help him because of her own desperate straits, and his uncle Robert of Gloucester chose not to, so Henry was at length forced to appeal to the charity of Stephen himself. The king, “full of pity and compassion,” sent Henry the money he needed to return home. This was certainly an ignominious beginning of what would eventually become a ﬁne military career.19 This study concerns itself with Henry’s military career between 1147 and 1189, the year of his death. My goal in the book is to provide a comprehensive, though not exhaustive, examination of the diﬀerent facets of Henry II’s military experiences. The ﬁrst chapter, inspired by C. Warren Hollister’s ﬁne precedent in his posthumous biography Henry I, surveys the medieval evidence in detail.20 Chapter Two sketches a short narrative of his military and political exploits and problems. Chapters Three, Four, and Five examine the structure of his armies and the nature of his various military operations, while Chapter Six concentrates upon the military aspect of the Great

Practice of Medieval Knighthood III: Papers from the Fourth Strawberry Hill Conference, 1988, eds. C. Harper-Bill and R. Harvey (Woodbridge, 1990), 25–9. 18 Chibnall, Empress Matilda, 144. On William of Conches, see C. H. Haskins, The Rise of the Universities (Reprint, Ithaca, 1957), 41; and H. O. Taylor, The Mediaeval Mind: a History of the Development of Thought and Emotion in the Middle Ages, 2 vols. (London, 1938), II: 402–3. 19 Gesta Stephani, 206–209; Poole, “Early Visits to England,” 447–52. 20 Hollister, Henry I, 1–29.

introduction

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Revolt of 1173 and 1174. The concluding chapter then seeks to construct from these fresh analyses a fuller legacy of Henry, not only as a general but as a soldier of war. I like to think that Henry’s record speaks for itself, so I have tried to provide extensive documentation at every step. Whether or not his name stands along those of the greatest medieval generals is immaterial—I believe that in the ﬁnal analysis he can be viewed as a sound and versatile commander who enjoyed massive success and suﬀered few setbacks. In any case, whatever our individual opinions, I think all can agree that his warfare is more than worthy of an extended inquiry.

CHAPTER ONE

HISTORIOGRAPHY Given the length and breadth of Henry II’s military career, one might expect that the subject would be a focal point for historical inquiry. In fact, it has been understudied and there is a relative scarcity of scholarly work on the warfare of his reign. Such has not been the case with other Anglo-Norman and Angevin monarchs, tangibly evidenced by books such as Jim Bradbury’s Stephen and Matilda: the Civil War of 1139–53, a military history of the anarchy, and John Gillingham’s Richard I, a text that concentrates heavily upon that king’s aﬀairs in war. Though biographies of Henry abound, they rarely concentrate on his military campaigns outside their political ramiﬁcations, meaning that such issues as generalship, use of battle and siege tactics, or overall strategic plans are often glossed over or generalized.1 Apart from the biographies, there are in fact no booklength studies of Henry II’s military enterprises comparable to the works of Bradbury and Gillingham. Only two books have systematically studied Henry’s warfare, and both are limited in their objectives. John Beeler’s Warfare in England, 1066–1189 devotes 70 out of 300 pages exclusively to Henry’s campaigns in England, Scotland, and Wales and are of unquestionable value on the subjects of fortiﬁcations, military organization, and the development of battle tactics. As its title implies, however, there is no discussion of Henry’s warfare on the Continent. Beeler rarely digresses into scholarly debates over the details of particular conﬂicts, nor does he spend much time assessing the larger political implications of Henry’s campaigns. Michael Jones’ War of the Generations: the Revolt of 1173–74 centers on the middle portion of Henry’s reign, when his sons allied with Louis VII of France (1137–1180) and William the Lion of Scotland (1165– 1214) in a general uprising that lasted two years. This book is an

1 J. Gillingham, Richard I (New Haven, 1999). The best biographies on Henry II are W. L. Warren, Henry II (Berkeley, 1973), and R. Barber, Henry Plantagenet: a Biography (London, 1964), both of which largely supersede other texts listed in the bibliography.

10

chapter one

eﬀective but predominantly political survey, not a military history; moreover, Jones at times sacriﬁces a systematic interrogation of his sources in order to construct a readable plotline.2 Aside from these two books, there are many other notable studies on Anglo-Norman and Angevin warfare that are of great value. Stephen Morillo’s Warfare under the Anglo-Norman Kings, 1066–1135 compares the warfare of William the Conqueror, William Rufus (1087–1100), and Henry I, but ends with the latter’s death. Michael Prestwich’s Armies and Warfare in the Middle Ages: the English Experience ranges further and comments on the whole of English history from Alfred the Great through the Wars of the Roses. His approach to English warfare follows topical, not chronological, lines and addresses such subjects as chivalry, naval combat, and siege techniques. This is undoubtedly useful, but the methodology employs wide-ranging examples and does not oﬀer a coherent picture of any one general or period. In a similar vein follow Matthew Strickland’s War and Chivalry: the Conduct and Perception of War in England and Normandy, 1066–1217 and John France’s Western Warfare in the Age of the Crusades, 1100–1300. Both texts discuss a period which is immediately useful for the study of Henry II, especially Strickland’s because it addressed methods and mentalities of the mounted knights in the Angevin realms in particular. France considers the physical facets of Western warfare such as infantry, fortiﬁcations, and technology, as well as developments in tactics and a short look at those components in the Latin East. It will be noticed that neither of these books centers solely on our subject at hand, but oﬀers instead valuable information regarding the diﬀerent aspects of twelfth-century warfare.3 The remainder of essential secondary reading on Henry II’s military aﬀairs appears in scholarly journals and is of a goodly number, but considering his long reign and the nature of military developments under his rule, they are only partially suﬃcient and hold not even a candle to the sheer mass of

2 J. Beeler, Warfare in England, 1066–1189 (Ithaca, 1966); M. Jones, War of the Generations: the Revolt of 1173–74 (Ann Arbor, 1980). 3 M. Prestwich, Armies and Warfare in the Middle Ages: the English Experience (New Haven, 1996); M. Strickland, War and Chivalry: the Conduct and Perception of War in England and Normandy, 106–1217 (Cambridge, 1996); J. France, Western Warfare in the Age of the Crusades (Ithaca, 1999). For an overview of these, see Anne Curry’s review article, “Medieval Warfare. England and her Continental Neighbors, Eleventh to the Fourteenth Centuries,” JMH 24 (1998): 81–102.

historiography

11

research conducted on his person, relations with the Church, or his methods of governance. Following John Gillingham’s recent call for studies of whole military careers, an examination of Henry II’s story has much to oﬀer our historical knowledge of both the king himself and medieval warfare in a greater context.4 Nature of the Military Evidence One problem perhaps lies in the fact that information regarding Henry II’s political and religious aﬀairs is much more accessible than that on his warfare. More than one historian has pointed to his reign as the pinnacle of English historical writing in the Middle Ages, but these authors rarely couch such statements in military terms. Take, for example, W. L. Warren’s remark, “the material for Henry II in particular is so copious and from such varied sources, including some of the highest quality, that he can be seen in the round as a living, ﬂesh-and-blood ﬁgure.”5 In a strictly biographical sense Warren is correct, and these sources are of great value for subjects of an ecclesiastical or political nature. Warren’s comments are not, however, applicable to the history of warfare during Henry’s reign; rather, much of the evidence from Henry’s reign has nothing to do with the conduct of military aﬀairs. At its core, the problem of twelfth-century evidence is one of content, not supply: we have a lot of evidence that unhappily neglects the details required by military historians. Although interesting accounts of warfare from such writers as Froissart and Joinville are available for the later Middle Ages, there are few comparable texts for the Anglo-Norman period (excepting the detailed accounts of Hastings) and even fewer for the Angevin era. Surviving materials typically oﬀer cursory accounts about the initiation of a hostile confrontation and then its outcome. Those accounts that do describe the actual progress of a battle are highly prized and tend to dictate the focus of historical study—the detailed battles are the ones examined in articles and book chapters. Many conﬂicts are so

4 J. Gillingham, “‘Up with Orthodoxy!’ In Defense of Vegetian Warfare,” JMMH 2 (2004): 150. 5 W. L. Warren, King John (Reprint, New Haven, 1997), 5. For another enduring aﬃrmation, see C. H. Haskins, The Renaissance of the Twelfth Century (Cambridge, 1927), 224.

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vaguely depicted that we are at a loss to discern even their geographical location. In 2004 Helen Nicholson repeated a familiar criticism by wondering if the writers could even understand military terminology, much less battle tactics, at all.6 This vagueness is exempliﬁed by the only passage in the Peterborough manuscript of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle that speaks of Henry II’s military aﬀairs, those he conducted as duke of Normandy in 1153: “Then he [Henry] travelled into England with a great army, and won castles, and the king [Stephen] travelled against him with a much greater army; and nevertheless they did not ﬁght.”7 Here are useful bits of information that are quite lacking in description: we have two armies of varying sizes that did not engage in battle, and while Henry gains castles we remain ignorant of the where, why, and how. To supplement these two points we are fortunate to possess the chronicle Gesta Stephani, which, detailing the same events, notes: So the duke [Henry], collecting his forces, and with the barons ﬂocking in eagerly to join him, made without delay for the castle of Malmesbury, which was subject to the king, and when a crowd of common people ﬂew to the wall surrounding the town as though to defend it he ordered the infantry, men of the greatest cruelty, whom he had brought with him, some to assail the defenders with arrows and missiles, others to devote all their eﬀorts to demolishing the wall. So when the town of Malmesbury, as has been indicated, was captured [. . .] behold, not long afterwards, the king [Stephen] arrived with a countless army collected from all his supporters everywhere, as though he meant to ﬁght a pitched battle with the duke, and as the armies of both sides stood in array with a river dividing them it was arranged between them and carefully settled that they should demolish the castle, both because they could not join battle on account of the river and its very deep valley intervening and because it was a bitter winter with a severe famine in those parts.8

Much of the vagueness has now been dispelled and several avenues for inquiries of a military nature are opened. But the Gesta Stephani is one of only a handful of such descriptive narratives.

6 H. Nicholson, Medieval Warfare: Theory and Practice of War in Europe, 300–1500 (New York, 2004), 8. 7 ASC [E], 268. 8 Gesta Stephani, 230–33.

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Detailed corroboration in the written record is, despite the volume of historical materials that has survived, decidedly uncommon and even exceptional for Henry II’s reign as king of the English. This problem is noticeably acute in the accounts of authors who began writing in the years following King Stephen’s death in 1154. Henry emphasized economic and legal initiatives, so chroniclers responded by ﬁlling their books with transcripts of papal letters, law codes, and discussions of political relations between the rulers and nobles. The authors themselves were cloistered monks or stationary clerks who obtained their evidence from interviews, chance stories, or borrowed materials from other locales. Such geographical isolation stymied the ﬂow of knowledge onto the written page, as Robert of Torigini aptly illustrates in his entry for the year 1168: “Besides these his exploits the king of England did many things in this war of which we have not been informed, or if we have heard of them we have forgotten them.”9 Those writers living outside of monastic settings, identiﬁed by Antonia Gransden as the “secular historians,” are sometimes more reliable, but with rare exceptions their accounts diﬀer little in descriptiveness.10 Secular writers were, after all, still ecclesiastics—Henry of Huntingdon, for example, was an archdeacon, and Ralph Diceto was the dean of St. Paul’s—and so tended to address subjects relevant to their churches. In addition, while warfare could be important enough for posterity, the motivation to compose in the ﬁrst place was usually devotional; as Ernst Breisach notes, “the recording of secular events was ultimately useless if it did not concentrate above all on demonstrating God’s grace and will, which alone are not transitory.”11 Therefore, when Bernard Bachrach speaks of “the illinformed comments of monkish chroniclers” as barriers to precise understandings of medieval warfare, he is referring to problems of perspective as well as evidence.12 Such diﬃculties hamper the military

9 Torigini, 239. Moreover, there is a general lack of good information for Normandy during the early year’s of Henry II’s reign; see the old but still poignant C. H. Haskins, “The Government of Normandy under Henry II,” AHR 20 (1914): 25–31. 10 See A. Gransden, Historical Writing in England c. 550 to c. 1307 (Ithaca, 1974), 219–68, for two chapters on the historians of Henry II’s reign. 11 E. Breisach, Historiography: Ancient, Medieval, & Modern, 2nd ed. (Chicago, 1994), 131. 12 B. Bachrach, “Medieval Military Historiography,” in Companion to Historiography, ed. M. Bentley (London, 1997), 211.

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study of Henry II’s reign at every turn and are applicable, in addition to the Latin chronicles, to Irish, Scottish, Welsh, and AngloFrench histories. Yet this does not mean that chronicle accounts of warfare are wholly untrustworthy, only that they should be treated with care. There are, as Kelly DeVries points out, numerous historiographical factors to consider, including the location of the chronicler himself, his audience, nationality, vocation, education, and agenda, but such analysis is worthwhile because it can allow historians to recreate and explain military events from even the most extraordinary or hard-to-believe narrative sources.13 Chronicle Sources In 1878 William Stubbs delivered a delightful lecture at Oxford in which he depicted a visitor to twelfth-century England. Wandering around, the man could not help but notice authors hard at work— a virtual “paradise of clerks” across the countryside in towns both large and small.14 While the story is idealistic, Stubbs’ general point seems on target. Along with manuscripts that are recognizable as histories has survived a vast array of literary and documentary texts, and taken together they suggest a leap forward in composition across the Angevin Empire. The learning was communal because individual scholars traveled to other schools or monasteries and often shared materials by sending entire books cross-country. As a result, many chronicles contain transcribed stories from one another and their accounts must be untangled, often a diﬃcult process. Noting the locations of each author and their respective times of composition is therefore quite useful for clarity’s sake. For the early years of Henry II’s life we posses only a few narrative accounts, none of which addresses him as its central subject. These are the chronicles from the reign of Stephen that end in or before 1154 and thus include the years in which Henry Plantagenet became involved in military aﬀairs in England while a young man. There are several

13 K. DeVries, “The Use of Chronicles in Recreating Medieval Military History,” JMMH 2 (2004): 1–15, esp. 15. 14 W. Stubbs, “Learning and Literature at the Court of Henry II ( June 13, 1878),” in Seventeen Lectures on the Study of Medieval and Modern History (Oxford, 1886), 145–50.

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accounts of Stephen’s reign that include Henry’s early years: the anonymous Gesta Stephani, the ﬁnal entries in the Peterborough manuscript, and the chronicles of John of Hexham, John of Worcester, Henry of Huntingdon, and Robert of Torigini. Of these, only Torigini continues his history past Henry II’s coronation in 1154. Many excellent historiographical discussions of these works preclude our being detained by such examination here; instead, our focus concentrates on how such evidence from Stephen’s reign characterizes warfare.15 Superior in reputation and quality among these varied sources is the Gesta Stephani, whose author, after centuries of anonymity, was identiﬁed as Robert, bishop of Bath (d. 1166), by R. H. C. Davis. Of the useful and detailed military accounts in the Gesta Stephani we have already spoken. Its historical reputation is based largely on its uniqueness, for it is the only history to cover the whole of King Stephen’s reign: William of Malmesbury had died in 1142, Orderic Vitalis in 1141, and John of Worcester in 1140. Henry of Huntingdon’s history though contemporary can hardly be called detailed, while Robert of Torigini’s information was conﬁned in the main to Normandy, and John of Hexham’s to the extreme north of England. Almost all the information in the newly discovered portion of the GS [Gesta Stephani] (1148–54) is new.16

The ﬁrst three men cited by Davis were all dead by the time young Henry Plantagenet was nine years of age. Along with the Gesta Stephani, Henry of Huntingdon’s Historia Anglorum might be called the next best in a military sense. The tenth book of the Historia Anglorum, and Huntingdon’s sixth overall version, was begun in 1149 and concludes in 1154 at the coronation of Henry II.17 From 1135 onward Huntingdon ceased to rely upon other chronicles for his information and applied data of his own choosing; for Henry Plantagenet’s ducal years of 1149–1154, therefore, the Historia Anglorum is a contemporary, original, and valuable account. Henry’s attentiveness to the details of warfare has been acknowledged, and he is known for his stirring battle orations composed in the tradition of Thucydides.18

15

As an introduction see R. H. C. Davis, King Stephen (Berkeley, 1967), 146–50. Gesta Stephani, xv and xxxviii, for the identiﬁcation of Robert of Bath. For a skeptical view see Gransden, Historical Writing in England, 189–90. 17 It was mostly composed after 1153; see Historia Anglorum, lxxvi. 18 Historia Anglorum, lix–lx. 16

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The monk Robert of Torigini met with Henry of Huntingdon in 1139 at Bec and was already an accomplished writer by that time. His continuation of the deeds of the dukes of Normandy ends during Stephen’s reign but before Henry became a pivotal ﬁgure.19 In his own separate chronicle, however, Torigini was very concerned with continental aﬀairs after 1147. He is thus a good source for Henry II’s warfare in Normandy and Anjou, both before and following his coronation, and even received a personal visit from Henry in 1166 while composing at Mont-St. Michel.20 Although at times brief in his accounts, Torigini was remarkably well-informed on military activities, particularly in the realm of combat and siege tactics. He died in 1186, three years before Henry’s ﬁnal defeat at LeMans.21 John of Hexham’s chronicle, a continuation of the chronicler Symeon of Durham, runs to 1153 and is of some value, but its late date of composition (1162 × 1170) renders it inferior to the contemporary accounts of Torigini, Huntingdon, and the Gesta Stephani.22 The aforementioned Anglo-Saxon Chronicle is far too limited to be usable in a military analysis of our subject. Better information survives for the regnal years of Henry II and includes a variety of continental documents. While anonymity is common in terms of authorship, their provenance is generally well known. Several extant chronicles of note were composed in the county of Anjou or adjacent provinces. The most valuable piece is perhaps the Historia Gaufredi ducis Normannorum, an extant history of the life of his father Geoﬀrey.23 The other Angevin chronicles generally oﬀer brief 19 This continuation is The Gesta Normannorum Ducum of William of Jumièges, Orderic Vitalis, and Robert of Torigini, ed. and trans. E. M. C. Van Houts, 3 vols. (Oxford, 1995), II. On its value, see E. M. C. Van Houts, “Historical Writing,” in A Companion to the Anglo-Norman World, eds. C. Harper-Bill and E. M. C. Van Houts (Woodbridge, 2003), 118–20; Davis, King Stephen, 147. 20 Evidenced by internal references in his chronicle as well as a royal conﬁrmation made to him as abbot of Mont-St. Michel; see Acta of Henry II and Richard I, Part Two, ed. N. Vincent, List & Index Society Special Series, vol. 27 (Richmond, 1996), no. 106. 21 E. M. C. Van Houts, “Le roi et son historien: Henri II Plantagenêt et Robert de Torigini, abbé de Mont-Saint-Michel,” Cahiers de Civilisation Médiévale 37 (1994): 118. See also idem, “Robert of Torigini as Genealogist,” in Studies in Medieval History presented to R. Allen Brown, eds. C. Harper-Bill, C. J. Holdsworth, and J. L. Nelson (Woodbridge, 1989), 215–33, for Torigini’s accuracy regarding the noble families of Normandy and England. 22 See Historia Regum: Eadem Historia ad quantum et vicesimum Annum Continuata, per Joannem Hagulstadensem, ed. T. Arnold, vol. 2 (RS 75, 1885). 23 Historia Gaufredi ducis Normannorum et comitis Andegavorum, eds. L. Halphen and

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accounts that do not contribute much new information, for the bulk of it is concerned with Angevin events well before the rule of Count Henry. For his reign there are bits and pieces that usually relate to his birth and death, reception of titles, and his occasions of warfare. The Chronicon Sancti Sergii Andegavensis departs from this formula a little by recording the Becket Aﬀair, demonstrating how that event was signiﬁcant enough to gain the attention of monks further south.24 Reliable details in the Angevin documents are at a premium, as evidenced by the erroneous attribution of Henry’s coronation to 1155 in a surviving fragment of an anonymous chronicle.25 The longest and most detailed Angevin account of Henry’s reign is the Historia comitum Andegavensium, in which Thomas of Parcé, prior of Loches (and later, John of Marmoutier in a continuation) recorded events up to 1169. This chronicle constituted part of the oﬃcial history of the family of Geoﬀrey le Bel.26 We have at our disposal four other signiﬁcant continental records. The ﬁrst two are the chronicles of the monk Rigord at St. Denis and the canon of Senlis, William the Breton. Both are accounts of Capetian history which suﬀer from a lack of critical analysis and a tentative approach to the successes and failures of the French kings.27 Rigord begins his chronicle in 1165 with the birth of Philip Augustus and thereafter concentrates on the adult years of Philip’s life, 1179–1208. His work was continued by William the Breton in the Gesta Philippi Augusti, which begins by running through Mediterranean history from Troy through the early

R. Puopardin, in Chroniques des comites d’Anjou et des Seigneurs D’Amboise (Paris, 1913), 172–231. 24 Chronicon Sancti Sergii Andegavensis, eds. P. Marchegay and É. Mabille, in Chroniques des Églises d’Anjou (Paris, 1869), 150. Also in Chroniques des Églises d’Anjou are the two accounts Vita beati Girardi monachi Sancti Albini Andegavenis and Breve Chronicon Sancti Florentii Salmurensis, 91–126 and 179–96, respectively. In addition, see Historia Abbreviata consulum Andegavorum, eds. P. Marchegay and A. Salmon, in Chroniques d’Anjou (Paris, 1856), 362–3. 25 Fragment de Chronique Angevine, in Chroniques des comites d’Anjou, 251; the fragment is also found in Chroniques d’Anjou, 367. 26 Chroniques d’Anjou, 338–47. On the chronicle’s historiography see Rodulfus Glaber, The Five Books of the Histories and the Life of St. William, eds. J. France and N. Bulst, trans. J. France and P. Reynolds (Oxford, 1989), cii; and Gransden, Historical Writing in England, 188. 27 R. Fawtier, The Capetian Kings of France: Monarchy and Nation, 987–1328, trans. L. Butler and R. J. Adam (New York, 1960), 3–4. On the other hand, Rigord is trustworthy because he rarely added details for which he did not have personal knowledge; see G. M. Spiegel, “Political Unity in Medieval Historiography: a Sketch,” History and Theory 14 (1975): 318.

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Capetians. Once William stops for breath in his record of 1183 the chronicle becomes somewhat more detailed and useful.28 The ﬁnal chronicles are those of Gilbert of Mons in the north and Geoﬀrey of Vigeois in the south. Gilbert of Mons wrote between 1195 and 1196, and his chronicle largely concerns the northern French province of Hainaut and those French and Norman aﬀairs that aﬀected it, particularly Champagne.29 Geoﬀrey, prior of Vigeois, is our principle source for the history of the Loire valley and events in Aquitaine for the period. Writing at the monastery at St Martial, Geoﬀrey ends his work in 1182.30 In general, we may state with certainty that events north of the Loire are much better-documented in these chronicles, with Poitevin and Aquitanian history often given short shrift.31 The best sources of information for the reign of Henry II are generally understood to be those chronicles composed in England. Some are more local monastic accounts that speak only of the most important political events of the day, such as the Chronicle of Ramsey and the writings of Jocelin of Brakelond at Bury-St. Edmund’s.32 Then there are the major English chronicles, with which the monastic works generally concur and upon whom they are often wholly dependent. These are typically in Latin and have an assortment of good qualities: identiﬁable authors, some certainty of geographical provenance, and an evidentiary connection to royal court, and they are sometimes supplemented with eyewitness accounts. The most important historians of Henry’s reign are the chroniclers Roger of Howden and ‘Benedict of Peterborough,’ William of Newburgh, Ralph Diceto, and Gervase of Canterbury; the witty writers Walter Map and Gerald of Wales; the poet Jordan Fantosme; and John of Salisbury. Our consideration of their usefulness will again center on their treatment of military aﬀairs. 28 Œuvres de Rigord et de Guillaume le Breton, Historiens de Philippe-Auguste, ed. H.-F. Delaborde (Paris, 1882). 29 Gilbert of Mons, Chronicle of Hainaut, trans. L. Napran (Woodbridge, 2005), xxviii. 30 Ex Chronico Gaufredi Cænobitæ Monasterii S. Martialis Lemovic, et Prioris Vosiensis, eds. L. Delisle and M. Bouquet, in Recueil des Historiens des Gaules et de la France, 33 vols. (Paris, 1877), XII: 421–51. 31 J. Gillingham, “Events and Opinions: Norman and English Views of Aquitaine, c. 1152–c. 1204,” in The World of Eleanor of Aquitaine: Literature and Society in Southern France between the Eleventh and Thirteenth Centuries, eds. M. Bull and C. Léglu (Woodbridge, 2005), 57–82. 32 Chronicon Abbatiae Ramesiensis, eds. W. H. Hart and P. A. Lyons, 3 vols. (RS 79, 1884–1893); The Chronicle of Jocelin of Brakelond concerning the Acts of Sampson, Abbot of the Monastery of St. Edmund, ed. and trans. H. E. Butler (New York, 1949).

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The most proliﬁc chronicler of the period was Roger of Howden, a clerk and sometime emissary from Yorkshire who spent several years traveling alongside Henry II.33 To him are attributed the major works the Chronica and the Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi. The latter text had formerly been attributed to one ‘Benedict of Peterborough,’ a monk at Peterborough thought to have written independently of others, but in 1953 he was identiﬁed as Roger of Howden.34 Howden was a parson who often traveled with Henry’s court, and he became an experienced and savvy diplomat during his lengthy service to the crown. For the period 1154–1169 he is largely original, save for some Scottish materials taken from the Chronicle of Melrose. He was an eye-witness to the rebellions of 1173 and 1174, and thereafter his chronicle is an amalgamation of his own experiences and outside materials. Given his close proximity to warfare, including a thirteenmonth stint with Richard the Lionheart on the Third Crusade, one might expect Howden’s descriptions of combat to be quite detailed, but instead he saved his extended discussions for diplomatic aﬀairs.35 For example, regarding a siege conducted by Geoﬀrey Plantagenet (d. 1212), one of Henry’s illegitimate sons, Howden tells us Geoﬀrey “took the castle of Kinardeferie, and levelled it with the ground,” so we learn some important details but certainly not the whole story.36 One exception to Howden’s lack of descriptive detail is his very careful recording of treaties, assizes, and diplomatic arrangements, in all probability a result of his close connection to the court and his knowledge of state aﬀairs.37

33

For a biographical discussion, see F. Barlow, “Roger of Howden,” EHR 65 (1950): 352–60. 34 For a discussion of the Benedict question, see D. M. Stenton, “Roger of Howden and Benedict,” EHR 68 (1953): 574–82; Gransden, Historical Writing in England, 222–30; D. Corner, “The Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi and Chronica of Roger, Parson of Howden,” Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research 56 (1983): 126–44; and J. Gillingham, “The Travels of Roger of Howden and his Views of the Irish, Scots and Welsh,” in The English in the Twelfth Century: Imperialism, National Identity, and Political Values (Woodbridge, 2000), 69–72. 35 J. Gillingham, “Historians without Hindsight: Coggeshall, Diceto, and Howden on the Early Years of John’s Reign,” in King John: New Interpretations, ed. S. D. Church (Woodbridge, 1999), 21–2; Barlow, “Roger of Howden,” 357–8; J. Gillingham, “Roger of Howden on Crusade,” in Medieval Historical Writing in the Christian and Islamic Worlds, ed. D. O. Morgan (London, 1982), 65. 36 Chronica, II: 57. 37 Howden himself embarked on a diplomatic mission to Galloway in 1174; see Gillingham, “The Travels of Roger of Howden,” 71–2. On his preservation of

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William of Newburgh was an Augustinian canon, one of the period’s most engaging chroniclers, and certainly one of the more polished writers of his time. His Historia Rerum Anglicarum runs from 1066 to 1198, a timeframe that makes it an invaluable resource for the study of both Henry II and Richard I. It is important to note, however, that its provenance is between 1199 and 1201, a period of less than two years and well after the death of Henry at that. He has been applauded for his critical historical eye, his knowledge of Latin and contemporary theology, dramatic storytelling skills, and judicious impartiality.38 His location in York necessarily limited his information gathering; Newburgh was in a favorable position to learn of northern events such as the 1190 massacre of the Jews in York, but he was far removed from events in the south of England and on the Continent.39 Although his materials are replete with indications of a careful research process, with so late a date of composition we must treat his hindsight analysis with some trepidation.40 Compounding matters, Newburgh only ﬁnished one rough draft before his death, and in that time he leaned heavily upon the chronicles of Henry of Huntingdon, Roger of Howden, and Jordan Fantosme.41 He frequently gets sidetracked by tangential issues on which he is able to oﬀer a Christian lesson.42 When he speaks of military aﬀairs he typically

Henry II’s laws, see D. Corner, “The Texts of Henry II’s Assizes,” in Law-Making and Law-Makers in British History: Papers presented to the Edinburgh Legal History Conference, 1977, ed. A. Harding (London, 1980), 7–13. 38 B. Dickins, “A Yorkshire Chronicler,” Transactions of the Yorkshire Dialect Society 5 (1934): 15–26; M. Otter, Inventiones: Fiction and Referentiality in Twelfth-Century English Historical Writing (Chapel Hill, 1996), 95–6; N. F. Partner, Serious Entertainments: the Writing of History in Twelfth Century England (Chicago, 1977), 62–6; Gransden, Historical Writing in England, 265. 39 William’s account of that event reveals much about his historical style; see in general R. B. Dobson, The Jews of Medieval York and the Massacre of March 1190 (York, 1974). 40 Richard Howlett once thought the date of composition to be 1196–1198, but this has been reconsidered; see William of Newburgh, Historia Rerum Anglicarum, ed. R. Howlett, in Chronicles of the Reigns of Stephen, Henry II, and Richard I, 4 vols. (RS 82, 1884–5), I: x; and the correction in K. Norgate, “The Date of Composition of William of Newburgh’s History,” EHR 19 (1904): 295. For a brief survey of William’s life and writings see R. Jahncke, Guilelmus Neubrigensis: ein pragmatischer Geschichtsschreiber des zwölften Jahrhunderts (Bonn, 1912). 41 For William’s use of Howden in particular, see J. Gillingham, “Two Yorkshire Historians Compared: Roger of Howden and William of Newburgh,” HSJ 12 (2002): 20–25. 42 Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: xi; Partner, Serious Entertainments, 58.

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abbreviates materials gleaned from his sources into more ﬂuid stories complete with plot lines and moral lessons at the ﬁnish; while quite illustrative and interesting, his tales may be as fabulously inventive as literary tropes in the Anglo-Norman chivalric romances. William of Newburgh’s only other major work is an exposition on the Canticle of Mary in the Gospel of Luke, which is useless to military historians.43 Ralph Diceto, archdeacon of Middlesex and by 1180 dean of St. Paul’s, received a classical education at Paris and was a competent historian, so much so that Stubbs chanced to remark that “in the roll of English Historians of the twelfth century no name stands higher.” Diceto is known to have been a favorite of Stubbs and his excellence is certainly up for debate.44 Among his thirteen known works of various lengths stand two histories useful for the study of Stephen and Henry II, the aptly-named Abbreviationes Chronicorum and the longer, more detailed Ymagines Historiarum. The former text ends in 1148 and borrowed primarily from Hugh of St. Victor’s Chronicon for its short entries, while the Ymagines, the relevant source for our present study, ends in 1202 during the reign of King John. Because Diceto probably died in either 1199 or 1200, Ymagines must have been ﬁnished by a diﬀerent writer. Although the information up to 1171 is largely based on the chronicle of Robert of Torigini, its materials thereafter, and especially after 1180, are original and not to be found elsewhere.45 Accordingly, the ﬁrst half of the Ymagines bounces quickly through brief accounts of military action, such as in Diceto’s record for 1159, in which he treats the Toulouse campaign, the largest of Henry II’s reign, in but a single paragraph.46 Later accounts of warfare increase in both size and quality, and the

43 William of Newburgh’s Explanatio Sacri Epithalamii in Matrem Sponsi, ed. J. C. Gorman (Fribourg, 1996). 44 Both documents are printed in Radulﬁ de Diceto decani Lundoniensis Opera Historica, ed. W. Stubbs, 2 vols. (RS 68, 1876); for Stubbs’ comment, see Ymagines Historiarum, I: 9. 45 G. A. Zinn, “The Inﬂuence of Hugh of St. Victor’s Chronicon on the Abbreviationes Chronicorum by Ralph of Diceto,” Speculum 52:1 (1977): 38–61; D. E. Greenway, “The Succession to Ralph de Diceto, Dean of St. Paul’s,” Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research 39 (1966): 86–95; Gransden, Historical Writing in England, 231–2; C. Duggan and A. Duggan, “Ralph de Diceto, Henry II and Becket (with an appendix on decretal letters),” in Authority and Power: Studies on Medieval Law and Government presented to Walter Ullman on his Seventieth Birthday, eds. B. Tierney and P. Linehan (Cambridge, 1980), 63. 46 Ymagines Historiarum, I: 303.

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chronicle oﬀers unique information on the rebellions of 1173 and 1174. Diceto had a large number of accessible sources both secular and ecclesiastical, and as Gransden notes, he possessed more contacts on the Continent than Roger of Howden, including such men as Thomas Brown and Walter of Coutances. Diceto was loyal to the English crown and had a personal relationship with Henry II, ﬁrst meeting the king in 1162 and frequently thereafter, and his positive view of the king remained relatively unchanged even during the Becket Controversy. Diceto began preparing the ﬁnal draft of the Ymagines after Henry’s death, but unlike writers such as Gerald of Wales, who, as we shall see, embarked on vitriolic criticisms, Diceto retained his praise of the king.47 Such steadfastness does not necessarily demonstrate historical objectivity, but it does make his authorial voice more consistent. Gervase of Canterbury was a monk at Christ Church whose historical work is characteristic of the typical monastic chronicle: an amalgamation of diﬀerent source materials, including identiﬁable annals and histories, colored by frequent local references that are far more detailed than international topics. What highlights Gervase’s eﬀorts as a monastic chronicler is the fact that we know his name, as well as a few biographical details. This allows for cross-referencing of his facts and thus sets him apart from other local monastic chroniclers. Born in Kent, he became a novice at Canterbury in 1163 and remained there until his death, an unknown date in the early thirteenth century.48 He was apparently an eye-witness to the ﬁre that consumed the cathedral choir in 1174, of which he left a written account that has been routinely applauded and criticized by art and architectural historians for its use of detail.49 Gervase probably began writing history at an advanced age in 1188 and relied heavily on outside materials for his two principal historical works, the long Chronica Gervasii on the history of England and the shorter, more contemporary Gesta Regum, an unﬁnished chronicle of its kings. His sources include Henry of Huntingdon and Florence of Worcester for

47 Gransden, Historical Writing in England, 231 and 235; Duggan, “Ralph de Diceto, Henry II and Becket,” 64. 48 In 1199 he was still writing; see Gervase, I: xiv, xxvii, xxxii. 49 P. Kidson, “Gervase, Becket, and William of Sens,” Speculum 68 (1993): 969–91; see Gervase’s account of the ﬁre in The Architectural History of Canterbury Cathedral, ed. R. Willis (Chicheley, 1972).

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the reign of King Stephen, and for the reign of Henry II he uses the Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi of Roger of Howden, several Lives of Thomas Becket that had been ﬁnished by the time he began writing, and perhaps the Historia Pontiﬁcalis of John of Salisbury.50 The late date of composition is problematic in Gervase’s works and he rarely wrote about military aﬀairs. Henry II’s most notable campaign between 1163 and 1170, the 1165 expedition to Wales, for example, receives but one short sentence: “Illis vero valide resistentibus, parum vel nichil profecit; multos tamen ex suis tam milites quam pedites perdidit et reversus est.”51 Because of his reliance upon other books, as well as his hindsight method, Gervase’s authority on military matters is questionable. The poet Jordan Fantosme was probably a Norman clerk at Winchester between 1150 and 1180, but may have originally been from Poitou. He composed a lyrical chronicle of great importance to Henry II’s reign, La Chronique de Jordan Fantosme, not in Latin but Old French, which centers solely on the rebellions of 1173 and 1174. Matthew Strickland has rightly deemed this focused text “of primary importance for the study of war, diplomacy, and knighthood in the Anglo-Norman world.”52 Fantosme oﬀers vivid descriptions of battles, sieges, individual combat, and even military organization, often relating where troops were found and mustered. The chronicle is also useful for examining the warrior mentality because it relates the anxieties and joys of the men as they march on campaign. Many of his observations indicate that he himself witnessed the events he describes. Eye-witness history was, however, a new type of writing in the twelfth century, and this is the primary diﬃculty in his poetry. Peter Damian-Grint has argued that Fantosme’s eyewitness status, along with his considerable education and literary skill, renders him a reliable source—he is depicted as a sort of medieval reporter who saw events himself or used trustworthy witnesses to his advantage.53

50

Gervase, I: xxi, xliii, xlv–xlvi. Gervase, I: 197. 52 M. Strickland, “Arms and the Men: War, Loyalty and Lordship in Jordan Fantosme’s Chronicle,” in Medieval Knighthood IV: Papers from the ﬁfth Strawberry Hill Conference, eds. C. Harper-Brill and R. Harvey (Woodbridge, 1992), 220. 53 C. Hanley, War and Combat, 1150–1270: the Evidence from Old French Literature (Cambridge, 2003), 54–5; P. Damian-Grint, The New Historians of the Twelfth-Century Renaissance: Inventing Vernacular Authority (Woodbridge, 1999), 75–6. 51

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Given his location in Winchester, he may indeed have been an eyewitness to some events in Northumbria, or perhaps his informants traveled south to relate the news to him in his study. On the other hand, there is no evidence that he traveled with Henry II to the Continent, so his intricate descriptions of matters such as Matthew of Boulogne’s death in Normandy in 1173 cannot be considered authoritative. More troubling is Fantosme’s outright praise of Henry as a noble and rightful king that reveals his clear bias, “verses about the best king who ever lived”; so laudatory was his account that it was addressed to Henry himself and given to the king sometime before 1183.54 Fantosme’s sources remain a mystery and his enthusiastic data (such as 40,000 Scots arrayed against Carlisle in 1173)55 may often be construed as creative literary devices. Two other principal authors were the Welshmen Walter Map and Gerald of Wales. Neither were historians but both represent historiographical trends of some importance because they looked to the past for lessons, anecdotes, and to contextualize current events. Both were well educated and made frequent use of classical sources in conjunction with their own experiences to argue political points.56 The two were also good friends: they consulted one another frequently in speech and prose, and each commented upon the other’s work in his own. Walter Map earned his living as a clerk for Gilbert Foliot, bishop of London (d. 1187), and Henry II, later ﬁnishing his career as the archdeacon of Oxford. He won some praise as a poet, composing several pieces in French to much acclaim, but his crowning work was the De Nugis Curialium, an insightful and sometimes scathing view of the English court and its diplomatic relationships.57 Begun at some point in the 1180s, perhaps as early as 1181, the book survives in but a single manuscript and features several incomplete chapters and many grammatical errors, leading James Hinton to argue that it is essentially unﬁnished.58 The De Nugis Curialium is

54

Fantosme, xix-xx and 1 [numbers refer to Johnston’s verse divisions]; C. H. Haskins, “Henry II as a Patron of Literature,” in Essays in Medieval History presented to Thomas Frederick Tout, eds. A. G. Little and F. M. Powicke (Manchester, 1925), 75. 55 Fantosme, 71. 56 Gransden, Historical Writing in England, 221–2. 57 K. G. T. Webster, “Walter Map’s French Things,” Speculum 15 (1940): 272–9; De Nugis Curialium, xiii. 58 J. Hinton, “Walter Map’s de Nugis Curialium: its Plan and Composition,” PMLA 32 (1917): 124.

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a satirical piece at heart, “jotted down by snatches at the court of King Henry,” and is replete with stories ranging from the rise of the Hospitallers in England to the temperament of the Empress Matilda. Any information of a military nature to be gained from the book must be stripped out of the numerous anecdotes and digressions, although there are hidden gems in Map’s descriptions of Welsh ferociousness and frequent stories of individual courage in battle. One must wonder if his tales are true, given his lively quip: “I am but your huntsman. I bring you the game, it is for you to make dainty dishes out of it.”59 Gerald of Wales,60 on the other hand, was a more focused writer, dividing his subjects into a number of sizable volumes that are peppered with his own political opinions. He was born around 1146 into a family of some standing in Wales and traveled to Paris, where he studied theology, rhetoric, and canon law, and later taught as a master. He also worked in the employ of the Crown for a time, but hostilities arose over his failed bids for the bishopric of St. David’s, causing him to leave in 1193 to pursue a scholarly life.61 Before his death in 1223 he traveled throughout Wales and twice to Ireland, thereafter composing four books based on his knowledge of those areas: Itinerarium Kambriae, Descriptio Kambriae, Topographia Hibernica, and Expugnatio Hibernica. All of these are useful for the study of Henry II’s reign, especially the Expugnatio, which is a record of Henry’s conquest of Ireland. The remainder includes some of his military exploits in each country and the character of his foes, particularly the military tactics of Welsh infantry. Gerald’s other writings are useful as well, particularly De Principis Instructione Liber, a political tract that is highly critical of Henry’s governance.62 Such expressions of political intemperance make Gerald a diﬃcult writer with whom to deal. His bias against both the Crown and the see of Canterbury is readily obvious in his work, although it ﬂuctuated with his own circumstances:

59

De Nugis Curialium, 2 and 32. Alternatively called Gerald de Barri or Giraldus Cambrensis; for their diﬀerent uses, see J. Gillingham, “The English Invasion of Ireland,” in The English in the Twelfth Century, 155. 61 M. Richter, Giraldus Cambrensis: the Growth of the Welsh Nation (Aberystwyth, 1972), 4–6; R. Bartlett, “Rewriting Saints’ Lives: the Case of Gerald of Wales,” Speculum 58 (1953): 599–601. 62 De Principis Instructione Liber, ed. G. F. Warner, in Giraldi Cambrensis Opera, 8 vols. (RS 21, 1891), VIII. 60

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for over a decade he served the Angevin kings at court and praised them in his writings, but his attitude soured after he left John’s court in the wake of the unsuccessful rebellion of 1193–1194 and deteriorated further after his unsuccessful bid for the bishopric of St. David’s in 1199.63 Unlike Ralph Diceto, who remained an even-handed witness following Thomas Becket’s murder, Gerald hid not his scorn and frequently vented his frustrations.64 Even so, his works are ample evidence as to the condition of English, Welsh, and Irish church and state in the twelfth century. Like his friend Walter Map, Gerald is a witty and creative author whose descriptions of human nature are both entertaining and penetrating. Rounding out the list of notable contributors to English history is the most notable and enduring name from the Twelfth-Century Renaissance, John of Salisbury, clerk to archbishops Theobald and Thomas Becket of Canterbury (1154–1161 and 1163–1170) and later bishop of Chartres (1176–1180). Educated at Paris and Chartres under the instruction of such luminaries as Peter Abelard and William of Conches, John’s advanced learning places him in the upper echelons of the great minds of the Middle Ages. His expositions were not by themselves extraordinary or revolutionary, but he was, in the words of Etienne Gilson, “a good writer, a man of parts and a ﬁne scholar” with “a mind more delicate than powerful.”65 Attributed to his hand are ﬁve signiﬁcant works: Metalogicon, a treatise on the state of the trivium and one of the best extant surveys of medieval education; Policraticus, an exposition on the follies of courtiers and royal oﬃcials, as well as an instructional guide for good government; Vita Sancti Thomæ, a brief piece on the martyrdom of Thomas Becket; Entheticus, a short poetic discourse on philosophy; and Historia Pontiﬁcalis.66

63 R. Bartlett, Gerald of Wales, 1146–1223 (Oxford, 1982), 58. On his changing attitudes in general, see Y. Wada, “Gerald on Gerald: Self-Presentation by Giraldus Cambrensis,” ANS 20 (1997): 223–46. 64 I. Short, “Language and Literature,” in Companion to the Anglo-Norman World, 203–4. 65 R. L. Poole, ‘The Masters at the Schools of Paris and Chartres in John of Salisbury’s Time’, EHR 35 (1920): 321–42; idem, Illustrations of the History of Medieval Thought and Learning (London, 1932), 177–81; E. Gilson, History of Christian Philosophy in the Middle Ages (New York, 1955), 150–3. 66 The Metalogicon of John of Salisbury: a Twelfth-Century Defense of the Verbal and Logical Arts of the Trivium, trans. D. D. McGarry (Berkeley, 1955). For Policraticus, see in Latin Policratici sive de Nugis Curialium et Vestigiis Philosophorum, ed. C. C. J. Webb (Oxford, 1909); and in English, Frivolities of Courtiers and Footprints of Philosophers, trans.

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The last is John’s only foray into the writing of history and is a continuation of Sigebert of Gembloux’s chronicle that picks up the story in 1148 and ends in 1152. The Historia Pontiﬁcalis was probably written in 1164, making it his last major product, for his other works were ﬁnished in draft form by 1159. It is a memoir of the papal court in which John had some sort of administrative role after 1149, so in one respect it is an eye-witness account, although Marjorie Chibnall has cautioned that he could not have personally seen everything of which he wrote.67 As such it is of little use for our subject who was not crowned until 1154, and the Historia’s focus is on papal politics in Italy, Germany, and France but not England. When John refers to English or Norman aﬀairs before 1159, he does so in the Metalogicon and Policraticus; otherwise, his considerable letter collection, as noted below, extends his commentary until 1180, the year of his death. In addition to his thorough classical training in logic, grammar, and theology, John of Salisbury was also extraordinarily well-versed in theoretical military strategy, reading and owning copies of the military manuals De re militari by Flavius Vegetius Renatus and Strategemata by Julius Frontinus.68 John referred to both classical authors in the Metalogicon and Policraticus but chose to copy only those portions of the manuals instructing commanders about military training, the taking of oaths, and valor in combat. Doubtless John knew other military passages, but he appears to have been concerned mainly with the maintenance of an army and not the proper conduct of warfare: in Policraticus he states, “my purpose is not to teach this art of military aﬀairs, which yet is the greatest and most indispensable of arts.” Other notable military passages in his works include heroic battle stories about Hannibal and the kings Harold Godwinson, William I, William Rufus, Henry I, Stephen, and Henry Plantagenet in battle as duke of Normandy.69 J. B. Pike (Minneapolis, 1938), The Statesman’s Book of John of Salisbury, trans. J. Dickinson (New York, 1963), or John of Salisbury: Policraticus, of the Frivolities of Courtiers and the Footprints of Philosophers, trans. C. J. Nederman (Cambridge, UK, 1990). The text of the Entheticus is printed in Pike, 415–25. For John’s Life of Becket, see Mats., II: 299–352. 67 The Historia Pontiﬁcalis of John of Salisbury, ed. and trans. M. Chibnall (Oxford, 1986), xxii–xxx. See also idem, “John of Salisbury as a Historian,” in The World of John of Salisbury, ed. M. Wilks (Oxford, 1984), 169–78. 68 C. R. Shrader, “The Ownership and Distribution of Manuscripts of the De re militari of Flavius Vegetius Renatus” (Ph.D. Diss., Columbia University, 1976), 67–9. 69 Policraticus, VI: 6, 18–19; VIII: 25; Metalogicon, 189–90 and 199–200.

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Vernacular chronicles oﬀer diﬀerent perspectives and information on Henry II’s reign that sometimes diﬀer from the Latin records. We have already discussed the Old French chronicle of Jordan Fantosme. There are other prose and poetic accounts from Wales, Scotland, and Ireland, but because their authors were principally concerned with matters close to home, these sources are often sketchy in details when discussing aﬀairs in England. For our purposes, their information becomes useful when the borders of the Angevin Empire erupted in warfare. There are thus several identiﬁable moments during the reign of Henry II for which their information is applicable: the Scottish accounts are pertinent during the rebellions of 1173 and 1174; the Welsh during Henry’s campaigns of 1157, 1163, and 1165; the Irish for the English invasion of 1171. Another characteristic unifying the vernacular chronicles is their anonymity: although guesses can be made as to authorship, no author chose to identify himself. In such a circumstance it is hard to prefer their interpretations of events over those of known English and Norman writers, men whose education and location have been determined. Nevertheless, vernacular accounts do form additional pieces of the puzzle and are at times to be preferred to their Latin counterparts. Unfortunately, each Welsh annals that has survived postdates Henry II’s reign by at least a century and is thus immediately problematic. The earliest account is the early-thirteenth century Annales Cambriae, which was probably based on older monastic records.70 The Annales Cambriae is generally an accurate, if bare-bones, record of events concerning Gwynedd, Powys, and Deheubarth, the northern and southern regions of Wales in which English intervention most often occurred. English involvement in Welsh aﬀairs generally enters the story only when military conﬂict arose on the March, and these passages are light on detail and rather incomplete. More complete descriptions of these campaigns and battles appear in the vernacular Welsh chronicles, all of which employed Annales Cambriae as source material. Their historiographical debt to its Latin text has been soundly established along with their relative date (late-thirteenth century) and probable place of composition (the Cistercian monastery at Strata Florida).71

70

Annales Cambriae, ed. J. W. ab Ithel (RS 20, 1860). J. E. Lloyd, “The Welsh Chronicles,” Proceedings of the British Academy 14 (1928): 369–91; I. Jack, Medieval Wales (Ithaca, 1972), 24–33. 71

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Three manuscripts are extant: they are two versions of Brut y Tywysogyon, the Chronicle of the Princes, and Brenhinedd y Saesson, the Kings of the Saxons, a close parallel to the Brut.72 Due to the lack of additional evidence, historians have accepted these chronicles as the most reliable Welsh accounts of the twelfth century, despite the fact that they are not contemporary. Their usefulness for military studies varies enormously by document. The Bruts, for example, identify several Welsh soldiers and geographical aspects of March conﬂicts, but the Brenhinedd y Saesson often abbreviates those same passages or alters the content in subtle ways. Evidence from the rest of the Isles is not only scarce but limited in scope in regards to English aﬀairs. However, because major events involving kings and wars tended to be noticed and jotted down Scottish and Irish chronicles and literary sources are useful for comparative study. The pertinent Scottish chronicles share a close association with each other that is akin to the Welsh evidence, and they are based heavily upon earlier English and Scottish sources and written in Latin. The two main texts are the chronicles of Holyrood and Melrose, which, following each entry for the year 1128, have highly similar texts that record virtually the same information, albeit in diﬀerent manners and with a few exceptions. Besides royal charters, these are virtually the only Scottish sources from the reign of Henry II to have survived: John of Hexham’s chronicle ends at 1153. The English chroniclers of the next twenty years seldom notice Scottish events except those concerning the relations between the kings of Scotland and England. The Chronicle of Melrose is chieﬂy derived, for the period, from a source that was also used by Roger of Howden. That source, and the Chronicle of Holyrood, are the chief sources of information about Scottish internal aﬀairs at this time. [. . .] From 1170 onwards, the chronicle [Holyrood] supplies little that is not found in the Chronicle of Melrose, which at that point, or earlier, becomes an original work.73

The older, ﬂawed Brut y Tywysogyon, ed. J. W. ab Ithel (RS 17, 1860) has now been supplanted by Brut y Tywysogyon or the Chronicle of the Princes: Red Book of Hergest Version, ed. T. Jones (Cardiﬀ, 1955), and Brut y Tywysogyon or the Chronicle of the Princes: Peniarth MS. 20 Version, ed. T. Jones (Cardiﬀ, 1952). See also Brenhinedd y Saesson or The Kings of the Saxons: BM Cotton MS. Cleopatra BV and the Black Book of Basingwerk NLW MS. 7006, ed. T. Jones (Cardiﬀ, 1971). 73 A Scottish Chronicle known as the Chronicle of Holyrood, ed. M. O. Anderson (Edinburgh, 1938), 42–3. See also The Chronicle of Melrose, eds. A. O. Anderson and M. O. Anderson, Studies in Economics and Political Science, no. 100 (London, 1936); the excerpts 72

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In terms of warfare the Scottish annals are most important for the only military conﬂict between Henry II and the Scots, the rebellions of 1173 and 1174 when William the Lion entered the conﬂict at the behest of Henry’s son, Henry ‘the Younger’. The Irish annals are even further removed from English aﬀairs and oﬀer no more than a passing remark until 1166, when Diarmait Mac Murchada, the exiled king of Leinster, recruited English and Welsh manpower and invaded Ireland with Richard ﬁtz Gilbert, earl of Clare, by his side. Even then the Irish sources are brief and lacking suﬃcient detail. The most descriptive source for the regnal years of Henry II is the Annals of Clonmacnoise, a collection of transcribed manuscripts that perhaps has its origination in the late eleventh or early twelfth century. It is a patchy work with several missing years and many incorrect dates, but the annals have a moderate level of detail regarding the Anglo-Irish aﬀairs of the 1160s and 1170s and thus oﬀer some comparative perspective. Along with the fragmentary Annals of Tigernach, the Annals of Clonmacnoise comprises the so-called Chronicle of Ireland, a large synthesis of these two chronicles in addition to some older materials that are nevertheless no longer extant. Next in usefulness is the Annals of Ulster, a large compendium similar in style to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. The earliest extant manuscript is of ﬁfteenth-century provenance, although its composition probably began in the late thirteenth. The Annals of Ulster oﬀers less detail on English aﬀairs and is naturally more concerned with events in the north of Ireland. Along the same lines is the Annals of Boyle, probably completed in 1257; its information is extremely brief and virtually useless for the study of English history.74 During Henry’s reign, Ireland and Scotland were less frequently involved in English military aﬀairs than were the districts of Wales, and this is reﬂected in the quantity and quality of the surviving historical materials. in which English chronicles cite Scottish events have been collected in Scottish Annals from English Chroniclers, A.D. 500 to 1286, ed. A. O. Anderson (London, 1908), and Early Sources of Scottish History, A.D. 500 to 1286, ed. A. O. Anderson (Edinburgh, 1922). 74 The Annals of Clonmacnoise, being the Annals of Ireland from the Earliest Period to A.D. 1408, ed. D. Murphy, trans. C. Mageoghagan (Dublin, 1896); Annals of Ulster, ed. and trans. B. MacCarthy, 4 vols. (Dublin, 1893). Historiographical studies include K. Hughes, Early Christian Ireland: Introduction to the Sources (Ithaca, 1972), 107 and 273–4; and E. O’Curry, Lectures on the Manuscript Materials of Ancient Irish History (Dublin, 1861), 81–2 and 105–6. See J. D’Alton, The History of Ireland, from the Earliest Period to the year 1245, 2 vols. (Dublin, 1845), for a still-valuable historical study.

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Record Sources Other documents such as legal and ﬁnancial records are better suited to the study of logistics and organization than the application of warfare. The most valuable aspects of charters, writs, and diplomas are their witness lists and geographical origins. Even those available charters without a full text (printed in a basic calendar format) can be valuable for military historians, for their signatories permit the tracing of those individuals important enough to testify to an edict. Some of these witnesses are men of the cloth, but others are Henry II’s nobles and royal oﬃcers, either of whom were in many cases subordinate commanders in the ﬁeld and, at times, in command of armies when the king was absent. Second, the place of composition tells us where Henry and these other men and women were located at a certain moment in time. The dating of charters is a problematic aﬀair, however, and many edicts cannot be pinned down to a particular season, much less a calendar year, with any accuracy. At present there are four major collections of Henry II’s charters available in print. The ﬁrst is a volume in the series Regesta Regum Anglo-Normannorum, 1066–1154, which includes a register and full Latin texts of Henry’s ducal charters 1149–1154, as well as a few earlier charters on which he is listed as a witness. These documents, alongside chronicles such as the Gesta Stephani, are useful in charting his activity in England before his coronation as well as aﬀairs on the Continent during the same period. The primary collection of Henry’s continental edicts is Recueil des Actes de Henri II, printed in four volumes.75 This compendium includes over 800 of Henry’s charters issued in France or for his French beneﬁciaries. It has been supplemented by two volumes from the List and Index Society, the Acta of Henry II and Richard I, published ten years apart and edited by diﬀerent scholars.76 The ﬁrst volume deals generally with charters residing in British library and museum collections, while the second is more concerned with materials in French repositories. Neither volume oﬀers full charter texts; rather, they are calendars that include

75 Recueil des actes de Henri II, roi d’Angleterre et duc de Normandie, concernant les provinces franscaises et les aﬀaires de France, eds. L. Delisle and E. Berger, 4 vols. (Paris, 1916–27). 76 Acta of Henry II and Richard I, eds. J. C. Holt and R. Mortimer, List & Index Society Special Series, vol. 21 (Richmond, 1986); and Acta of Henry II and Richard I, Part Two.

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summaries of each manuscript, probable dates, citations to related studies of said texts, and in the case of the second volume, their full witness lists. These two volumes are but preliminary stages in the advancement of The Angevin Acta Project, an eﬀort by J. C. Holt and Nicholas Vincent to collect, edit, and print every known charter and letter of Henry II and his sons. The project is sponsored by the British Library and the University of Cambridge, and although the ﬁnished product has not yet appeared in print, the dataset of over 3500 documents is available for study through the UK Data Archive. When published, the compilation should be the deﬁnitive source of Henry’s diplomatic activity that corrals all existing collections of his charters.77 Also useful are the edited collections of the grants and charters of Henry’s French peers Louis VII and Philip Augustus, although they are at times maddening for their lack of detailed witness lists.78 G. W. S. Barrow had produced a calendar of Scottish charters issued by William the Lion. For Wales, a 1996 handlist of the acts of the Welsh princes has recently been supplemented by an excellent full-text collection.79

77 The collection is titled, The Letters and Charters of Henry II, king of England 1154 –1189, ed. N. Vincent, 4 vols. (Oxford, forthcoming). For commentary on the project, see N. Vincent, “The Charters of King Henry II: the Royal Inspeximus Reconsidered,” in Dating Undated Medieval Charters, ed. M. Gervers (Woodbridge, 2000), 99–102; for a project description, see J. C. Holt, “The Writs of Henry II,” in The History of English Law: Centenary Essays on “Pollock and Maitland,” ed. J. Hudson, Proceedings of the British Academy 89 (1996): 47–64; and idem, “The Acta of Henry II and Richard I of England 1154–1199; the Archive and its Historical Implications,” in Fotograﬁsche Sammlungen mittelalterlicher Urkunden in Europe, ed. P. Rück (Sigmaringen, 1989), 137–40. Other collections exist as well. Ancient Charters, Royal and Private, prior to A.D. 1200, ed. J. H. Round, Publications of the Pipe Roll Society, vol. 10 (London, 1888), nos. 35–53, is but a limited oﬀering. R. W. Eyton, Court, Household, and Itinerary of King Henry II (London, 1878), mentions several charters but generally paraphrases their content. There are also scores of scattered documents in Early Yorkshire Charters, eds. W. Farrer and C. T. Clay, 11 vols. (Edinburgh, 1914–63). 78 For Louis, see Études sur les actes de Louis VII, ed. A. Luchaire (Reprint, Brussels, 1964); for Philip, Recueil des actes de Philippe Auguste, roi de France, ed. M. H.-F. Delaborde, 4 vols. (Paris, 1916). To this collection has been added a ﬁfth volume: Recueil des actes de Philippe Auguste roi de France. Tome V, Suppléments d’actes, actes perdus, additions et corrections aux précédents volumes, eds. J. Favier and M. Nortier (Paris, 2004). Catalogue des actes de Philippe-Auguste, ed. L. Delisle (Paris, 1856), is an abbreviated calendar of many of the charters in the later collections. 79 Regesta Regum Scottorum, vol. II: the Acts of William I, King of Scots, 1165–1214, ed. G. W. S. Barrow (Edinburgh, 1971); Handlist of the Acts of Native Welsh Rulers, 1132–1283, eds. K. L. Maund and H. Pryce (Cardiﬀ, 1996); The Acts of Welsh Rulers, 1120–1283, eds. H. Pryce and H. Insley (Cardiﬀ, 2005).

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Those charters whose dates can be certiﬁed often correspond to information found in narrative chronicles, various surviving letters, or the copious ﬁnancial and legal records of Henry II’s reign. By ﬁnancial we are referring primarily to the Great Roll of the Pipe (or Pipe Rolls), the summary of accounts payable and receivable ﬂowing through the Exchequer. There were in Henry’s reign two terms of the Exchequer, the Michelmas term and the Easter term, and it was the job of the Scribe of the Treasurer and the Scribe of the Chancery to receive, conﬁrm, and then compile the royal accounts paid in Henry’s characteristic ‘short cross’ silver pennies. The result is a large set of extant ﬁnancial records for Henry’s regnal years, which are well-documented for the years 1155–1189.80 In the Pipe Rolls are records of expenditures for military equipment such as crossbow bolts or wagons, outlays for castle construction and destruction, the collection of scutage, and the granting of money ﬁefs, honours, and castles to individuals. Many of Henry’s laws were preserved in monastic cartularies by chroniclers such as Roger of Howden and Gervase of Canterbury, and the texts are of suﬃcient legitimacy as to justify their historical use.81 Literary Sources Other tertiary sources of information are the surviving collections of personal correspondence passed between notable individuals and hagiographical accounts that concern church matters during Henry II’s reign. Letter-writing as an art form reached a certain pinnacle

80 For Richard ﬁtz Neal’s description of the Exchequer, see Dialogus de Scaccario, eds. A. Hughes, C. G. Crump, and C. Johnson (Oxford, 1902); for a summary, see Introduction to the Study of the Pipe Rolls, in Publications of the Pipe Roll Society, (Reprint, Vaduz, 1966), III. For the early reign, see The Great Rolls of the Pipe for the Second, Third, and Fourth Years of the Reign of King Henry the Second, 1155–58, ed. J. Hunter (London, 1844); and after 1158 Publications of the Pipe Roll Society, vols. 1–38. There is no text comparable to the Dialogus for Normandy; on the nature of this problem, see C. H. Haskins, “The Government of Normandy under Henry II,” AHR 20 (1915): 277–91. 81 J. C. Holt, “The Assizes of Henry II: the Texts,” in The Study of Medieval Records: Essays in Honour of Kathleen Major, eds. D. A. Bullough and R. L. Storey (Oxford, 1971), 85–106; for the laws themselves, see Select Charters and other Illustrations of English Constitutional History from the Earliest Times to the Reign of Edward I, ed. W. Stubbs, 9th ed. (Oxford, 1913), 145–241.

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in the twelfth century, but it was relegated primarily to ecclesiastical circles that included the most educated men of the day.82 Between 1149 and 1189, some of the more proliﬁc letter-writers were also quite eloquent: Thomas Becket, John of Salisbury, Gilbert Foliot, and Arnulf of Lisieux are but a few examples.83 Most edited collections of their letters also include those they may have penned for others, such as the frequent correspondences that John of Salisbury composed and dispatched for Theobald of Canterbury as well as letters received from various other persons. Very few of these letters discuss military matters in more than a passing sentence or two, but at times these remarks can verify the movements of armies through diﬀerent areas or the locations and/or temperaments of individuals involved in the campaigns. A ﬁnal source of information for the military aﬀairs of Henry II is twelfth-century literature, particularly Anglo-Norman romances, songs of the troubadours, or metrical narratives. It is from such ‘courtly literature’ that ideals like chivalry are integrated into the deﬁnition of knighthood, where soldiers on horseback represent not just military power but a noble image of proper combat. They often depict in speciﬁc detail individual combat between knights and are thus more detail-oriented in regards to practical warfare. The use of literary evidence for military history is a tricky aﬀair, however. The purpose of the Chansons was to entertain an audience, and they are thus given to exaggeration. Whether they are retelling old legends or depicting contemporary ﬁgures on crusade, the authors of these texts are prone to excessive valorization and suspicious plotlines. The literature nonetheless has something to oﬀer military historians, as Catherine Hanley notes: . . . the portrayal of warfare extends to more than just battle scenes: war has a social function and an impact on those who take part in it

82 The best survey of ars dictaminis is still J. J. Murphy, Rhetoric in the Middle Ages (Berkeley, 1974), 194–268. 83 See The Correspondence of Thomas Becket, ed. A. Duggan, 2 vols. (Oxford, 2000); The Letters of John of Salisbury, Volume One: the Early Letters (1153–1161), eds. W. J. Millor, H. E. Butler, and C. N. L. Brooke (Revised, Oxford, 1986), and The Letters of John of Salisbury, Volume Two: the Later Letters (1163–1180), eds. W. J. Millor and C. N. L. Brooke (Oxford, 1979); The Letters and Charters of Gilbert Foliot, eds. Z. N. Brooke, A. Morey, and C. N. L. Brooke (London, 1967); The Letter Collections of Arnulf of Lisieux, ed. and trans. C. P. Schriber (Lewiston, 1997); or the older Letters of Arnulf of Lisieux, ed. F. Barlow, Camden 3rd Series, vol. 61 (London, 1939).

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. . . there is also considerable interest and variety in the narrative techniques used to depict war: the narrator of a chanson de geste may construct his scenes in a number of diﬀerent ways in order to produce varying eﬀects on his audience.84

Pertinent questions of analysis diﬀer depending on the sort of text being used. Authors like Chrétien de Troyes, who invented the Arthurian romance, wrote for royal patrons with contemporary events on their minds. Their characterizations of warfare are either representative of the period, idyllic images of the past, or both; as Richard Kaeuper puts it, “ninth-century legends were being rewritten in terms of twelfth-century problems.”85 As such they reveal more about the mentalities of war than actual historical events. By comparison, L’Histoire de Guillaume le Maréchal tells a tale of an actual person doing extraordinary deeds.86 Strickland writes, “the Histoire de Guillaume le Maréchal is eﬀectively the sine qua non for the study of warfare, the tournament and knightly values in the later twelfth century, without which our knowledge would be irreparably diminished,” whereas “because in many respects their representation of warfare is clearly considered distanced from reality, the use of chansons has been consciously restricted.”87 Gillingham has noted that in the 19,214 lines of poetry in William Marshal’s story 3,150 lines are devoted to tournaments and 8,350 lines devoted to war, making the poem a useful source of military information indeed.88 The story of Marshal was composed between 1226 and 1229,89 making it in some ways a dubious account for the warfare of Henry’s reign but an excellent one for the nature of Angevin warfare. Other literary works of similar approach include the aforementioned chronicle of Jordan

84

Hanley, War and Combat, 105–6. R. W. Kaeuper, War, Justice, and Public Order: England and France in the Later Middle Ages (Oxford, 1988), 319. 86 Chrétien de Troyes, Erec and Enide, trans. D. Gilbert (Berkeley, 1992). Erec and Enide is thought by some to have been written about Henry II’s son Geoﬀrey, but the argument is purely conjecture; see J. J. Duggan, The Romances of Chrétien de Troyes (New Haven, 2001), 9–13. On William Marshal, see L’Histoire de Guillaume le Marechal, ed. P. Meyer, 3 vols. (Paris, 1891–1901); and the newer History of William Marshal, Vol. 1, eds. A. J. Holden, S. Gregory, and D. Crouch (London, 2002). 87 Strickland, War and Chivalry, 8–9. 88 J. Gillingham, “War and Chivalry in the History of William the Marshall,” in ANW, 253. 89 D. Crouch, William Marshal: Court, Career and Chivalry in the Angevin Empire, 1147–1219 (London, 1990), 2. 85

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Fantosme and the Conquête d’Irlande, a Norman poetic account of the arrival of the English into Ireland, 1166–1172.90 While the spread of relevant literature is rather small in comparison to the number of chronicles, letters, and edicts from the mid-to-late twelfth century, it remains an important component of the extant evidence for the reign of Henry II.

90 Damian-Grint, New Historians, 79–81. For the poem, see The Song of Dermot and the Earl, ed. G. H. Orpen (Oxford, 1892).

CHAPTER TWO

HENRY’S POLITICAL AND MILITARY CAREER Henry’s boyhood ended with his crossing of the English Channel in April 1149. He arrived at Devizes on the 13th to ﬁnd the country gripped in a “wretched and frightful state of aﬀairs.”1 His mother Matilda had reluctantly withdrawn from England to the Continent, thus allowing Stephen a freer hand in ruling the country, but the king himself was beset by schism in the English church. The dispute centered on Stephen’s inability to see his son Eustace (d. 1153) anointed as co-king and heir to the English throne, which was impossible because Archbishop Theobald of Canterbury (d. 1161), the only bishop legally allowed to perform the ceremony, refused to do so without permission from Rome. That permission would never come, as Pope Eugenius III (d. 1153) would not issue the order until Stephen conﬁrmed Henry Murdac as archbishop of York, whom the pope had already consecrated on 7 December 1147. Murdac was thus the ﬁrst English bishop consecrated without royal approval since the Conquest, a serious political defeat for the king amidst a tumultuous relationship with the English church.2 So long as Stephen remained opposed to the nomination, Eustace could not be anointed king; in the meantime, because of Stephen’s lack of ﬁrm control in Yorkshire, Murdac was able to enter the county and begin acting as archbishop. Stephen’s opponents seized the opportunity to move against the king on this new ecclesiastical front, particularly King David I of Scotland (1124–1153), the grand-uncle of Henry Plantagenet, who journeyed south into his Yorkshire lands to support Murdac’s position. David had since 1126 been one of the more ardent supporters of Matilda’s claim to royal succession and had ample political motivation to assist her son. Assisted by his own son and Ranulf, earl of Chester (d. 1153), David knighted both Henry ﬁtz Empress and Roger, earl of Hereford (d. 1155), at Carlisle on Whit Sunday 1149

1 2

Gesta Stephani, 214–15. S. Marritt, “King Stephen and the Bishops,” ANS 24 (2002): 129–44.

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(22 May).3 The ceremony marked the beginning of Henry’s adult life at age sixteen and was a beacon of hope to the opposition forces which had lately lost momentum. Henry had already spent over a month in England before his knighting, issuing charters at Devizes as the Duke of Normandy, which was technically untrue because he had not yet received Normandy and would not until after year’s end.4 The signatories indicate a wide range of support for the young Angevin, with notables such as the earls of Cornwall, Gloucester, Hereford, and Salisbury in attendance, along with other important men.5 In particular, Ranulf of Chester became a steadfast ally to Henry from 1149 onwards, oﬀering substantial resources to the Angevin eﬀorts.6 In May, Henry traveled north to Carlisle for his receipt of knighthood, thus beginning what has been called the ‘Henrician Phase’ of the civil war. He and his newfound allies David, Ranulf, Roger, Hugh Bigod, the earl of Norfolk (d. 1177), and others determined to seize the moment and march southeast towards York with an army of Scots. The motivations behind this attack are unknown. R. H. C. Davis has suggested that the Angevin party hoped for a quick capture of the city, but perhaps David also hoped to marshal sympathetic allies in York through a show of uniﬁed strength. Paul Dalton argues that the attack was instigated by Henry Murdac, although the evidence for this is circumstantial at best.7 From two accounts of the event, the Gesta Stephani and the chronicle of Henry of Huntingdon, it appears that Stephen received word in advance

3

G. W. S. Barrow, David I of Scotland (1124–1153): the Balance of New and Old (Reading, 1985), 17; Davis, King Stephen, 101–7. 4 See the dispute over Henry’s return to the Continent in C. H. Haskins, “Normandy under Geoﬀrey Plantagenet,” EHR 27 (1912): 423, n. 26; R. L. Poole, “Henry II, Duke of Normandy,” EHR 42 (1927): 569–72; and Z. N. and C. N. L. Brooke “Henry II, Duke of Normandy and Aquitaine,” EHR 61 (1946): 81–9. 5 D. Crouch, The Reign of King Stephen, 1135–1154 (London, 2000), 241. For the charters, see Regesta Regis, nos. 666 and 705. 6 On Ranulf ’s loyalties, see J. H. Round, “King Stephen and the Earl of Chester,” EHR 10 (1895): 87–91; R. H. C. Davis, “King Stephen and the Earl of Chester Revised,” EHR 75 (1960): 654–60; G. White, “King Stephen, Duke Henry and Ranulf de Gernons, Earl of Chester,” EHR 91 (1976): 555–65; and P. Dalton, “The Armed Neutrality of Ranulf II of Chester,” ANS 14 (1991): 53. Ranulf ’s support could be considerable, as he once provided Stephen with 300 knights during the siege of Wallingford in 1146; see Bradbury, Stephen and Matilda, 136. 7 Davis, King Stephen, 107; P. Dalton, Conquest, Anarchy and Lordship: Yorkshire, 1066–1154 (Cambridge, 1994), 173.

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and personally intervened by riding to York himself. In the meantime, the Angevin party approached with a signiﬁcant army in hopes of besieging the city, but Stephen barred the way with assembled ranks of cavalry and infantry. Despite the number and quality of Henry’s supporters their forces were not similarly arrayed, and Stephen’s army was growing from numbers of newly arrived allies. Rather than risk losing a decisive battle the rebels retreated, took their leave of each other, and “turned back home to their kingdoms.”8 The newly knighted Henry and Roger, for Henry had few other choices, and returned to Hereford by a circuitous route in the wilderness in order to escape Stephen’s sentries. The king responded by sending his son Eustace to lay a series of traps on the road from Dursley Castle, where Henry was staying, to Bristol, his intended destination. The wily Henry received advance warning and eluded them all, ﬁrst reaching Bristol with Eustace hot on his heels and then Devizes, an Angevin stronghold from the earlier segments of the civil war. In frustration, Eustace ravaged Gloucestershire and in September was joined by his father; Stephen, returning from assorted military aﬀairs in Yorkshire, ravaged the area around Salisbury with his knights, then Marlborough, and ﬁnally Devizes. Davis interprets the march as a baiting strategy, in which Stephen hoped to lure Henry into battle by burning the nearby food supplies; David Crouch considers it an eﬀort not to oust Henry but rather to break the power of the families Marshal and Salisbury.9 In either case the Angevin allies were in a defensive posture and could not hope to match in any one area the strength of the combined royal forces. Young Henry was ﬁnally able to launch his own campaign, the ﬁrst of his military career, when Ranulf of Chester launched a diversionary attack into Lincolnshire in the northeast, threatening to cut oﬀ Stephen from Yorkshire. The king marched towards Lincoln and Henry took the opportunity to leave Devizes and march into Devon along with the forces of William, earl of Gloucester (d. 1183), and Roger of Hereford.10 This march in the fall of 1149 should be

8 Gesta Stephani, 216–17; Historia Anglorum, IV: 29. John of Hexham dissents from these two accounts by stating that the projected attack on York never physically materialized at all; see Historia Regum, 323. 9 Davis, King Stephen, 109; Crouch, Reign of King Stephen, 244. 10 On the role and position of William see D. Crouch, “Earl William of Gloucester and the End of the Anarchy: New Evidence Relating to the Honor of Eudo Dapifer,”

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considered Henry’s ﬁrst proper military campaign, for unlike the march to York earlier in the year Henry stood at the head of an army, directed its actions, besieged towns, and ravaged the landscape, all the while being assisted, not led, by the English earls. On this campaign Henry also achieved his ﬁrst military victory at the harbor town of Bridgport, taking the town by storm and acquiring the allegiance of its castellan. Further eﬀorts in the south were stymied by Henry de Tracy, Stephen’s military governor in Devon and Somerset, “a man of war and well tried in all martial exercises,” who chose not to engage in battle but instead hole up in his fortiﬁcations, particularly Barnstaple in Devon.11 Young Henry was therefore not able to vanquish his enemies as he may have wished, although he did manage to relieve Devizes from the attack of Eustace before year’s end. Yet despite this vigorous resurgence in 1149, anti-Stephen forces in England remained in a precarious position. Outside of receiving a new leader in Henry, and with him perhaps a new swagger, the state of political and military aﬀairs in the country had actually changed very little. Stephen and Eustace retained strong armies and marched at will, and because Henry had not brought very many troops with him when he arrived for his knighting, the coalition was in desperate need of additional manpower. Therefore, between the end of 1149 and March 1150 Henry returned to the Continent to collect more soldiers from Normandy and Anjou. The exact moment of his departure is unknown, perhaps either December 1149 or January 1150.12 In any case he was gone for more than three years, not returning to England until 1153. Robert of Torigini’s ﬁrst report of Henry on the Continent is to note that he received, at the age of seventeen, the duchy of Normandy from his father Geoﬀrey, which was Henry’s rightful inheritance through his mother.13 For the remainder of 1150 Duke Henry stayed by his father’s side at the sieges of Montreuil-Bellay, and he did not perform homage to his new liege

EHR 103 (1988): 69–75; and R. B. Patterson, “An Un-Edited Charter of Henry Fitz Empress and Earl William of Gloucester’s Comital Status,” EHR 87 (1972): 755–7. 11 Gesta Stephani, 210–11. 12 Brooke and Brooke, “Henry II, Duke of Normandy and Aquitaine,” 84. 13 Torigini, 161; see also the verses of Etienne de Rouen, Draco Normannicus, ed. R. Howlett, in Chronicles of the Reigns of Stephen, Henry II, and Richard I, vol. 2 (RS 82, 1885), II: 602.

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lord Louis VII of France until August 1151. Louis himself was not altogether pleased by the prospect of a rival kingdom comprising of Normandy, Anjou, and England. His best recourse was to enlist the aid of Stephen in order to put down the Angevin threat. Stephen himself remained in England, besieging Worcester twice in 1150 and 1151, but he did send Eustace, an appropriate choice considering Eustace had married Louis’ sister Constance and was thus the king’s brother-in-law. Eustace’s presence on the Continent signiﬁed the last great eﬀort by Stephen to secure his rights in Normandy.14 Henry clashed with both Eustace and Louis by relieving Arques Castle from their attack in the late spring or early summer 1151, and Henry’s subsequent attack upon Torigini was deterred by them in return. In August, Louis took an army to a point between Melun and Mantes on the Seine and encountered the forces of Henry and his father Geoﬀrey, but illness prevented a battle from taking place. A truce was settled, and Louis accepted Henry’s homage for Normandy. Soon afterwards two events occurred that would drastically change the landscape of the western Continent. The ﬁrst was the death of Henry’s father Geoﬀrey le Bel on 7 September 1151, which occurred before Henry could assemble the nobles of Normandy to discuss an invasion of England. Geoﬀrey was only thirty-nine at his demise, young for a man who had often showed great vigor in governance and warfare, and Robert of Torigini attributes his death to a severe fever. His last will and testament proved to be highly controversial: on his deathbed he is said to have given Anjou to Henry and only four castles to Henry’s brother Geoﬀrey (d. 1186). William of Newburgh tells us that three of these castles were Loudun, Mirebeau, and Chinon, all notable strongholds in Anjou. Yet the absence of substantial lands was surely frustrating for Geoﬀrey and is comparable to Henry I’s receipt of money (but no land) from William the Conqueror in 1087.15 The period after the death of Geoﬀrey saw a renewal of strategic discussions between Henry and his barons, now Norman and Angevin alike, concerning the expedition to England. In the spring of 1152 occurred the second notable event, Henry’s marriage to Eleanor of Aquitaine (d. 1204), the heiress to the duchy

14 Warren, Henry II, 41–2; Historia Anglorum, IV: 30–31; H. J. Tanner, “Reassessing King Stephen’s Continental Strategies,” Medievalia et Humanistica 26 (1999): 101–18. 15 Torigini, 163; Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 113–14.

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of Aquitaine, on 18 May. This was made possible by the annulment of Eleanor’s marriage with Louis VII in February 1152.16 Less than eight weeks later Henry took her as his wife. The marriage itself has been seen as a grand romance in which a dashing knight swept Eleanor up in an exciting display of chivalric love, but in fact it constituted only a small blip on the radar of the chroniclers alive at the time; only the later authors, looking back at an event which presaged a number of dramatic events in the 1170s and 1180s, thought to comment in any detail.17 The consequence of Henry’s marriage was to arouse the anger of men on the Continent who feared his sudden increase in power, for now Henry not only was the master of Normandy, Anjou, and Maine, but through marriage stood to gain the duchy of Aquitaine. Although Louis VII had not himself devoted much eﬀort to the governance of the south, he had never relinquished his own lordship over Aquitaine and still fancied himself duke.18 Very quickly he realized that Henry’s strength could soon dwarf his own and moved swiftly to quash him. Joining Louis was Henry, count of Champagne (d. 1181), who was engaged to Louis and Eleanor’s daughter Mary and thus until the annulment had stood to gain Aquitaine for himself. Eustace also returned to the Continent, wishing to defeat Henry and preserve his inheritance of England. Finally, Louis was joined by Henry’s own brother Geoﬀrey, who felt cheated out a rightful inheritance by the dying wishes of his father. The coalition struck at Neuf Marché, and although it fell, Henry’s counterattacks into the Vexin persuaded Louis to make peace. As a result, Henry was ﬁnally able to sail to England.19 Events in England would force Henry to launch his invasion before the spring thaw of 1153. Stephen had mounted a series of winter attacks across the countryside, ﬁghting battles, raiding villages, and 16 Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 92–4; Draco Normannicus, 603. For discussions of causation, see Warren, Henry II, 43–4; J. A. Brundage, “The Canon Law of Divorces in the Mid-Twelfth Century: Louis VII c. Eleanor of Aquitaine,” and C. B. Bouchard, “Eleanor’s Divorce from Louis VII: the uses of Consanguinity,” in Eleanor of Aquitaine: Lord and Lady, eds. B. Wheeler and J. C. Parsons (New York, 2002), 213–22 and 223–36, respectively. 17 The drama is epitomized in A. Kelly, Eleanor of Aquitaine and the Four Kings (Cambridge, 1950), 79–81. 18 C. W. Hollister and T. K. Keefe, “The Making of the Angevin Empire,” The Journal of British Studies 12 (1973): 21. 19 Torigini, 165–6; Historia Anglorum, IV: 31; Gervase, I: 150.

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generally gaining the advantage wherever he rode. The rebels were outmanned and eagerly awaited Henry’s return, but he had been delayed by death, marriage, and two major stints of warfare. In the meantime the plight of the opposition had not improved. After shoring up his power in the counties Stephen turned his attention to Wallingford Castle, the most eastern Angevin castle and a strong rebel base that had frustrated Stephen twice before. In 1139 a potential assault was thwarted by the well-supplied motte-and-bailey structure, so Stephen ordered two counter-castles built to the west of town between Wallingford and Bristol in order to prevent potential sallies by the Angevin garrison. Robert of Gloucester demolished both countercastles in 1140, and Stephen returned in 1146 with 300 knights from Ranulf of Chester, but once again a direct attack failed to materialize.20 Stephen ordered another counter-castle built: called Crowmarsh Giﬀard, its construction was more solid than that of its predecessors and may have been built on a motte.21 After taking the town of Newbury by storm, the king returned to besiege Wallingford for a third time in 1152 and built either one or two additional countercastles.22 Crowmarsh was apparently still standing, for Robert of Torigini dates its destruction to 1153, but Stephen probably felt it necessary to tighten his ring of fortiﬁcations.23 The counter-castles, combined with the size and position of Stephen’s army, were serious threats to the garrison in Wallingford Castle. Together with Roger of Hereford and some of Duke Henry’s men, the Angevin garrison attempted a sally, but Stephen’s forces easily defeated the rebels and chased them back into the castle.24 In a treacherous move, Roger next made a secret deal with Stephen and surrendered himself in return for the king’s assistance against the castle of Worcester, which had been taken from William de

20 Historia Novella, 37. One of the counter-castles may have been named Brightwell; see D. J. King, Castellarium Anglicanum, 2 vols. (New York, 1983), I: 13. 21 Historia Anglorum, IV: 24; Gesta Stephani, 94. 22 Gesta Stephani, 226–7, notes “he hastily built two castles”; Henry of Huntingdon, Historia Anglorum, IV: 32, says that Stephen built one castle by the entrance to Wallingford bridge in order to cut oﬀ food supplies; Gervase, I: 151, also notes only one castle. For commentary see Bradbury, Stephen and Matilda, 161; R. Bartlett, England Under the Norman and Angevin Kings, 1075–1225 (Oxford, 2000), 283; Warren, Henry II, 48; and C. F. Slade, “Wallingford Castle in the Reign of Stephen,” Berkshire Archaeological Journal 58 (1960): 41–2. 23 Torigini, 173. 24 Gesta Stephani, 226–7.

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Beauchamp (d. 1211) by some of Waleran of Meulan’s knights. Roger and Stephen marched to besiege Worcester while leaving some forces around Wallingford.25 Though Roger had betrayed the Angevin garrison his deceit probably saved the castle by leading the English army away from the scene. Now free from harm and safely in league with the king, at Worcester Roger switched his loyalties once again and secretly sent word to Duke Henry, asking him to travel speedily with troops to England. According to the Gesta Stephani, Stephen was well aware of this intrigue. Were he a diﬀerent sort of king who discarded honor in the face of treachery, Stephen might have imprisoned Roger for his duplicity; instead, Stephen refused to break his new alliance (and thus his word), and he moved most of his army back to Wallingford, leaving Roger in charge at Worcester. Not surprisingly, once he was alone Roger secured Worcester through bargaining and became Stephen’s enemy once again.26 Henry landed at Wareham by mid-January 1153 with over 3000 soldiers and moved to attack Stephen’s castle at Malmesbury.27 The move had the eﬀect of drawing the king away from Wallingford and to the north, and by the time Stephen and Eustace arrived not only had the town fallen but Henry had invested the castle. Henry gathered his forces and met Stephen across the River Avon but battle was not joined. Malmesbury keep was consequently surrendered in the absence of military succor and perhaps because of treason by its castellan Jordan. Jordan was directed by Stephen to oversee the keep’s destruction, a stipulation the Gesta Stephani claims was arranged between Henry and Stephen in a truce drawn up on the Avon’s banks. Instead, Jordan surrendered the castle to Henry, thus giving Henry yet another stronghold in western England. As respective portions of his army went their separate ways, Stephen returned to London dispirited and suspicious that some of his barons were considering desertion to the duke’s side.28 Henry let his army rest for the remainder of the winter and began campaigning anew in the spring. We are told that the duke set oﬀ

25 The confusion surrounding Stephen’s Worcester campaign(s) is addressed in Crouch, Reign of King Stephen, 289–90. 26 Gesta Stephani, 228–31. 27 Wareham as the landing point is argued in Davis, King Stephen, 118, n. 14. 28 Historia Anglorum, IV: 34; Torigini, 171–2; Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 89; Gesta Stephani, 230–33.

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in pursuit of the remnants of Stephen’s army, but his movements suggest a rather haphazard progress of moving from target to target, sometimes led by his own design and sometimes by the wishes of his allies. Because of charters that are diﬃcult to precisely date and vague comments in the narrative evidence, historians have had some problems tracing his path across England in 1153.29 What is clear is that Henry spent the middle months of the year acquiring castles through force or negotiation, thereby gaining new territories and allies such as Robert, earl of Leicester (d. 1168). By August, Henry was strong enough to address the ongoing siege of Wallingford. He besieged Stephen’s counter-castle of Crowmarsh and once again managed to lure the king’s army into a potential confrontation. When Stephen and Eustace arrived Henry took down his ramparts and arrayed his army against them from across the River Thames. Battle was never joined, however, and the two sides agreed to a truce that included Stephen’s recovering of some eighty hostages and the demolition of Crowmarsh, which had been the cause for the situation.30 Henry spent the remainder of the autumn attacking the castle at Stamford and sacking Nottingham. Henry’s prospects in England continued to improve over the course of 1153. He had taken or received several towns and castles and campaigned largely without hindrance, while his enemies had experienced several political setbacks. Stephen’s ongoing attempts to have Eustace crowned as a living heir to the throne had been stymied since April 1152, when Archbishop Theobald of Canterbury refused to crown Eustace as a living heir. When other bishops refused Stephen’s request that they overstep the metropolitan’s primacy in the matter and crown Eustace themselves the king arrested them. Theobald himself escaped to exile in Flanders. Eugenius III backed the archbishop’s prerogative, and once Stephen regained his composure Theobald returned to England just a few months later.31 In the end, the coronation issue worked itself out without royal or ecclesiastical interference. After the demolition of Crowmarsh Castle in

29 Gesta Stephani, 235–6. See the chronologies in Davis, King Stephen, 120; Crouch, Reign of King Stephen, 262–72; J. T. Appleby, The Troubled Reign of King Stephen (New York, 1970), 64–7; and H. A. Cronne, The Reign of King Stephen 1135–54: Anarchy in England (London, 1970), 64–7. 30 Historia Anglorum, IV: 34; Gesta Stephani, 237–9; Gervase, I: 153. 31 A. Saltman, Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury (New York, 1969), 36–9.

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1153, Eustace, upset at Stephen’s inability to engage Henry in battle, embarked on a personal rampage of frustration, laying waste to the lands of Bury-St. Edmund’s. On the evening of 10 August Eustace sat down to dine, took a bite of his meal, promptly had a seizure, and died a week later. The food upon which he dined had come from the abbey, and the question of assassination or food poisoning is as of yet undecided.32 Stephen was left with only one remaining son, William of Boulogne (d. 1159), who decidedly lacked the political aspirations of his older brother. As the non-action at Wallingford had demonstrated, Stephen’s remaining barons were hesitant to ﬁght Henry and perhaps sensed that an end to the civil war, which had been fought at least sporadically since 1139, was ﬁnally in sight. In fact, peace negotiations had already begun, with Theobald and Henry, bishop of Winchester (d. 1171), communicating with ducal representatives for several months during the summer and autumn of 1153. In the meantime, Henry’s strength had only grown in terms of both allies and territory. Four undated charters, which we can reasonably assign to late September or October 1153, indicate that Henry traveled south from Nottingham to the traditional Angevin base of Devizes and thence southeast to Wilton. In a grant to Bermondsey Priory, Henry promised royal conﬁrmation of rents once his rights to the throne were conﬁrmed, an indication that the duke’s conﬁdence in his position was rising.33 From Wilton Henry rode east to Winchester, arriving there in early November to settle permanently a peace with Stephen. The agreement is one of the classic feudal documents of English history. Henry pledged fealty to Stephen as his lord with the condition that he become the king’s direct heir to the English throne. William of Boulogne in turn would pay homage to Henry as his lord, and the duke would reward his new vassal with all of Stephen’s lands in Normandy, most of which had been lost during the civil war. Speciﬁcally named are the honour of Warenne and the castles of Bellencombre and Mortemer, as well as several unnamed castles and all the villages and revenues of Mortaine, of which William was count. Finally, all of Stephen’s earls and barons would perform liege homage to Henry, destroy the unauthorized

32 See T. Callahan, “Sinners and Saintly Retribution: the Timely Death of King Stephen’s Son Eustace,” Studia Monastica 18 (1976): 109–17. 33 Regesta Regis, no. 90.

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castles built during the anarchy, and surrender to him the remainder of their fortiﬁcations at the time of his accession. The formal proceedings commenced on 6 November, the charter was signed in December at Westminster, and the rites of homage were performed at Oxford on the Feast of the Epiphany in 1154 (13 January). Although the peace was indeed brokered by ecclesiastical forces, the evidence of the period 1149–1153 should give the duke some measure of credit for enabling the Winchester settlement through force of arms.34 In practice, the terms of the treaty meant little until Henry actually became king, and there are no extant royal charters in which Henry attests to Stephen as his lord.35 In late February Henry again met with Stephen, complaining that many of the baronial castles still stood, but Stephen denied the charge. Henry then left England before Easter (4 April), returned to the Continent, and remained there until Stephen’s death on 25 October 1154. Some historians have attributed his departure to the strained relations with Stephen and also a possible plot against the duke’s life hatched by a conjunction of the English barons, Flemings (perhaps William of Ypres), and Stephen’s son William. The evidence is doubtful at best. The source of the rumor, Gervase of Canterbury, did not begin writing his chronicle until 1188, and neither Henry of Huntingdon nor Robert of Torigini mentions the plot. The supposed conspiracy between nobles, Flemings, and princes is rather akin to the rebellions of 1173 and 1174, and one wonders if Gervase was projecting more current events backwards into Henry’s ducal reign.36 The more likely scenario is that Henry was once again turning his attention to the Continent and, as Crouch notes, that he brought his two most important allies in England, Robert of Leicester and Reginald, earl of Cornwall (d. 1175), along for the journey speaks volumes.37 With England for the most part secure, the duke surely

34

Argued by Leedom, “Settlement of 1153,” 360. See J. C. Holt’s excellent “1153: the Treaty of Winchester,” in The Anarchy of King Stephen’s Reign, ed. E. King (Oxford, 1994), 291–316. The Latin text of the treaty can be found in Regesta Regis, no. 272; in English translation, see EHD, 404–7. It is mentioned in all of the narrative chronicles: see Torigini, 177; Historia Anglorum, IV: 38; Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 91; and Gesta Stephani, 240–1. 36 Reported by Gervase, I: 158; on the conspiracy see Davis, King Stephen, 126; Warren, Henry II, 53. 37 Crouch, Reign of King Stephen, 280–1. 35

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grasped the danger to his inherited lands in Normandy, where Louis VII was again moving against the border of the province. With the aid of Flemings Louis had besieged and eventually received the castle of Vernon in July 1153, and in September he launched a surprise attack on Verneuil and burned a portion of the town. In the next year Louis married his second wife, Constance, daughter of Alfonso VII (1126–1157), the king of Castile. Louis must have been thinking not only of the need for an heir (which he would not receive until his third wife Adela of Champagne delivered the young Philip II in 1165) but also of a way to expand his inﬂuence around Aquitaine. Accordingly, upon landing Henry ﬁrst marched to assert his suzerainty over his Norman lands; second, he moved into Aquitaine to suppress a rebellion there and shore up his position in the south. The importance of Aquitaine is evident by the length of Henry’s stay there: despite Normandy’s position as the bedrock of his continental power, the duke remained in Aquitaine until late June. He was back in Rouen by 24 June to conﬁrm the election of Robert of Torigini as prior of Bec. Peace talks between Henry and Louis were then initiated in August and Henry received the castles of NeufMarché and Vernon, two places Louis had besieged and taken after Henry’s reception of Normandy. In return, Henry compensated the French crown for its expenditures in the taking of the castles in the ﬁrst place, to the sum of two thousand marks. The remainder of Henry’s time in the autumn of 1154 was spent besieging his rebellious cousin Richard, son of Robert of Gloucester, at Torigini, and then campaigning in the Vexin alongside Louis VII (who was, after all, his feudal lord) against Joscelin Crispin.38 It was during this second siege of Torigini that Henry received word of Stephen’s death on 25 October 1154 at the hands of a severe illness, perhaps dysentery. The last year of Stephen’s life was essentially tranquil, and apart from intense discussions with the unhappy Henry in late February, the king had been able to reign in peace. Henry’s English allies, such as Hugh Bigod and William, earl of Gloucester, ceased to present either military or political diﬃculties, and the indications are that the royal administration continued in its regular manner. Mints in Gloucestershire and Devon began turning out coins emblazoned with Stephen’s image for the

38

Torigini, 174 and 179–81.

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ﬁrst time in decades, and Stephen seems to have enjoyed a general resurgence in his public image as well.39 Such newfound respectability had its dangers—Henry of Huntingdon speaks abstractly about the evil counsel whispered into his ears while Duke Henry was absent, pushing him to rescind the peace—but in the end Stephen upheld the strictures of Winchester. In order to return the honour of Drax in Yorkshire to the Paynel family, which had formerly been dispossessed for its allegiance to Matilda, Stephen besieged the castle there in the summer of 1154 and defeated Philip of Colleville. Stephen’s faithfulness to his word, a characteristic he displayed throughout his entire reign, bore fruit after his death. England was indeed at peace, and Henry himself found no reason to hurry to claim the throne as both Stephen and Henry I had done. Instead, the duke waited until 7 December to cross and was not crowned at Westminster until the 19th. Contrary winds in the Channel may also have been to blame, but in all likelihood, with peace having been agreed upon in both England and Normandy, Henry had no reason to speed up his aﬀairs. Such deliberateness of motion was to be a hallmark of the ﬁrst Angevin king of the English.40 Henry II was crowned at Westminster on 19 December 1154 and thereafter set himself to the governance of a kingdom vast in scope and diverse in population. His immediate concern was to stabilize the country and assert his royal authority. To this end he sought to conﬁscate or destroy the illegal castles left over from the anarchy of Stephen’s reign; in addition, Henry expelled all foreign mercenaries from English lands.41 While few could have been sad to see the Flemings depart, considerable resistance developed against what some nobles saw as a deprivation of their traditional right to private castles on lands held through homage. It was a risky political move because Henry had little money with which to reward loyal magnates, and his main supporters were those who championed his cause against Stephen. The policy of conﬁscation did not make the king many new friends.42 Nevertheless, with many nobles giving in to the king’s demands Henry got what he wanted, although the intractable

39 40 41 42

G. J. White, “The End of Stephen’s Reign,” History 75 (1990): 18–19. Historia Anglorum, IV: 39–40. Torigini, 183. J. A. Green, The Aristocracy of Norman England (Cambridge, 1997), 135–6.

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William le Gros and Hugh Mortimer both had to be persuaded by force. William surrendered upon hearing of the approach of Henry’s army, but Hugh was not to be intimidated and fortiﬁed his castles against the king. In the summer of 1155 Henry besieged Bridgnorth Castle for several days until its garrison surrendered; likewise, he took Cleobury and Wigmore but graciously oﬀered Hugh a full pardon of his crimes.43 This display of force was enough to convince the barons of his seriousness, and Henry did not face a rebellion from the nobility in England for another decade. Once so established, Henry II laid out his other plans of strong governance, ﬁrst turning his attention to the seizure of castles in his continental lands. Henry sailed from Dover in January 1156, landed in Picardy, and proceeded to Rouen. Before asserting his will he met with Louis VII in the Vexin and did homage for the lands of Normandy, Anjou, Touraine, Maine, and Aquitaine.44 Louis could not have been thrilled at his fortunes, but perhaps he took some solace in the fact that, for the moment, the powerful Henry was acting the part of an obedient vassal. The person of more immediate concern was Henry’s brother Geoﬀrey, who had been deprived of any substantial lands by their father. Geoﬀrey le Bel’s will had given Henry, already the duke of Normandy, the county of Anjou, leaving brother Geoﬀrey with only four castles, including Mirebeau (Poitou) and Loudun and Chinon (Touraine), which was notable for its natural defenses even before Henry improved its walls with semicircular stone towers.45 Back in Rouen Henry had a conference with his brother and Theodoric, count of Flanders, to contest Geoﬀrey’s claims to Touraine and Maine. As noted above, it was the count of Anjou who controlled both these regions and Henry was hardly going to acquiesce to his brother’s demands. The fact that he had paid homage to Louis strengthened his cause, but there was a price: Henry became England’s ﬁrst king to pay homage to a French monarch.46 Geoﬀrey, for his part, left Rouen and marched to Nantes, taking the city with the consent of its citizens. Situated in a powerful strate-

43

Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 163; Ymagines Historiarum, I: 301; Gervase, I: 161–2. Chronica, I: 215. 45 Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 113–14. 46 That is, to pay physical homage as well as owe fealty or service; see C. W. Hollister, “Normandy, France, and the Anglo-Norman Regnum,” Speculum 51 (1976): 235. 44

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gic location by commanding the mouth of the Loire River, Nantes sat as a constant threat to the borders of Anjou and Poitou. Henry no longer had a choice in the matter and set about besieging Geoﬀrey’s castles in late February. One by one they fell: ﬁrst Mirebeau, then Chinon, and ﬁnally Loudon, which was surrendered in May. Geoﬀrey and Henry agreed to terms by July: Henry retained his lands and by the assent of the people became the heir to the county of Nantes should his brother die. In exchange, Geoﬀrey received annual payments of £1,000 from England and £2,000 from Anjou.47 Henry spent the remainder of 1156 on the Continent, moving from Anjou to Normandy in September, and then he traveled south to Limoges in October. He sent an army northwest into Poitou to occupy Thouars and expel its viscount Geoﬀrey, who had helped defend Chinon against him earlier in the year.48 In 1158, Henry would be compelled to return to Nantes when his brother died on 26 July. Duke Conan IV of Brittany (d. 1171) took possession of the county, and although Conan had once assumed the dukedom of Brittany with Henry’s blessing he had now overstepped his bounds. The early years of Henry’s reign were characterized by the exertion of power over rebellious vassals, and Brittany was no exception. With Louis VII charging his vassal to pacify the Bretons, Henry called in the obligations of his Norman knights and mustered an army at Avranches on Michelmas (29 September). Conan submitted to Henry and ceded Nantes back to the king.49 Scotland and Wales Expansion of royal authority continued to interest Henry II after sailing from Barﬂeur to Southampton on 8 April 1157. On 19 May he demanded the surrender of the castles of Hugh Bigod and William of Blois, King Stephen’s only remaining son. This was an eﬀort to bring East Anglia back under the sway of the king and away from that of the Bigod family, which had since the days of the anarchy been successful in amassing great wealth. Hugh himself appears to have been in the favor of Henry, evidenced by his regular appearances

47 48 49

Ymagines Historiarum, I: 302; Torigini, 187–90. Eyton, Court, Household, and Itinerary, 19–20. Torigini, 196–7; Warren, Henry II, 76–7.

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at court between 1154 and 1158, but the king’s policy of castle conﬁscation was not constrained by friendship.50 It was also in this year that the king ﬁrst turned his attention to English borders in the north and west. In July he met with the Scottish king Malcolm IV at Chester. In 1149, Stephen had promised Northumbria to the descendents of King David I, but Henry saw this as a usurpation of his rights and wanted the land returned. Malcolm paid homage to Henry, surrendered Northumberland and its castle of Newcastleupon-Tyne, and also Bamburgh, Westmoreland, and Carlisle in Cumberland. To Malcolm was restored the earldom of Huntingdon that had been lost during the anarchy. Their feudal bond notwithstanding, Henry and Malcolm’s relationship was rocky: because Malcolm had not actually provided Henry with military service, the king did not knight him until 1159 and then only as a reward for the Scot’s assistance on the Toulouse campaign. The consequence of Malcolm’s knighthood was a rebellion of six Scottish earls the very next year, men upset about his acquiescence to Henry’s every wish concerning northern English lands.51 Malcolm was besieged at Perth, but after resisting the siege the Scottish king gathered an army and conquered Galloway.52 As for Henry, he looked to the rebuilding of Wark Castle with a three-story tower keep and perhaps a defensive ditch; this fortress would later be staunchly defended against Scottish invasions in 1174.53 In sum, the king of the English got what he wanted in terms of both land rights and stability in his northern regions. The central military event of 1157 was Henry’s ﬁrst campaign in the Isles after his coronation, the invasion of Gwynedd in northern Wales. Unlike Scotland, which had periodically entered into stable relationships with the Anglo-Norman kings since the days after the Conquest, Wales was a splintered region of shifting alliances and diﬃcult geography. All of the Anglo-Norman kings save Stephen had

50 Torigini, 192–3; A. Wareham, “The Motives and Politics of the Bigod Family,” ANS 17 (1995): 238–9. 51 Ymagines Historiarum, I: 302; Chronica, I: 217; Torigini, 192; Chronicle of Holyrood, 129–32. See also A. A. M. Duncan, The Kingship of the Scots, 842–1292: Succession and Independence (Edinburgh, 2002), 72; and A. O. Anderson, “Anglo-Scottish Relations from Constantine II to William,” Scottish Historical Review 42 (1963): 16. 52 Chronica, I: 217. 53 Armitage, Early Norman Castles, 367 and 388.

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attempted to subdue the Welsh in one way or another with mixed results, and during his reign his lack of attention westward had allowed the Welsh to regain a ﬁrm grip on their lands. By 1154, three major principalities existed in Wales: roughly, Deheubarth in the south, Powys in the center, and Gwynedd in the north, and one by one they rebelled against English authority. Initial problems arose in 1157 when Prince Owain of Gwynedd (d. 1170) seized power for himself by asserting his authority over that of the English as well as his own relatives. First came the exiling of his two brothers Cadwaladr and Madog, who were also the heirs to Powys; second, Owain attacked Henry II’s castle of Tegeingl. The seizure of power was not uncommon, but Henry could not accept an attack against his own possessions and so marched against Owain in the summer. The campaign has been noted for Henry’s use of scutage: his ﬁrst levy of scutage had occurred in 1156, and in the next year he collected only one-third of the knight service owed to him in England for the war in Wales. This is also the ﬁrst campaign for which we have detailed evidence about the nature of the king’s army, its rough itinerary through Wales, and a forest battle at Coleshill Wood that involved Henry in personal, mortal combat.54 After surviving an ambush in the forest, Henry pushed forward and Owain ﬂed north. In time, the prince acquiesced and pledged fealty to the king, so despite the rocky progress of the campaign Henry had achieved the objective of his campaign by forcing submission. Before leaving Gwynedd, Henry fortiﬁed the castles of Rhuddlan and Basingwerk.55 The Welsh campaign of 1157 is symptomatic of Henry’s ﬁrst few years as king: a policy of direct confrontations with his enemies and the reclamation of what he saw as his royal rights. While the 1157 campaign secured the submission of the northern princes, it did not really solve the problem of violence on the March. The Welsh were an intractable bunch, frequently moving against baronial lands on the Anglo-Welsh border, either by attacking castles or raiding into England itself. Not surprisingly, then, no other region in England contained more fortiﬁcations than the March: over

54 On scutage, see T. K. Keefe, Feudal Assessments and the Political Community under Henry II and his Sons (Berkeley, 1983), 25. The best accounts of the 1157 are Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 106; Hergest, 135; and Peniarth, 59. 55 Torigini, 195.

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300 castles occupied the border before 1215, most of them arrayed across the central Marcher lands in order to force Welsh incursions to the north or south, areas in which England had larger urban populations and thus higher numbers of available troops. Most of the castles were of the motte-and-bailey sort, constructed out of wood and as necessity demanded.56 Nevertheless, in the late 1150s southern Wales had yet to be dominated. Prince Rhys ap Deheubarth (d. 1197), much weaker initially than Owain and looking to expand his fortunes in the south, engaged in hostilities against the Marcher lands of Roger of Clare and Walter Cliﬀord in 1158. Henry II ﬁrst tried a diplomatic solution. Rather than mount a campaign against Rhys, he summoned the prince to court and oﬀered him castles amidst the baronial lands in an attempt at paciﬁcation. Earl Roger reacted negatively to the oﬀer and, using a deceitful treaty as cover, seized plunder and garrisoned castles in Rhys’ lands. When the prince complained to Henry, the king ordered Roger to pay reparations, but his concern ultimately lay with his earl and not the Welshman. Consequently, when Roger refused reparations and Rhys attacked his castles in response, Henry marched into Wales with an army. No ﬁghting occurred, but Henry took hostages from Rhys as surety for his future good conduct.57 Such conduct was not forthcoming: in 1159, the very next year, Rhys attacked more castles and was beset by an army composed of ﬁve Marcher earls and Cadwaladr of Gwynedd, who had married into the Clare family and had an interest in their well-being.58 A truce was concluded, and Rhys spent the next three years quietly minding his own aﬀairs. In 1163, however, Rhys would ﬁnally incur the wrath of Henry II by moving against not only baronial lands but interests of the English Crown. He attacked the castle of Llandovery, a fortress in which the Angevin court had invested substantial funds for its strengthening and reconstruction. Llandovery had been built by the Norman Richard Fitzpons, taken by the Welsh in 1116, and then recovered in 1158. Its defenses were bolstered by a stone tower and improved guardhouse, but the castle fell nonetheless to Rhys and Henry was

56 R. R. Davies, Conquest, Coexistence, and Change: Wales, 1063–1415 (Oxford, 1987), 90–1. 57 Brenhinedd y Saesson, 159–61. 58 A. H. Williams, An Introduction to the History of Wales, 2 vols. (Cardiﬀ, 1962), II: 38.

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compelled to intervene in Marcher aﬀairs once more.59 The king had spent 1160–1162 on the Continent but, unluckily for Rhys, had recently returned in January 1163 for the installation of Thomas Becket (d. 1170) as archbishop of Canterbury. Henry assembled a sizable force in April, entered Glamorgan, quickly marched through Gower and Carmarthen, and ﬁnally encountered Rhys at Pencader. There, persuaded by his uncle Owain, Rhys surrendered, was taken prisoner, and returned to England with Henry. At the Council of Woodstock on 1 July 1163 Rhys performed homage for Henry, Malcolm IV, and Prince Owain, and was thereafter allowed to return to southern Wales.60 The show of force had suﬃciently cowed Rhys, although Deheubarth itself would remain a persistent problem for the Angevin kings for years to come.61 The strategy of intimidation produced only limited results in the rest of Wales as well. By 1164, the Becket aﬀair was reaching crisis proportions, and the Welsh leadership perhaps saw an opportunity to rid itself of English rule. This time the diﬀerent princes combined their forces into a concerted eﬀort: Owain and Rhys, along with the chieftains of Powys, renewed attacks by sending Owain’s son David to set upon Tegeingl in the north. Henry was in Normandy at the time sitting in on conferences with Louis VII, Philip of Alsace, the new count of Flanders (d. 1191), and ambassadors from the court of Emperor Frederic Barbarossa (1152–1190). Among the latter Henry conversed with the archbishop of Cologne and secured a tentative agreement to marry one of his daughters to the duke of Bavaria.62 Upon hearing of the troubles in Wales, however, the king hurriedly returned to England in the early summer of 1165. While Owain was convinced that Henry fought the Welsh out of pure hatred, Henry’s campaigns to assert his supremacy ﬁt in well with his governing style in the 1160s.63 A massive campaign culminated in an indecisive battle in the Vale of Ceiriog, and Henry ended up retiring back into

59

Fry, Castles of Britain and Ireland, 313. Expugnatio, 374; Ymagines Historiarum, I: 311; J. E. Lloyd, A History of Wales from the Earliest Times to the Edwardian Conquest, 2 vols. 3rd ed. (London, 1939), I: 511–13. 61 See J. Gillingham, “Henry II, Richard I, and the Lord Rhys,” Partitia 10 (1996): 225–236. 62 Torigini, 224. 63 See the letter from Owain to Thomas Becket in 1165; Correspondence of Thomas Becket, I: no. 57. 60

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England with twenty-two Welshmen as hostages. His frustration getting the best of him, they were all blinded. Among the victims were Owain’s sons David and Conan and Rhys’ sons Cadwallon, Cynwrig, and Maredudd.64 The larger implication of the campaign’s failure was an increase of both power and prestige on the part of the Welsh princes and a lessening of English control over the Welsh March. Yet the Welsh lack of allies hampered any eﬀort to secure a prolonged independence. Several times Owain tried enlisting the military aid of Louis VII without result. Prior to the 1165 campaign, Owain put himself at Louis’ command in a letter; after the campaign, he wrote to Louis again. This time he boasted of the victory at Ceiriog, stressed the fact that Henry had taken the brunt of the casualties, and once again asking for aid in order to punish the English for invading, as he opined, without cause. Finally, in 1168 Owain actually sent messengers to France to requesting a military alliance.65 All his eﬀorts were in vain, and it seems that Anglo-Welsh hostilities actually died down between 1168 and 1182, there were no notable Welsh incursions during the Great Revolt of 1173 and 1174, and indeed, for the rest of his reign Henry would come to rely upon Welsh mercenaries as a signiﬁcant component of his armies. The Continent Henry II pursued a foreign policy on the Continent that was quite similar to his ﬁrst moves in England: negotiation followed up by force when necessary. The main diﬀerence between the two geographical areas is simple: in England, the king was concerned about internal stability, while across the Channel his actions were all geared toward the acquisition of land. In August 1158, Henry arranged the betrothal of his eldest son Henry to Margaret, Louis VII’s daughter through his second wife Constance. The young Henry was but four years old, and Margaret still an infant. Her dowry was to be the Norman Vexin above the River Epte. The betrothal was only pos-

64 Hergest, 147; Peniarth, 63–4; Brenhinedd y Saesson, 167 and 320; Annales Cambriae, 50; Chronica, I: 240. 65 Acts of Welsh Rulers, no. 193 [October 1163 X July 1165]; no. 196 [November 1165 X March 1166]; and p. 23.

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sible through a great show of aﬀection and loyalty to King Louis, who was of course suspicious of his Angevin rival and not keen on simply gifting an important slice of territory. In order to persuade Louis, Henry’s chancellor Thomas Becket, being the collector of dues and ﬁnes as well as a personal friend of the king, imposed a betrothal tax upon the nobles and then rode to visit Louis with the proceeds: 200 knights, legions of servants all dressed in new clothes, gifts of silk and pelts, tapestries, twenty-four changes of clothing, and eight wagons. Two wagons were ﬁlled with nothing but barrels of ale— the mission was a success and the children were engaged. By 1158 Henry had established himself as the dominant force outside of Paris and had political control over Normandy, Anjou, and Maine as well the ancillary provinces of Touraine, Poitou and the county of Nantes. His success as a politician and general had so far been overwhelming. The sum of Henry’s military disappointments on the Continent thus far amounted to two non-actions at Arques and Torigini in 1151, where his army refused to ﬁght the forces of his overlord Louis VII, and the loss of Neuf Marché in the summer of 1152, an event for which Henry was not even present. Every other campaign had gone in favor of the Plantagenet: counterattacks in the Vexin to relieve Neuf Marché, the defeat of his brother Geoﬀrey not once but twice, ﬁrst in 1152 and again in 1156, seizing strong castles and winning over the loyalty of the citizens of Nantes. It is no surprise, then, that Henry had suﬃcient time and security to look after aﬀairs in England, Scotland, and Wales in the 1150s and 1160s. There was one area in which he had not yet asserted his lordship, however, and that was Aquitaine. Medieval Aquitaine was said to have been, in the words of one geographer, “an unstable area, caught between the French and English monarchies, a vast inorganic mass.”66 Henry spent some time there as duke and had in the summer of 1154 marched through Aquitaine to suppress rebellions, urged on, no doubt, by his strong-willed bride. Henry’s need to settle aﬀairs had been complicated by the rival claim of Eleanor’s former husband Louis VII. In addition, there was some question as to whether or not Henry could lay claim to the adjacent region of Languedoc, which had

66 X. de Planhol and P. Claval, A Historical Geography of France, trans. J. Lloyd (Cambridge, 1994), 178.

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traditionally been prized by the counts of Poitou. Centered on the cities of Toulouse, Carcassonne, and Narbonne, it was an extremely rich and fertile area with Toulouse as the centerpiece.67 When the Poitevin lords gained control over Bordeaux in the twelfth century they sought to acquire the valuable trade routes through Toulouse by way of hereditary right.68 The bloodline of Toulouse fell into dispute in 1093 with the death of Count William IV. William left no male heirs but a daughter, Philippa, the wife of William IX the Troubadour (d. 1126) and mother to William X (d. 1137), Eleanor’s father. This is a tale remarkably similar to that of Eleanor’s husband, for Henry himself claimed the throne of England through his mother Matilda, the daughter of Henry I. Just as the Angevin claim to England had caused a civil war, so too the dispute over Toulouse brought about political diﬃculties. William of Newburgh claims that William IX, needing money to pay for his extravagant living, pawned the city of Toulouse to Count Raymond V (d. 1194), the descendent of Raymond IV of St. Gilles (d. 1105).69 Raymond of St. Gilles was a famous participant in the First Crusade and became the ﬁrst Count of Tripoli, and he was also the brother of the heir-less William IV.70 The historical ties between Toulouse and Aquitaine were substantial enough for Henry II to assert his lordship there. If successful, he would receive control over much of Languedoc. In this he was naturally opposed both by Louis, who sought to contain Henry’s ever-growing empire, and Raymond V. The marriage of Henry and Eleanor made Louis and Raymond allies through necessity: in 1154 Raymond married Louis’ sister Constance, the widow of Stephen’s son Eustace.71 Although the French king had in 1141 asserted his own claim to Toulouse through Eleanor, the burgeoning power of Henry forced him to stand with his brother-in-law to oppose the Angevin’s designs. The army, which was probably the biggest of his entire reign, mustered at Poitiers in an attempt to cow Raymond 67 J. Given, State and Society in Medieval Europe: Gwynedd and Languedoc under Outside Rule (Ithaca, 1990), 19–24. 68 Warren, Henry II, 83–5. On the political development of Toulouse and the south, see G. Duby, France in the Middle Ages, 987–1460: from Hugh Capet to Joan of Arc, trans. J. Vale (Oxford, 1991), 230–4. 69 Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 121–2. 70 On Raymond’s legacy see H. E. Meyer, The Crusades, trans. J. Gillingham, 2nd ed. (Oxford, 1988), 67–8. 71 R. Benjamin, “A Forty Years War: Toulouse and the Plantagenets, 1156–90,” Historical Research 56 (1988): 26–7.

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V, but the count refused to submit, placing his conﬁdence in both his allies and the protective city walls of Toulouse.72 Henry’s only remaining alternatives were to abandon his claim for the moment or lead a military campaign from Poitiers to Toulouse. He chose the latter. The grand army arrived at Toulouse by the ﬁrst week of July, but while it was marching south Louis VII wisely decided to oppose Henry’s ambitions. A noose was tightening around the French demesne, the Angevin king was growing in power, and the addition of Languedoc would have eﬀectively cut oﬀ French access to Rome by reducing the routes to those running through Burgundy and Savoy. So as Henry settled down to survey Toulouse, Louis suddenly arrived and entered the city with what soldiers he could gather in a show of support for Count Raymond V. Due to the presence of Louis in the city, Henry, according to Roger of Howden, sat before the city for a long time and wasted his resources, then left the city having accomplished nothing.73 For the ﬁrst time in four years the French had successfully resisted the king’s expansionary moves. Yet contrary to Howden’s account, which was written many years later, Henry did put his army to some use by ravaging the land around the city, burning villages, sending raids north, and besieging, capturing and fortifying the city of Cahors. In late September, sickness penetrated the ranks of Henry’s army and it ﬁnally returned north and abandoned the campaign. Notably, King Stephen’s last remaining son, William of Boulogne, died from illness during the campaign, as did William of Mortaine, whose earldom passed to Henry II by virtue of William’s lack of an heir.74 The focus of historians upon the failure of the 1159 Toulouse campaign has in some measure pulled proper attention away from its immediate aftermath. Warren claims that the seizure of the country of Quercy was the only enduring accomplishment of his campaign, but there was more to Henry’s success than that.75 In the aftermath, 1160–1161 was in some ways a banner year for Henry II. Even without Toulouse itself Henry still controlled much of Languedoc and consolidated his wife’s claim to Aquitaine through

72

Torigini, 201–2. Chronica, I: 217; see also Ralph Diceto’s brief account in Ymagines Historiarum, I: 303. 74 Torigini, 203 and 206; Chronica, I: 217; Herbert of Bosham, Mats. III: 175–6. 75 Warren, Henry II, 87. 73

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ravaging operations, the taking of Cahors, and the fortifying of various castles. Moreover, Henry had retained the entirety of his continental lands and even added critical castles in the Vexin while ravaged Louis’ own demesne. He clearly had the upper hand, and when Louis agreed to a treaty in May 1160 it was disadvantageous to him. Henry used his newly-won gains as bargaining chips: he released Evreux and its castles in exchange for the French recognition of all the Angevin’s lands, including the southern lands outside of Toulouse. Toulouse highlights the biggest and most enduring point of contention between Henry II and Louis: the border region of the Vexin. According to the treaty, the Vexin could only be gained through a successful marriage between Henry’s son Henry and Louis’ daughter Margaret, whose betrothal had been secured in 1158. If the marriage occurred within three years, Henry would receive the Vexin to the beneﬁt of his son. The Knights Templar was to occupy the castles of Gisors and Neauﬂes-Auvergny and act as guarantors of the treaty. With both sides satisﬁed, oaths were taken and the treaty concluded, but very soon after relations soured once again. Three of the Templars, Robert de Pirou, Tostes de St. Omer, and Richard de Hastings, treacherously handed the castles over to King Henry. In his fury King Louis banished the knights from France; Henry, never one to refuse a gift, welcomed the knights into England and rewarded them handsomely.76 But the treaty itself was not voided, and on 2 November 1160 the toddlers Henry and Margaret were indeed married at Neuborg. Henry II took possession of his castles, and further provoked Louis by attacking Blois in 1161. 1161 and 1162, therefore, were the best of times for the English king and one of the high points of his reign. In spite of the disappointing campaign at Toulouse, Henry had managed to maintain nearly all of his territories, and he even made some important strategic gains near the heart of Louis’ domains. The two sides were again reconciled in September 1162 through the personal mediation of Pope Alexander III at Touci on the River Loire.77

76 The treaty is mentioned in Ymagines Historiarum, I: 305; and Torigini, 206. Although Warren claims that the stipulations were not recorded by the chroniclers, they are actually in Chronica, I: 217–18; otherwise, see Recueil des Actes de Henri II, II: 151–3; and Warren’s claim in Henry II, 88. 77 Eyton, Court, Household, and Itinerary, 57.

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In stark contrast to the activity of the preceding three years, 1162 was a year in which Henry II did not engage in any notable military endeavors. Most of his activity was concerned with the regulation and fortiﬁcation of castles. In January he received from Geoﬀrey de Mayenne the castles of Goron, Ambières, and Châteauneuf on the River Colme.78 By March, Henry had returned to England and held a conference at Dover with Thierry of Flanders to outline and conﬁrm the obligations owed to him.79 In May, Henry persuaded his friend and chancellor Thomas Becket to become the next archbishop of Canterbury. Becket was an appropriate choice for the position in Henry’s eyes, although his predecessor Theobald had probably never imagined the chancellor taking his place at the head of the English Church.80 Henry’s desire to see his friend consecrated stemmed from his desire for revenues from vacant bishoprics, soldiers raised from church lands, and perhaps a better rapport between church and state, but the move would soon be his undoing. Becket experienced a conversion experience after his consecration and within a year became a stubborn opponent of the Crown.81 In March 1166, following his struggles against the Welsh the previous year, Henry returned to Normandy and marched into Maine to quell the rebellions of William Talvas, count of Sées (d. 1171), and his grandson John, count of Ponthieu (d. 1191), both of whom were led in their aggression by Ralph de Fougères. The rebels were resisting the orders of Queen Eleanor, who had been left in charge of Normandy while Henry was on campaign in Wales, but their eﬀorts on the whole had been unsuccessful.82 Henry moved to strike the rebels and particularly Fougères, whom he had actually favored earlier in his reign. First, he received the castles of Alençon and La Roche Mabille from William and John, probably through nothing more than a show of force. In particular William Talvas symbolized the power shifts that had occurred since Henry’s accession to power in the 1150s: once an important ally of Geoﬀrey le Bel, he had now lost lands in both England and Normandy due to the rising power of Henry II.83 78 79 80 81 82 83

Torigini, 211–12. Eyton, Court, Household, and Itinerary, 60. Saltman, Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury, 168–9. See M. Staunton, “Thomas Becket’s Conversion,” ANS 21 (1998): 193–211. Ymagines Historiarum, I: 329. K. Thompson, “William Talvas, Count of Ponthieu, and the Politics of the

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Following these events, King Henry also acquired in 1166 the last major continental component of the Angevin Empire, the duchy of Brittany. Brittany was an attractive territory, lying as it does to the west of Poitou, Anjou, Maine, and Normandy, not to mention its coastline and proximity to such bastions of Angevin strength as LeMans, Angers, and of course the church at Mont-St. Michel. Henry’s favorable position as the count of Nantes enabled him to keep a close eye on Brittany to the north. The duchy itself had been in a state of virtual civil war for ten years as Conan IV struggled with his stepfather Eudo de Porhoët, the second husband of his mother Bertha, for control over Brittany. As old feuds within the duchy were resurrected Henry was the immediate beneﬁciary: already perched on the fringes in Nantes, it was no diﬃcult feat for him to assert his presence among the Bretons. For years it had been clear that Conan IV could not control the divided factions in Brittany, much less maintain good order.84 Henry II was a supporter of Conan, and in 1166 the duke agreed to the marriage of his daughter and heiress Constance to Henry’s son Geoﬀrey. The infants were of course too young to rule, so as his son’s guardian Henry became the de facto duke of Brittany and Conan took what Michael Jones has called the “twelfth-century equivalent of early retirement.” Henry thus ruled the duchy until Geoﬀrey reached suﬃcient age in 1181, and he continued as count of Nantes until Michelmas 1185, meaning that Geoﬀrey only held the combined Breton territories for less than one year.85 By the end of 1166 the Angevin Empire was complete in the sense that Henry II now had direct control over those territories he had inherited through blood or marriage, as well as the neighboring duchies and provinces that ensured a contiguous sphere of inﬂuence. To some extent he had been forced to ﬁght for his gains, but with the exception of Toulouse and Wales in 1165 while his opponents had proven tenacious Henry had in the end beaten them all. Following

Anglo-Norman Realm,” in England and Normandy in the Middle Ages, eds. D. Bates and A. Curry (London, 1994), 183. 84 J. A. Everard, Brittany and the Angevins: Province and Empire, 1158–1203 (Cambridge, 2000), 32–35. 85 Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 146–7; M. Jones, “The Capetians and Brittany,” Historical Research 63 (1990): 8; The Charters of Duchess Constance of Brittany and her Family, 1171–1221, eds. J. Everard and M. Jones (Woodbridge, 1999), 1.

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his acquisition of Brittany through the marriage of Geoﬀrey, the king could now look forward to a future of relative tranquility, and the late 1160s were characterized by the advent of innovative legal reforms such as the Assize of Clarendon and the Inquest of the Sheriﬀs, both enacted before the martyrdom of Thomas Becket in December 1170, an event that would bring a drastic end to Henry’s decisive personal rule.86 In the meantime, the king’s greatest concern was to keep a close eye on those who sought to undermine his strength and authority on the Continent, most particularly Louis VII and his allies. While Henry had busied himself afterward in Wales and Brittany Louis VII had watched from the sidelines as the English king dabbled in matters outside of the French realms of control, but in April 1167 fresh problems arose across the Continent. The ﬁrst monies promised by both Henry and Louis to the Holy Land in June 1166, raised through a special ﬁve-year tax, had been collected and deposited at Tours, awaiting transport to Jerusalem. Henry wished to send the funds through his own ambassadors; Louis sought control over everything because Tours belonged to the French. Meanwhile, there were new problems in Aquitaine. The treaty enjoined between the two kings in May 1160 stated that Henry was to retain control over Languedoc with the exception of Toulouse itself, but when Henry moved in 1167 to enforce his rule there he found opposition. The disputed region was Auvergne, ruled locally by Count William VIII (d. 1182), who had sworn to Henry in person that his nephew would succeed him. In early April 1167 William disinherited his nephew, leading Henry to demand he stand before a jury to explain himself. William refused, seeking instead to forge an alliance with King Louis. When Henry took the aﬀront personally and sent a body of soldiers south into Auvergne to ravage William’s lands, Louis responded by sending attacks into Normandy and burning several villages in the Vexin between Mantes and Pacy.87 Henry responded by returning to Normandy and attacking Chaumont, earning himself a truce that was to last until Easter 1168 (31 March). Next, Matthew, count of Boulogne (d. 1173), threatened to invade England on behalf of the French, forcing Henry to take preventative measures by stationing

86 87

Both documents are found in Select Charters, 167–72 and 174–7. For the wars of 1167–1168, our primary authority is Torigini, 230–9.

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an army on the English coast under the command of the justiciar Richard de Lucy.88 The invasion never materialized, but warfare did erupt in Brittany over Eudo de Porhoët’s claim to the duchy on the merits of his wife Bertha’s lineage (now deceased). Joining him was the viscount of Thouars as well as sympathetic nobles in the county of Leon, Aquitaine, and France. By the end of August, Henry had marched with an army as far as Leon, and the operation successfully concluded within just two weeks.89 By October, Henry was back in Normandy, mourning the death of his mother Matilda on 10 September, but in January 1168 he returned south to Poitou to confront revolts in Lusignan. After leaving Eleanor of Aquitaine in charge of the area he returned north.90 By March Henry was in Normandy once again, negotiating with Louis over the continuance of their August 1167 treaty, which was set to expire at the end of the month. In addition, the rebels in Poitou had captured some of Henry’s men and given those hostages to Louis. Henry demanded that Louis stop conniving with his vassals and that he release the hostages. Louis refused to do so without suﬃcient compromise on the part of the English king, and the best the conference could achieve was a continuance of the truce until 1 July. On 7 April, the truce was broken by the murder of Earl Patrick of Salisbury, once of the hostages and the man in charge of Henry’s army in Aquitaine.91 As a result, Henry spent the remainder of 1168 engaged in warfare against Louis and his allies, including Eudo de Porhoët, John, count of Ponthieu, and Philip of Flanders. His campaigns ranged across Flanders, Brittany, Normandy, and Perche, and his successes were enough to ﬁnally bring Louis to a sensible peace accord.92 Assisted by two Papal Commissioners sent to mediate in the Becket dispute, the kings agreed upon a treaty on 6 January 1169 at Montmirail in Perche. Louis agreed to release his hostages and Henry and his sons performed satisfactory acts of homage. These were designed to alleviate Louis’ fears of an overpowering Angevin Empire by dividing the inheritance of Henry II amongst his sons before his death. The core stipulations were as follows: 88

Gervase, I: 203. Torigini, 232. 90 Torigini, 235–6. 91 Warren, Henry II, 103. 92 The whole series of events is recorded in Torigini, 236–7; see Eyton, Court, Household, and Itinerary, 116–7, for a reckoning of the precise dates. 89

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1. Henry II paid homage to Louis and his son Philip II for Normandy; he would hold Touraine from the Count of Blois 2. Henry “the Younger” paid homage to Louis for Anjou, Maine, and Brittany, as well as the Stewardship of France 3. Geoﬀrey held Brittany from Henry the Younger 4. Richard paid homage to Louis for Aquitaine and Poitou, and was to marry Louis’ daughter Alice93 The treaty of 1169 should rightly be seen as the origin for all of Henry II’s future diﬃculties with his sons, the French, and an assortment of rebellious vassals that would move against him in the coming decade. By dividing his empire and assigning each portion to his young, impressionable sons the king was inviting trouble. At the start of 1169, however, the solution probably appeared rather tenable. It ended the warfare of the past year, and, most importantly, ensured that his domains would remain under the control of his own family. That his family would soon turn against him was, of course, an unknowable future development. Yet Henry did not believe that Louis’ intentions were completely selﬂess and to the good of all parties concerned, and his desire to maintain a strong grip on the empire remained. Although his sons had paid homage to the French king, Henry was still the man in charge of both governance of his realm and the maintenance and operation of his military forces. He returned to England in 1170, passed his Easter (5 April) at Windsor, and conducted the Inquest of the Sheriﬀs in London, in which all the sheriﬀs were to be deprived of oﬃce until such time as the barons could ascertain the truth of their respective revenues and payments to the Exchequer.94

93 For details of the treaty, see Torigini, 240–1; Gervase, I: 207–8; and Herbert of Bosham, Mats. III: 418–19. The conditions are also explained in a letter from John of Salisbury to Bartholomew, bishop of Exeter (d. 1184); see The Letters of John of Salisbury, Volume Two, no. 288. 94 For the pertinent documents see EHD, nos. 47–49. The Inquest seems not to have been aimed at breaking hereditary connections in the oﬃce of sheriﬀ, however, and several former sheriﬀs resumed their employment; see J. Boorman, “The Sheriﬀs of Henry II and the Signiﬁcance of 1170,” in Law and Government in Medieval England and Normandy: Essays in Honour of Sir James Holt, eds. G. Garnett and J. Hudson (Cambridge, 1994), 273–4.

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chapter two The Conquest of Ireland

Henry II’s military success on the Continent during the 1160s was considerable; in contrast, his warfare against the Welsh had been lackluster and his eﬀorts to handle his new archbishop Thomas Becket were heavy-handed. After receiving the submission of Rhys ap Deheubarth at the Council of Woodstock in July 1163, Henry turned to judicial matters that would ultimately damage his excellent political reputation. At issue was Philip de Brois, a minor clerk who had murdered a knight and attacked a sheriﬀ, but was absolved of his crimes by bishop’s court at Lincoln. The sheriﬀ complained to Henry, who then proposed that Philip be tried before the royal courts. Becket, whom Henry expected to side with the Crown, intervened and prevented this from occurring. The dispute did not go away, for at the Council of Westminster in October Henry demanded that any clerk accused or convicted of great crimes should be sentenced by royal courts. Becket agreed with the king in principle but with the caveat “saving my order,” a convenient dodge that confused the issue and denied Henry full satisfaction. As a result, in January 1164 the king issued the Constitutions of Clarendon, decrees stating, among other things, that clerks were to be tried by both royal and ecclesiastical courts but sentenced in the royal court only. Urged by Alexander III and his cardinals to take a paciﬁstic position, Becket agreed to this in order to promote good order in the realm. Many churchmen and Becket’s own monks at Canterbury murmured their disagreement with his having abandoned age-old legal protections for the church in one swift moment, and soon Becket recanted his position at the Council of Northampton in October 1164.95 Henry now took a hard line with his archbishop: he demanded not only Becket’s consent to the Constitutions but also made a series of punitive ﬁnancial demands that included Becket’s return of monies from the castelleries of Eye and Berkhampstead (which he paid) as well as monies borrowed for the former chancellor’s military operations on the Toulouse campaign of 1159. Finally, Henry demanded receipts from all the vacant bishoprics and abbeys held by Becket during his days as chancellor—the total amount required of Becket exceeded 30,000 marks, an outrageous and wholly unrealistic number.96 This 95 96

For the pertinent passages relating to these councils, see EHD, nos. 124–29. W. Urry, Thomas Becket: his Last Days (Stroud, 1999), 11.

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was a remarkable claim, for in maintaining vacancies Becket had acquired great funds for the king and the chancellor had, of course, only done Henry’s bidding in this regard. Now, however, the issue inﬂamed his rival bishops in England who had either felt slighted by Becket’s swift rise to the archbishopric or those who were merely jealous, and the list of bishops allied with Henry against Canterbury included Gilbert Foliot and Roger de Pont, archbishop of York (d. 1181). Foliot in particular was unwavering in his attacks on Becket, accusing him of betraying the Church by taking money from it with which to wage bloody war.97 Facing imminent arrest, Becket chose to ﬂee. On 14 October 1164 the archbishop sneaked out of Northampton in the disguise of a Gilbertine lay-brother, taking only one servant and his pallium and seal. Several days later on 2 November, Becket left Sandwich in a small skiﬀ and landed at Oye, Flanders, outside of Henry’s jurisdiction on the Continent, and began his life of exile.98 Negotiations between the king and archbishop became severely strained for the next six years. The dispute between Henry II and Thomas Becket had less to do with legal wrangling than the nature of the relationship between church and state. Henry wanted control and even dominance over his empire and tolerated little by way of rebellion. He had acted towards Becket as he had against all those who had previously chosen to oppose him. First, Henry made clear his will, second, he allowed each man to submit and reconcile himself with the court; failing this, Henry took stern measures to assert his control. The diﬀerence between Henry seizing a rebel’s castle, demanding a vassal’s homage, or requiring a bishop’s obedience was slight. Thomas Becket met his end in his own cathedral on 29 December 1170. The immediate cause of his death was the crowning of Henry II’s son Henry ‘the Younger,’ which occurred at Westminster Abbey on 24 May that same year. Under normal circumstances the Archbishop of Canterbury would have performed the ceremony, but as Becket had been in exile since 1164 the young Henry was crowned by Roger de Pont, who was aided in the act by Hugh de Puiset, bishop of Durham (d. 1195), Walter, bishop of Rochester (d. 1182), 97 D. Knowles, The Episcopal Colleagues of Archbishop Thomas Becket (Cambridge, 1951), 68–71. For Foliot’s attack see Correspondence of Thomas Becket, I: no. 109; or, Letters and Charters of Gilbert Foliot, no. 170. 98 F. Barlow, Thomas Becket (Berkeley, 1986), 115–16.

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Gilbert Foliot, and Jocelin, bishop of Salisbury (d. 1184).99 Other bishops such as Roger of Worcester (d. 1179) refused to so violate Canterbury’s primacy. When Henry and Becket ﬁnally reconciled at Fréteval on 22 July, the king promised Becket the opportunity to recrown young Henry upon his return. Once back in England on 30 November, however, the archbishop produced letters from Alexander III (drawn up at Becket’s request) that authorized his excommunications of Gilbert Foliot and Joscelin as well as the suspension of Roger of York and others who had assisted with the young Henry’s coronation.100 The bishops were unable to reason with Becket and so sought out Henry II in Normandy. Hearing the news, the king exclaimed, “What miserable drones and traitors have I nourished and promoted in my household, who let their lord be treated with such shameful contempt by a low-born clerk!”101 Four knights, Reginald ﬁtzUrse, William de Tracy, Hugh de Morville, and Richard le Bret, departed Henry’s court in response and began a hasty journey that ended with their grisly deed in Canterbury Cathedral. The crowning of young Henry had a secondary eﬀect of infuriating Louis VII because his daughter Margaret had not been crowned alongside his son-in-law. Louis’ method of complaint was to assemble an army and invade Normandy in the summer of 1170 to correct the slight. Henry II sailed to Normandy in response and the two sides were quickly reconciled at Vendôme when the king promised to conduct a second coronation ceremony for both young Henry and Margaret. While on the Continent, Henry II was struck by an illness, and the malady was so severe that he dictated his ﬁrst will that divided his lands amongst his children. The will followed in much the same fashion as had the treaty with Louis in January 1169: Richard received the lands belonging to his mother Eleanor, meaning principally Aquitaine; Geoﬀrey received Brittany; and young Henry received Normandy, Anjou, and Maine. All three were instructed to do homage to Louis VII for these lands. The child John, youngest of Henry’s sons, received a county in Mortaine but no gainful lands

99 Chronica, II: 4–5; Gervase, I: 219. This occurred in the tradition of the Capetian line in France, which had since the reign of Hugh Capet crowned a living successor. 100 Knowles, Episcopal Colleagues, 137. 101 Barlow, Thomas Becket, 235. The legendary phrase, “Will no one rid me of this turbulent priest?” is in reality apocryphal; see Urry, His Last Days, 66.

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to speak of, earning him the nickname “Lackland.”102 In November, Henry II had recovered and took an army into Berry to claim rights over the bishopric of Bourges, which he felt belonged to the duchy of Aquitaine. Given its proximity to the French demesne and its north-central location, Henry’s claim to Berry as an appendage of Guienne was perhaps spurious, although his acquisition of the castles Montmirail and St. Agnan from Henry de Vienne in the spring of 1169 did extend his inﬂuence into the contested lands. Regardless of legitimacy, an army led by Louis and Theobald, count of Blois (d. 1191), arrived at Bourges ﬁrst. Henry had already performed homage to them both and was politically outmaneuvered. A truce was therefore agreed upon and Henry, at least temporarily, rescinded his claim to Berry.103 Upon hearing of the murder of Becket in December, Henry reportedly shut himself in his room for three days and mourned the loss of his old friend.104 He did not return to England until 1 August 1171, no doubt wishing to keep his distance while news of Becket’s death swept through England and outraged the common population. Meanwhile, he busied himself with a series of defensive moves against the wrath of Rome that was sure to follow. He was in a diﬃcult situation, for no matter how innocent his intent may have been his words had spurred the four knights to their murderous deed. Ecclesiastical indignation against the king quickly manifested itself across the West and most severely when William, archbishop of Sens (d. 1176), placed an interdict on Henry’s continental lands in the spring of 1171. Alexander III and his cardinals mused over letters of outrage from religious and secular leaders alike, and excommunication became a common subject. Some damage control was in order, and the ﬁrst envoys from Henry’s court arrived in France in March 1171 to plead before Alexander III. These men were unsuccessful, but another group, which included of the abbot of Valasse and Richard Barre and Henry Pinchon, the archdeacons of Salisbury and Lisieux, convinced the pope to postpone his judgment until Henry could swear his penance in person.105

102 103 104 105

Chronica, Chronica, Letters of Chronica,

II: 5–6. II: 13–14. Arnulf of Lisieux, no. 72. II: 27–9; EHD, 771–2.

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The stipulation that Henry physically present himself for judgment oﬀered the wily king an opportunity in which procrastination played a major role. His penance would be easily delayed by a military expedition to Ireland. This was a campaign the king had been considering since 29 September 1155, where he laid out plans for an Irish invasion at a council in Winchester.106 The idea did not appear out of thin air but is said to have been conceived by Pope Hadrian IV (1154–1159) in the papal bull Laudabiliter. The controversy over the veracity of Hadrian’s bull has been rather intense, due not only to the vagaries surrounding the evidence, but also no doubt to the ubiquity of past and present Anglo-Irish hostilities. Regardless of his authority to actually invade the island, in 1171 the king saw a chance to improve his image in the eyes of Rome by settling the troubles of the Irish church.107 Henry II left Brittany for England in August 1171, spent two months gathering an army, and assembling a ﬂeet at Pembroke for the voyage across St. George’s Channel. He departed on 16 October and landed at either Waterford or Croch, not returning to England until 17 April 1172, a full seven-month absence.108 The political cause of English involvement was the forced exile of Diarmait Mac Murchada, king of Leinster, in 1166. Diarmait requested the assistance of English soldiers but Henry would not provide any of his own troops, although he did allow the Irish king to recruit what volunteers he could ﬁnd in England and Wales. The draw of potential Irish ﬁefs was strong and many soldiers agreed to ﬁght, the most notable recruit being Richard ‘Strongbow’ ﬁtzGilbert, earl of Clare/Hertford (d. 1217). Strongbow agreed to assist Diarmait in return for money and the hand of his daughter Aífe, which brought with it hereditary rights to Leinster itself.109 He obtained permission from Henry and launched his expedition to Ireland, which was heavily ﬁnanced by loans from the Jew Josce of Gloucester, in August 1170.110 The rapid success of Strongbow in taking Dublin soon became a concern to Henry as he pondered the possibility of losing

106

Torigini, 186; Ymagines Historiarum, I: 300–1; Gervase, I: 77. On the issue of Laudabiliter, see the appendix. 108 Torigini, 252. 109 Chronica, I: 269; M. T. Flanagan, Irish Society, Anglo-Norman Settlers, Angevin Kingship: Interactions in Ireland in the Late Twelfth Century (Oxford, 1989), 79–80. 110 The Jews of Angevin England: Documents and Records, ed. J. Jacobs (New York, 1977), 51–2. Jacobs argues that were it not for the loans the Irish expedition would not have been feasible. 107

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control over conquered lands to both his vassal as well as several other Anglo-Norman principals roaming about Ireland.111 In response, the king sequestered Strongbow’s lands, closed the English ports to Ireland, and ordered that all Englishmen who had gone to assist the Irish should return home by Easter 1171.112 Before they could return, Diarmait died and his rival Ruaidrí Ua Conchobair besieged Strongbow, now the rightful heir to Leinster, within the city of Dublin for over two months.113 Strongbow’s men were outmatched by Ruaidri’s warriors, and he was forced to appeal to Henry II for assistance on the basis of old diplomatic ties between England and Leinster. While avoidance of penance for his part in the murder of Thomas Becket undoubtedly played a major role, it was Strongbow’s situation that was the ultimate cause of Henry’s personal intervention in 1171 and oﬀered the king a convenient opportunity to assert his inﬂuence over Irish lands while sailing on a mission of succor for his endangered vassal.114 While Strongbow awaited the reinforcements, Gerald of Wales wrote that he and his supporters made a surprise sally out of Dublin and crashed into the Irish soldiers. The small band of less than two hundred men fought gallantly and routed the enemy, whom Gerald numbers at over 30,000 strong. Such a tale can scarcely be believed in its entirety and is more fantastic than Herodotus’ narrative of the Battle of Marathon. After English left Dublin the city was captured by O’Rouric, the one-eyed king of Meath. Strongbow sailed to England to meet with Henry II at Gloucester to conﬁrm the king’s military assistance, promising his fealty as well as the city of Dublin to the king in return for assistance, to which Henry assented. Before his departure for Ireland Henry made his way to St. David’s, pausing along the way to discipline some minor Welsh lords and take the castle Usk. The king arrived in Ireland on 18 October 1171, never once employing his soldiers in battle or siege because one by one the Irish

111 L. Hays and E. D. Jones, “Policy on the Run: Henry II and Irish Sea Diplomacy,” Journal of British Studies 29 (1990): 298–300. 112 M. T. Flanagan, “Strongbow, Henry II and Anglo-Norman Intervention in Ireland,” in War and Government in the Middle Ages: Essays in Honour of J. O. Prestwich, eds. J. Gillingham and J. C. Holt (Woodbridge, 1984), 67. 113 Flanagan, Ireland in the Late Twelfth Century, 167–8. 114 Flanagan, “Anglo-Norman Intervention in Ireland,” 77.

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lords made their voluntary submissions to the English king.115 By the time he left, most of the Irish nobles and bishops had submitted to his rule without a ﬁght. William of Newburgh wrote that the king subjugated the island “by the terror of his name, without bloodshed,” and some princes oﬀered tribute to Henry and delivered hostages back to England.116 Strongbow was relieved and Henry entertained several Irish princes at his Christmas court in Dublin that same year, “the king having now silenced all opposition by his presence.”117 While his absence in Ireland helped to sooth angered hearts over the Becket aﬀair, Henry also took the opportunity to address what had been the central concern of the 1155 bull Laudabiliter, the reform of the Irish Church. While the submission of the Irish princes had little to do with Hadrian’s bull, the submission of the Irish bishops and clergy most certainly did.118 As soon as Henry arrived in Ireland he “threw a religious aura round his new position” and played the role of reformer.119 Henry commanded that a synod be held at Cashel in 1172 to consider and evaluate the health and welfare of the Church in Ireland. Christian O’ Connarchy stood as the synod’s presider, and Ralph, an abbot in Shropshire, stood as Henry II’s representative.120 There, the bishops agreed to eight constitutions of reform and accepted the reformation as a blessing from the king of England.121 Henry II spent the early months of 1172 in Dublin and then Waterford, making arrangements for the lordship of Ireland. He granted to Hugh de Lacy (d. 1186) the lands of Meath, the city of Dublin, and the justiciarship of Ireland in exchange for the service of one hundred knights. Henry also granted Waterford and Wexford to Robert ﬁtz Bernard, left the kingdom of Leinster to Strongbow and his heirs, and ordered castles built in the east country.122 Henry’s

115

Expugnatio, 277. Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 169; Bartlett, Norman and Angevin Kings, 87. 117 Gerald of Wales’ account is Expugnatio, 280; see also A. J. Otway-Ruthven, A History of Medieval Ireland (London, 1980), 50. 118 F. X. Martin, “Diarmait Mac Murchada and the Coming of the AngloNormans,” in A New History of Ireland, eds. A. Cosgrove, T. W. Moody, F. X. Martin, and F. J. Byrne, 10 vols. (Oxford, 1976–2005), I: 91. 119 J. A. Watt, The Church and the Two Nations in Medieval Ireland (Cambridge, 1970), 38. 120 Idem, The Church in Medieval Ireland, 2nd ed. (Dublin, 1998), 34. 121 Expugnatio, 281–3. 122 Chronica, II: 33–4; Ymagines Historiarum, I: 350. 116

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army departed for Wales on 26 March, but the king himself, waiting for a fair wind, did not return to St. David’s until 17 April. To what degree this respite in the form of an invasion prevented his excommunication is unknown, but Henry’s conquest of Ireland clearly had some inﬂuence with Alexander. On 1 March, having heard of the arrival of papal legates Theodinus and Albert in Normandy, he sought to return to England and then the Continent to meet them. Contrary winds kept him at Wexford for the entire month of March— that Henry was delaying his appearance before the papal court is certainly a possibility for his lengthy stay in Ireland—but once he left Wales his journey to the Continent took only eighteen days. On 30 May he appeared in person before the papal legates at Avranches, and, accompanied by his wife Eleanor and the bishops of Rouen, Evreux, and Worcester, Henry received his penance for his role in the death of Becket. The judgment found him guilty of intemperance of word but not deed; consequently, he was not excommunicated and the interdict on his lands was lifted. In exchange for his absolution, Henry promised to become crucesignatus and travel to either Jerusalem or Spain within four years, as well as provide funds for the maintenance of 200 Knights Templar in the Holy Land.123 For the ﬁrst time, Henry had been forced to accept terms from a position of diplomatic weakness. He had long dictated events through force of will or arms, and every treaty yet concluded had been favorable to him in one way or another. Yet Becket’s death had sent a shrill of horror through Western Christendom. Henry’s capitulation at the feet of Pope Alexander proved to be just the opening the king’s enemies needed, and within months the Great Revolt against him would arise. Interestingly enough, Henry never explicitly invoked the privilege of Laudabiliter in his 1171 expedition, although the point remains important in the eventual justiﬁcation of English actions in Ireland.124 His dominant performance in Ireland probably had less to do with

123 For Henry’s purgation and Charter of Absolution, see Chronica, II: 35–7; and Ymagines Historiarum, I: 351–2. For speciﬁc studies see A. J. Duggan, “Diplomacy, Status, and Conscience: Henry II’s Penance for Becket’s Murder,” in Forschungen zur Reichs-, Papst- und Landesgeschichte: Peter Herde zum 65. Geburtstag, eds. K. Borchardt and Enno Bünz (Stuttgart, 1998), 265–90; and idem, “Ne in Dubium: The Oﬃcial Record of Henry II’s Reconciliation at Avranches, 21 May 1172,” EHR 115 (2000): 643–58. 124 Watt, Church and the Two Nations, 37.

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a papal bull than his swift movements and strength of his personality. Alexander III approved of the invasion after the fact and urged the king to purge the illicit and abominable practices in Ireland for the good of the English, the Irish, and Christendom. The pope issued three letters in September and October 1172 that supported Henry’s Irish activities and urged him to continue his humble work in the name of God: And so we exhort and beseech your majesty and enjoin upon you for the remission of your sins that in this work which you have so laudably begun you will even more intently and strenuously continue, so that, even as you have to the remission of your sins undertaken so great a task as regards that people, so also for the beneﬁt to their souls you shall be worthy of an eternal crown.125

In light of the recent papal schism and the overtures of antipope Calixtus III (r. 1178) towards state leaders, Alexander had a deﬁnite need for allies. Maintaining good relations with Henry was vital to his survival.126 Alexander later oﬀered a privilege of Ireland similar to that of Hadrian IV’s, which was read at a council at Waterford in 1173–4, and Henry’s conquest and reform of both the Irish Church and the country’s lands was fully accepted by Rome.127 In the end, Nicholas Brakespeare’s hopes of a reformed church in that country were in some way fulﬁlled through the English invasion, despite the fact that some of the older Irish monasteries were actually attacked and seized by various Norman nobles.128 After 1172, Henry II did not expend a great amount of thought or eﬀort on Eire. When he did, it was to call upon Strongbow and his other barons there for military assistance. These included Hugh de Lacy, who retained Meath and Dublin for the service of one hundred knights. Henry also gave the kingdom of Cork to Robert

125 Irish Historical Documents, 1172–1922, eds. E. Curtis and R. B. McDowell (New York, 1968), 21. Gerald of Wales also provides a useful record of all the relevant Irish documents in his later work on the conduct of princes; see De Principis Instructione Liber, ed. G. F. Warner, Giraldi Cambrensis Opera, VIII: 195–200. 126 G. Orpen, Ireland under the Normans, 1169–1216, 2 vols. (Oxford, 1968), I: 310. 127 Calendar of Documents Relating to Ireland: 1171–1251, ed. H. S. Sweetman, 2 vols. (London, 1875), I: 6–7; Watt, Church in Medieval Ireland, 30. 128 P. Ó. Néill, “The Impact of the Norman Invasion on Irish Literature,” ANS 20 (1997): 179. Minor ﬁgures were rewarded as well: Walter the Goldsmith received a small plot of land for one tenth of a knight’s fee; see Acta of Henry II and Richard I, no. 288.

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ﬁtz Stephen and Milo de Cogham for the services of sixty knights, although Henry kept the city of Cork for himself. He gave the kingdom of Limerick to Hubert ﬁtz Hubert and others in exchange for sixty knights’ service but, again, kept the city of Limerick for himself. Given that towns had formed a critical basis for his support during the recent rebellions, as well as their substantial revenue through fees and tolls, we can easily discern Henry’s interest in the Irish cities. Most of these grants of land were conﬁrmed again in May 1177 at a royal council at Oxford. In that year, however, there was to be a new twist: with the permission of Alexander, Henry created his son John king of Ireland.129 He insisted that his nobles holding Irish lands pledge their fealty not only to Henry but also John, and thereafter they owed knight service to both men. John’s kingship was a new approach to the lordship and reform of Ireland; rather than simply handing out ﬁefs to interested nobles, Henry had developed an interest in injecting his family into a leadership role. John was undeniably the apple of his father’s eye, and Henry showed great concern for his welfare. In 1177, however, John was only nine years old and would not become involved in Irish governance in any meaningful way until 1185.130 Good diplomatic relations between the papacy and England, at least on the matter of Ireland, persisted under Henry’s successors and ﬁnal approval of English rule there was cemented when Innocent III granted Ireland to then-King John as a vassal kingdom in 1215.131 Having now added Ireland to his domains, Henry II had by 1173 dominated nearly every region he had set his sights upon, and in those areas in which he had fallen short (Wales, Toulouse, the Vexin) he either received the homage of the magnates there or was in the process of obtaining the land by way of treaty. The indications are that the king, now with his days of conquest largely behind him, was ready to divide the responsibility for the maintenance of the Empire amongst his sons. That he did not move quickly enough in this regard was the trigger for the rebellion of his son Henry the Younger and the outbreak of the Great Revolt of 1173 and 1174.

129

Chronica, II: 133. S. Duﬀy, “John and Ireland: the Origins of England’s Irish Problem,” in King John: New Interpretations, 226–8. 131 See Orpen, Ireland under the Normans, I: 310; Watt, Two Nations in Medieval Ireland, 40. 130

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Yet we may forgive Henry II his delay because his sons were still of young ages: while Henry was the oldest at a robust eighteen, Geoﬀrey and Richard followed at ﬁfteen and fourteen, respectively, and John was too young to be of much consequence.132 None of the sons would demonstrate great generalship or soldiery during the revolts, and Henry II spent the bulk of his time ﬁghting more seasoned magnates from across his lands. The Great Revolt was the centerpiece of Henry II’s military career. It was huge in scope, constituting of six diﬀerent fronts (three in Normandy, one in Poitou, and one each in central and northern England) and multiple enemies including Louis VII, Philip, count of Flanders, Matthew, count of Boulogne, William, king of Scotland, Robert, earl of Leicester, and several other notable magnates and their armies. Henry’s campaigns to quash the resistance featured all the hallmarks of High Medieval warfare, including castle and town sieges, pitched battles, skirmishes, ravaging, relief actions, and the incorporation of mercenaries into the ranks of the feudal armies. Showcasing his abilities as a commander by directing armies and delegating authority, Henry defeated all the forces arrayed against him and, by the fall of 1174, emerged from the war stronger and more powerful than ever. The End of Louis VII In the fall of 1175, reports Roger of Howden, a mysterious and deadly disease broke out across England, killing seven or eight people a day. This was followed by a severe famine that struck not only England, but Anjou and Maine as well. Looking back, the misery was a grim foreshadowing of the ﬁnal period of Henry II’s reign in which success and satisfaction became disappointment and despair.133 Yet in 1175 such a dismal ending to the king’s enormously successful reign was unthinkable, for he had become arguably the most powerful leader in the West. Still, pockets of resistance remained as residual

132 Henry the Younger, however, appears to have been more involved in administrative aﬀairs than previously thought. I thank Matthew Strickland for letting me read his forthcoming article, “On the Instruction of a Prince: the Upbringing of Henry, the Young King,” in Henry II: New Interpretations, ed. C. Harper-Bill (Woodbridge, forthcoming in 2007). Professor Strickland is currently working on a more extensive study of young Henry as well, the ﬁrst major eﬀort on the subject since 1925. 133 Chronica, II: 85; Ymagines Historiarum, I: 406.

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eﬀects of the Great Revolt and of particular concern were the southern French provinces, the regions in which Henry had not actually waged warfare during the uprisings. Auvergne, Aquitaine, Poitou, and especially Berry became focal points of resistance, not so much against the king himself as against the terms of the Treaty of Mont Louis that demanded the reduction of illegal castles. In mid-1175, and then again after Easter 1176 (4 April), Henry sent his sons Richard, Geoﬀrey, and eventually young Henry to the Continent to clean up the mess. Richard in particular began to distinguish himself, receiving four castles through surrender and besieging and taking the castles of Aesse, Molineaux, the strong Neufchâtel-en-Bray, and the city of Limoges. Henry II himself ordered the destruction of several castles in England, including Leicester and Framlingham, both strategically important during the rebellions, and with the Assize of Northampton divided England into six judicial units.134 For some time, Henry II had looked to the construction of alliances through the marriage of his relatives. In 1169, his daughter Eleanor was given to Alfonso VIII (1158–1214) of Castile. He arranged the marriage of his sister Emma to David, son of Owain ap Gwynedd, in 1174. William II ‘the Good,’ king of Sicily (1166–1189), sent several notable magnates to England to ask for the hand of his daughter Joanna, and the two were married in Palermo on 13 February 1177.135 Henry’s reputation as a strong monarch would even lead to another political marriage after his death. Recognized as a major leader in the West, he became involved in international relations beyond his own territorial interests, and on Ash Wednesday 1177 (17 February), the king served as arbitrator over a territorial dispute between Alfonso VIII and Sancho VI ‘the Wise,’ king of Navarre (1150–1194) and Alfonso’s uncle. Henry deliberated with his barons and bishops over the matter and arrived at a judgment: because neither side had addressed the contentions of the other in its plea, both Sancho and Alfonso were rewarded the lands to which they laid claims. Good relations between England and the Iberian regions and Navarre in particular continued, and in 1191 his son Richard would marry Berengaria, the sister of Sancho.136 134 Chronica, II: 87–91 and 93–4; Ymagines Historiarum, II: 414. For the Assize, see Select Charters, 178–80. 135 Ymagines Historiarum, I: 334 and 414–15; Gervase, II: 82; Chronica, II: 95. 136 Chronica, II: 122–31; Ymagines Historiarum, I: 418–20. On the marriage, see

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By 1177, suﬃcient time had passed for Henry II to put the lingering memories of the rebellions behind him by forgiving the rebels and restoring their lands. With the exception of Poitou his domains had been quiet for nearly a year, and the earls, having pledged their loyalty and acting accordingly, were to be compensated. On 8 May, the king rewarded those who had remained loyal: the Stutevilles received the castles of Roxburgh and Edinburgh—a ﬁne prize after Roger’s valiant defeat of the Scots at Wark in 1174! To the Neville family he gave the castles of Norham and Scarborough, and Roger de Conyers was given the fortress of Bishop Hugh de Puiset, who had betrayed the king by giving ﬁnancial support to William the Lion.137 No doubt Henry saw the advantage in placating his nobles, rather than keeping them down. Therefore, after the feast of St. Hilary he restored to Robert of Leicester all his former lands in England and Normandy except for the castles of Montsoreau and Pacy-sur-Epte (near Bonneville), which he desired for his own use. Hugh of Chester, who had rebelled in Brittany, also received back his lands. Hugh Bigod, was the major exception during these restorations: Framlingham Castle was destroyed and Hugh died in 1177 while on crusade, having never recovered his lands in Norfolk from Henry II. Of great concern to Henry during these post-rebellion years was the maintenance of good order in England, and in this vein he also pursued the reforming of the Curia Regis. In 1178 he re-divided the English counties into four judicial districts, appointing to each district two clerks and three laymen—the origin of the Common Bench.138 The relative tranquility of 1176 and 1177 coincided with one of Henry’s longest stays in England during his reign. When he ﬁnally left on 18 August 1177 it was to deal once more with the French.139 At issue were the marriage agreements made between the Angevin

A. Goodman, “England and Iberia in the Middle Ages,” in England and her Neighbors, 1066–1453: Essays in Honour of Pierre Chaplais, eds. M. Jones and M. Vale (London, 1989), 74–5. 137 Chronica, II: 118 and 133–5. 138 See W. Stubbs, The Constitutional History of England, 5th ed., 3 vols. (Oxford, 1891), I: 524–5; and P. Brand, “‘Multis Vigiliis Excogitatam et Inventam’: Henry II and the Creation of the English Common Law,” HSJ 2 (1990): 205–6. 139 More study is needed on the reign of Louis VII from 1175 to 1180. In one of the more recent biographies, Ives Sassier devotes only 25 pages out of 473 to this period; see Louis VII (Paris, 1991).

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and Capetian houses. In November 1160, the young Henry had married Louis VII’s daughter at Neuborg, and, according to stipulations in the original betrothal treaty of 1158, he was to gain the Vexin as her dowry. There was also the matter of Richard and Alice, whose betrothal was decided in January 1169 at Montmirail after a year and a half of warfare against Louis and William of Auvergne. One of the stipulations was for Richard to pay homage to Louis for Aquitaine and Poitou and eventually marry Alice. Richard was only eleven at the treaty’s ratiﬁcation, but Louis had clearly been thinking ahead in his eﬀorts to regain Aquitaine. Between 1169 and 1177 several problems had taken precedence over the marital relations of the children, including Becket’s murder, the conquest of Ireland, and of course the Great Revolt. While Louis faulted Henry for postponing the marriage, the delay was fairly understandable. Yet in 1177, it was Henry forcing the issue by ﬁrst demanding the receipt of the Vexin and, second, claiming that Richard was to receive as Alice’s dowry the town of Bourges and lands in Berry. The evidence, however, indicates that Alice actually had no dowry in the ﬁrst place, and Warren has argued that there is no justiﬁcation for Henry’s claim.140 Nevertheless, at Winchester on 2 June the king called in the obligations of his barons in England and Normandy and prepared for war, even ordering ﬂeets to be assembled at Portsmouth and Southampton.141 For once, the tables were quickly turned against him. Instead of convening a council with Henry to discuss the problem, Louis appealed directly to the papacy, and in May the Cardinal Legate Peter, titular of St. Chrysogonus, arrived in France.142 He carried with him an order from Alexander III that Henry allow Richard to marry Alice; failing this, the entire Angevin Empire was to be placed under interdict.143 Henry received word of the legate’s

140 Warren, Henry II, 145. The lack of a dowry was noted by John of Salisbury in 1169; see Letters of John of Salisbury, Volume Two, no. 288. 141 Eyton, Court, Household, and Itinerary, 215. 142 Identiﬁed by I. S. Robinson as Peter of St. Grisogono; see The Papacy, 1173–1198: Continuity and Change (Cambridge, 1990), 169. 143 Christopher Holdsworth has found that papal legates feature prominently in peace negotiations during Henry II’s reign in 1167, 1172, 1174, 1177, 1180, 1182, 1187, 1188, and 1189, and this list excludes the numerous instances of legatine involvement with the Becket aﬀair; see “R. Allen Brown Memorial Lecture: Peacemaking in the Twelfth Century,” ANS 19 (1996): 10–11.

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arrival and, understanding the larger scope of the problem, postponed his feudal summons on 1 July. He then prepared to cross over to the Continent to negotiate, but the trip was delayed by over a month, ﬁrst by contrary winds and then to a reopening of a leg wound he had sustained in Norfolk in 1174 when a horse kicked him in the leg. Upon landing, he ﬁrst dispatched Geoﬀrey into Brittany to deal with some rebellious vassals, and the king then marched to Ivry in late August to put down Waleran de Ivry, who was holding the town against him.144 It was there on 25 September that Henry and Louis concluded an agreement, the Treaty of Ivry (elsewhere ‘Nonancourt’), in regards to the marriages of their children. Henry’s request for Alice’s dowry of Bourges and Berry was denied, and the men never did reach a compromise on the matter; instead, each agreed to respect each other’s lands except for those disputed areas. Technically, therefore, Henry was not violating treaty when he proceed afterwards to summon the Norman host, march into Berry, and take Châteauroux and the Limousin. In July 1178, Henry II returned to England, where he saw to the knighting of his son Geoﬀrey at Woodstock on 6 August.145 Throughout 1178 and 1179 Geoﬀrey handled himself ably, ravaging the lands of Guihomar, viscount of Leon, in order to ensure his father’s ducal control over western Brittany. Continuing military success remained the hallmark of the Angevins. By comparison, Henry’s old foe Louis was much worse oﬀ: in August 1179 he fell ill and deigned to have his young son Philip crowned king on the feast of the Assumption of Mary (15 August), but then Philip fell ill after getting lost during a hunting trip. With his only heir lying at death’s door, Louis crossed the Channel and traveled to the tomb of St. Thomas Becket in Canterbury to pray for healing.146 He was granted safe conduct by Henry II, who actually received his lord with great honor and escorted him to Becket’s shrine personally on 23 August. Philip recovered and was crowned at Rheims on 1 November 1179—the Capetian

144 Geoﬀrey was sent to Brittany several times at his father’s request: 1175–76, 1177–78, and 1179–81; see Everard, Brittany and the Angevins, 95–6. A charter in his and Henry II’s name was issued to Saint-Méen Abbey in this year; see Charters of Duchess Constance, 11. 145 Chronica, II: 150 and 166; Ymagines Historiarum, I: 426. 146 From three wives Louis had received ﬁve daughters and only one son: Mary and Alice from Eleanor; Margaret and Alice from Constance of Castile; and Agnes and then ﬁnally Philip from Adela of Champagne.

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line would live on, and Canterbury Cathedral received from France an annual payment of one hundred barrels of wine so long as he lived.147 By the dawn of 1180 Henry had been king of the English for a little over twenty ﬁve years and was, as he had been in 1156, 1161, 1169, and 1175, in a commanding political and military position over France.148 While in residence at St. Denis, Louis fell prey to a paralytic illness, lost the feeling in his right side, and consequently missed his son Philip’s coronation. Instead, Philip was served by Henry the Younger, who carried a golden crown, and Philip of Flanders, who wielded the coronation sword. The latter would prove to be most inﬂuential over the policies of the fourteen-year old Philip, and with Louis stricken by illness his son began making the major decisions for France. Citing his father’s illness and inability to use good judgment, King Philip deprived Louis of his royal seal and the reign of that monarch was for all intents and purposes commuted.149 Philip of Flanders was one of the oldest, most wizened men at court and his inﬂuence was felt immediately when, on 28 April 1180, King Philip married the ten-year old Isabella of Hainaut, daughter of Philip of Flanders’ sister Marguerite. Afterwards, the new queen was crowned (and Philip recrowned) at St. Denis on 29 May by the bishops of Sens, Paris, and Orléans. The wedding of Philip and Isabella caused a whole host of problems in France. Philip of Flanders beneﬁted by having a relative in the royal family and gave as Isabella’s dowry the region of Artois, further strengthening the relationship between Flanders and France.150 The prerogative of William, archbishop of Rheims (d. 1202), over royal coronations, however, had been violated; moreover, both William and the Queen Mother Adela were of the house of Champagne,

147 On Guihomar, see Torigini, 281; and Chronica, II: 192. Thereafter, Guihomar and his wife went on crusade; see Warren, Henry II, 563. On Louis and Philip, see J. Bradbury, Philip Augustus: King of France, 1180–1223 (London, 1998), 38–9; Torigini, 282–3; Chronica, II: 192–3; and Ymagines Historiarum, I: 432–3. Henry generously granted Christ Church freedom from carriage dues for this wine; see Acta of Henry II and Richard I, no. 70. 148 On the comparison, see V. Moss, “Normandy and England in 1180: the Pipe Roll Evidence,” in England and Normandy in the Middle Ages, 187. 149 Ymagines Historiarum, II: 6. 150 J. W. Baldwin, The Government of Philip Augustus: Foundations of French Royal Power in the Middle Ages (Berkeley, 1986), 14–16.

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which now saw its prestige lessened in the specter of Flemish inﬂuence over the young king. As a result, the Champagne party did not attend Philip’s wedding, the consummation of which triggered two events of military import. First, Adela of Champagne began fortifying the castles in her lands as a precaution against the ambitions of Flanders. The young Philip promptly ordered the lands of his mother seized, collected 3,000 soldiers from his new ally Baldwin of Hainaut, and Adela was forced to ﬂee to safety with her brother Theobald of Blois. Never one to miss a chance to weaken French power, Henry II landed in Normandy shortly before Philip’s wedding and met with Adela and Theobald, who swore their conﬁdence in him through oaths and the giving of hostages. Satisﬁed, Henry summoned the knights of Normandy as well as England in order to invade France on behalf of the Queen Mother.151 The army was never put to use, for Henry and Philip made peace together between Gisors and Trie on 28 June. The legal holdings of each king as stipulated in the 1177 Treaty of Ivry were reaﬃrmed, and Henry renewed a moneyﬁef contracted between himself and Philip of Flanders by receiving Philip’s homage and promising 1,000 marks of silver for the service of 500 knights. Regarding the rights of Adela and the house of Champagne, Philip promised to pay his mother a daily pension of £7 Paris and restore her dowry lands to her upon the death of Louis. Obviously aware of his impending death, Louis VII divided his wealth among the poor of France before expiring at Paris on 19 September 1180, three months after the peace between the Angevins, French, and Flemings. He was buried at the Cistercian monastery at Barbeaux.152 The military legacy of Louis is not very praiseworthy, and for nearly thirty years he had been consistently outmaneuvered by his vassal Henry II. Could the English king now contend with the aspirations of the young Philip Augustus? The Death of Henry the Younger The death of Louis VII brought about a new phase in the political landscape of Western Europe. Under his reign, France had been

151 152

II: 7.

Torigini, 289–90; Chronica, II: 196–7. Catalogue des Actes de Philippe-Auguste, no. 1; Chronica, II: 197–8; Ymagines Historiarum,

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able to maintain its structural integrity but had made few gains outside of the Ile-de-France. Whenever it appeared that Louis had gained an advantage, such as his relief of Toulouse in 1159 or the intrigue behind the Great Revolt, Henry II had each time managed to ﬁnd another way to impose his will in disputed areas. By the French king’s death in 1180 Henry had been making serious inroads into Berry and was consolidating his rule in the south, using Richard as a tool of his overlordship. But following the Treaty of Gisors there was little left for which to ﬁght, so the English king busied himself by attending to matters of eﬃcient governance. In December 1180 at LeMans, and then again in England in January 1181, assizes of arms outlined the speciﬁc military equipment to be held at all times by freemen in Henry’s domains. Both Philip II and Philip of Flanders, thinking it a sound idea, ordered similar assizes in their own domains.153 Ranulf de Glanville (d. 1190), the knight who had captured William the Lion at Alnwick in 1174, was appointed justiciar. A series of statutes erroneously attributed to Glanville were issued in 1181, and in them many of the laws ordered by William the Conqueror were reaﬃrmed.154 These included measures to protect citizens on the Sabbath, laws stating the punishment of false clerks, thieves, and murderers, and royal policy towards the practice of usury and the social position of the English Jewry. Henry II’s ability to tend to his own aﬀairs was largely a result of warfare between France and Flanders, all of it a consequence of Philip of Flanders’ ambitious eﬀorts to gain land during the early reign of the young new king. Frustrated by the intrusions of Henry in favor of Champagne, Count Philip took matters into his own hands. Seeking to lay claim to the lands inherited through his wife, namely, Amiens, Vermandois, and Valois, he formed a warlike alliance with Stephen, count of Sancerre (d. 1191). Count Stephen, who was in fact King Philip II’s uncle, paid homage to Count Philip for the castle of St. Brice. Towards the end of 1181, Count Philip marched into and ravaged the lands of Raoul, count of Clermont-en-Beauvais

153

Chronica, II: 253. The authorship of Glanville was later attributed to the laws, Tractatus de Legibus et Consuetudinibus Regni Angliae qui Glanvilla vocatur, perhaps by the justiciar’s advisors; see F. West, The Justiciarship in England, 1066–1232 (Cambridge, 1966), 61–2. Ranulf died ﬁghting with Richard I at the siege of Acre; see Domesday Descendants II: Pipe Rolls to Cartae Baronum, ed. K. S. B. Keats-Rohan (Woodbridge, 2002), 478. 154

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and Philip II’s constable, as well as Noyon and Senlis. Peace was arranged in 1182 and Count Philip received Vermandois, but when his wife Elizabeth died on 26 March 1183 that claim disappeared. In the absence of a male heir, Philip II was quick to claim the territory returned to the Crown.155 Henry II worked to broker the peace between king and count, and Philip of Flanders ultimately relinquished his claim to Vermandois.156 Yet beyond oﬀering advice and support, Henry II largely stayed out of the fray until his son Henry started to get too close to the new French king. Although the chronicle references are vague, it appears that Henry the Younger was taking advantage of his friendly relations with Philip and looking for ways to acquire portions of his father’s lands with French assistance. The chronicler Ralph Diceto writes that the brothers Henry, Richard, and Geoﬀrey all lent military assistance to King Philip, Hugh III, count of Burgundy (d. 1191), and the Queen Mother during 1181. Their combined forces eventually caused Count Philip to ﬂee and seek safety within a tower at Crêcy. Whether all three sons were involved is questionable, however, because when Roger of Howden recorded the king’s trip to Normandy that year he named only young Henry as the culprit. The son denied any misdoings and Henry II, ever the forgiving father, promised Henry the services of one hundred knights and a stipend for his and his wife’s overseas expenses.157 On 22 February 1182, Henry II held a council in Waltham (Hampshire) in order to make out his will. His ﬁrst will, made out in the midst of a severe illness in the summer of 1170, did not reﬂect the enormous changes in the king’s family during the 1170s and needed to be revised. The will is recorded by Gervase of Canterbury and is most striking for what it does not say. Henry arranged for portions of his estate to be used for crusading eﬀorts in the east, and much of the document parcels out funds for Cistercian, Carthusian, and Cluniac houses in England, Normandy, and Anjou. No lands or wealth, however, are disbursed to his sons, and the only refer-

155 Ymagines Historiarum, II: 8–9; Chronica, II: 267; mentioned brieﬂy in Gervase, I: 297. See also Baldwin, Government of Philip Augustus, 17–18; and W. H. Hutton, Philip Augustus (Reprint, London, 1970), 34–5. Available scholarship on the FrancoFlemish war of 1181 appears to be limited and is barely touched in the standard biographies of Philip II. 156 As evidenced in a letter of Henry II in De Principis Instructione Liber, 189–90. 157 Chronica, II: 266–7.

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ences to his family are injunctions for the legal conduct of both them and the will’s executors.158 Henry may have thought that the treaty of 1170, combined with the peace made at Mont Louis in 1174, signiﬁed his intentions towards his sons and did not warrant repetition. Yet tensions between the brothers had been mounting, and Henry II learned of their disunity when the family spent the Christmas of 1182 together at Caen. He ordered Richard and Geoﬀrey to pay homage to Henry the Younger, and while Geoﬀrey obliged without complaint Richard refused. The stated cause of their friction was Richard’s fortifying of the castle of Clairvaux, which lay in an area of Poitou traditionally controlled by the count of Anjou. Anjou was young Henry’s birthright, upon which he saw Richard to be infringing. Warren has suggested that this may have been a convenient excuse while the true reason for the sudden animosity was young Henry’s ambitions towards Aquitaine. Despite Richard’s successful warfare in the south he was ineﬀective in terms of diplomacy, and the barons had not united behind his governance. In the summer of 1182, some of them threw in with young Henry.159 This dispute over homage was also a consequence of the sons’ prior oaths: in 1169, Richard had paid homage to Louis VII for Aquitaine, and in 1174, Richard and Geoﬀrey paid homage to their father. At no point had Richard ever paid homage to one of his brothers for anything, much less Aquitaine, which Richard held by virtue not of the house of Anjou but through his mother Eleanor. The result of the inﬁghting was a renewal of Angevin family violence. Richard left his father’s court in January 1183 and withdrew to Poitou, building castles and fortifying others in preparation for war. He was pursued there by Geoﬀrey and young Henry, who, having declared himself an ally and benefactor of Poitou, brought several rebellious Poitevin counts and their retinues along for the trip. Young Henry traveled of his own accord and initiated warfare against Richard, of which we are lacking any details save for Roger of Howden’s comment that Henry inﬂicted many losses on his brother.160 Geoﬀrey, on the other hand, had been commissioned by

158

Gervase, I: 298–300. Warren, Henry II, 587. For the outbreak of rebellion see the accounts in Chronica, II: 274; Ymagines Historiarum, II: 18; and Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 233. 160 Ymagines Historiarum, II: 19; Chronica, II: 274–5. While treacherous, the magnates’ behavior was understandable given that young Henry was himself a king and, 159

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his father to assemble the barons of Poitou and Aquitaine at Mirebeau in order to sort out their alliances with his sons. Instead, Geoﬀrey entered Brittany and rebelled against his father—history was beginning to repeat itself in the Angevin family.161 Matters in Brittany had been stewing since 1182, when Henry II had sent an army to burn down the castle of Rennes, and in 1183 a consortium of Breton nobles joined Geoﬀrey alongside a host of hired Brabanters.162 This army invaded northeastern Poitou and began to ravage it, and another betrayal occurred shortly afterwards. Now left with only three sons who purported to do his bidding, Henry II allowed young Henry to travel to Limoges in order to hold a peace conference between the brothers. Geoﬀrey traveled to Limoges ﬁrst and entered the city. Arriving next were Henry II and Richard, perhaps traveling together. Two accounts, neither mutually exclusive, state that the king either wished to combat his sons’ wicked designs or that Richard himself called upon his father for military assistance.163 Had young Henry simply been at odds with Richard over the issue of homage there might have been reconciliation, or at the very least a rejoining with the elder Henry. Such was not the case: Henry had been hatching plans for years that involved the gradual absorption of his brothers’ lands and was not prepared to relinquish what could be a favorable opportunity. As Richard and Henry II approached the gates of Limoges, a shower of arrows descended upon them, and a knight standing next to the king was wounded. The full treachery of the brothers Henry and Geoﬀrey was ﬁnally visible to their father, but doubt still lingered in his mind. Perhaps Henry refused to believe that his sons had ordered the garrison to ﬁre upon their father, and he evidently managed to enter the city and conduct some sort of negotiations. At one point in their discussions another volley of arrows descended upon the king from the citadel of St. Martial; one arrow ﬂew directly at the king’s chest but was luckily intercepted by the

at the time, the likely successor to the throne of England; see M. Strickland, “Against the Lord’s Anointed: Aspects of Warfare and Baronial Rebellion in England and Normandy, 1075–1265,” in Law and Government in Medieval England and Normandy, 78–9. 161 The tradition of revolt would outlive Henry’s sons; see the general discussion in M. Aurell, “Révolte nobiliaire et lutte dynastique dans l’empire Angevin (1154– 1224),” ANS 24 (2001): 25–42. 162 Torigini, 302. 163 Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 233; Chronica, II: 275.

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lifting head of his mount. Henry II departed the city to resume negotiations from a safer locale. The tenor of Henry II’s relationship with his sons had dramatically changed in the period between 1174 and 1183. During the Great Revolt, the king was more than eager to send armies against his sons, but in 1183, approaching the age of ﬁfty, Henry was more interested in reconciliation and compromise. Several diﬀerent considerations were at work. First, although the sons had again gathered in discontented nobles, it was Geoﬀrey and young Henry leading the action themselves. While this was abhorrent to the elder king it was nonetheless preferable to their alliance with his overlord the king of France or powerful semi-independent vassals such as the king of Scotland or the count of Flanders. This was strictly a family dispute, albeit a violent one, and Henry perhaps felt able to sort out the problems for the beneﬁt of his empire and everyone involved. Second, the military threat to Henry was not as severe as it had been in 1173 and 1174. Henry the Younger, after all, did not possess any major lands because the Treaty of Mont Louis had only provided him with annual revenue and two castles in Normandy. Geoﬀrey and Richard possessed greater lands in Brittany and Aquitaine from which to draw troops, but in 1183 Richard had not himself rebelled and Geoﬀrey, though acting Duke of Brittany since 1181, still had to contend with his father’s control of Nantes and the inﬂuence that position held with the southern Bretons. This mitigating factor is evidenced by Geoﬀrey’s need to hire mercenaries to round out his army in 1183. Finally, Henry II had not actually embarked upon a major campaign since 1174. Most of his eﬀorts between the Great Revolt and 1183 were small-scale and aimed at the destruction of certain castles or the expression of royal authority. When he did levy the Norman host in 1180 to defend the rights of Adela of Champagne, negotiations with Philip II ended the need for conﬂict. With these and the other factors in mind, it is not altogether surprising that Henry II decided against a campaign against his two sons and sought to negotiate instead. It would be a diﬃcult learning experience for the elder king. After the events at Limoges Henry sent envoys to meet with young Henry, who were slain by the Limoges garrison. Envoys sent to Geoﬀrey were likewise assaulted: Jerome de Musterol was stabbed in the head while Oliver ﬁtz Ernest was thrown oﬀ a bridge into the water, all while Geoﬀrey looked on. The ﬁnal blow arrived in the form of

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Brabanter bands hired by Philip II, viscount of Aimar, and Raymond, count of Turenne, who entered the Limousin and ravaged about in the cause of the young Henry.164 Negotiations had clearly failed and the crisis was deepening. Perhaps with a heavy heart, Henry II at last turned to warfare. He was fortunate at this moment that Richard decided to return to Aquitaine to campaign successfully against the barons there, for this allowed Henry to focus his eﬀorts. In May 1183, he invested Limoges, and his sons’ money and provisions quickly began to disappear.165 In ensuing days they sought to acquire additional funds. Geoﬀrey looted the shrine of St. Martial and used the gold and silver to pay the wages of his Brabanters. Young Henry left the city and joined in the attacks in Aquitaine but later returned and tried to reenter Limoges, only to be prevented from doing so by its citizens. Running low on supplies, he sacked the tomb of St. Andemar in Quercy and soon after was stricken with illness “by the judgment of God”: it was an attack of dysentery, a “ﬂux of the bowels.”166 He died on 11 June 1183, and the rebellion around him promptly collapsed. He had been the lynchpin holding the divergent rebels together, yet they had fought not on his behalf but rather for the opportunities that the rebellion presented. After his death his former allies returned home or gave up the ﬁght: with the experienced armies of Henry and Richard now controlling Poitou and Aquitaine there was little chance of success. Geoﬀrey returned to Brittany and made peace with his father before the year was out, and Limoges was surrendered on 24 June. Henry II’s empire was once again at peace, but with the intrusion of Philip II of France into Angevin aﬀairs the specter of conﬂict remained. The Wars against Philip Augustus With Henry the Younger now dead, Henry II had to disperse his inheritance among his other sons. The most likely choice was Richard: as the oldest son remaining, he was to received Normandy, Anjou, and Maine. Geoﬀrey would keep Brittany, and Richard’s former 164

Gillingham, Richard I, 73–4. Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, I: 293. 166 Chronica, II: 276–9; Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 233. Henry’s death is also noted in the Angevin chronicles Chronicæ Sancti Albini Andegavensis and Breve Chronicon Sancti Florentii Salmurensis, in Chroniques des Églises D’Anjou, 44–5 and 193, respectively. 165

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lands in Aquitaine would pass to John, who had no lands of his own save for the promise of a future kingship in Ireland. While the plan sounded reasonable to the elder king, who had worked out a system of prioritization based on age, Richard did not accept his terms. Through years of ﬁghting in the south, Richard had actually grown quite fond of Aquitaine and refused to relinquish the duchy, even if John paid him homage for it.167 Henry grew angry at his refusal and suggested that John ought to take Aquitaine for himself. While the king was busy mediating the renewed conﬂict between Philip II and Philip of Flanders in summer 1184, John tried to do just that by marching with Geoﬀrey and a Breton army into northern Poitou.168 Richard responded with attacks into Brittany, and peace was not made until nearly Christmas 1184, but it was tenuous at best and the matter of inheritance remained unsolved.169 All of these territorial disputes wore greatly on the mind of Henry II, who, in the years following the second rebellion of his sons, seemed anxious to live out the remainder of his reign in peace. His outreach even included paying homage to Philip II on the feast of St. Nicholas (6 December) 1183, something that he had not done to that point. By this point, Henry II’s days of conquest were long over. The only moments in which he levied armies were to defend the rights of his vassals, protect his borders, and settle disputes between others. He had not mobilized soldiers by his own volition since October 1177, when he marched on Châteauroux and Limoges; since then, he had fought once at the request of Adela of Champagne and again on behalf of Richard in order to settle a rebellion. In all other cases, he sent his sons to police the duchies granted to them. In July 1184, Henry ﬁnally summoned an army again when he marched to Worcester to threaten Prince Rhys with invasion for warfare on the March that had been raging since 1182. In that year, several younger Welsh nobles assaulted the castle of Abergavenny and burned everything except its great square keep; then, they murdered Ranulf Poer, sheriﬀ of Herefordshire, and were only put down when Ranulf de Glanville brought an army south to restore peace. King Henry himself did not campaign into Wales, for Rhys met him at Worcester

167 168 169

Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, I: 308–12. Torigini, 311; Gervase, I: 309. Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, I: 319–20.

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and oﬀered hostages as surety that he would punish those responsible for the violence.170 This was par for the course, for whether or not he actually conducted warfare in Wales, the result was always the same: the princes made promises and oﬀered gifts, which Henry accepted in hopes of a placid region. In military terms, however, the actual subjection of Wales was a problem left to his successors Richard, John, and the later Plantagenet kings, including Edward I.171 1185 ushered in new developments that would return Henry II to the personal conduct of warfare. The year began with the reception of Heraclius, patriarch of Jerusalem (d. 1191), who had traveled west to plead for military assistance with which to ﬁght the ambitions of Saladin in the Holy Land. Henry and Philip II promised material support in the form of a three-year tax. On 31 March, John was knighted and sent to Ireland with Ranulf de Glanville by his side, and in the same year Henry managed to convince the new pope Urban III (1185–1187) to permit John’s coronation as king of that country. Now all three of his sons possessed inheritances of land, a development notable enough to warrant mention in the oftenabbreviated Angevin chronicles.172 John was received well enough by John Cumin, bishop of Dublin (d. 1212) and built three castles at Tibrach, Archﬁnan, and Lismore. Yet the Irish quickly wearied of the insolent newcomer who laughed at their beards, and when John became greedy and refused to pay his mercenaries their wages they abandoned him.173 He returned to England somewhat dispirited on 17 December. John’s Irish adventure, however, had provided Henry II with an opportunity: he sent Geoﬀrey into Normandy and gave him the county of Nantes. With John having a kingdom of his own, Warren suggests that Henry was now considering turning young Henry’s former inheritance over to Geoﬀrey instead of Richard. As

170 Chronica, II: 290; Lloyd, History of Wales, I: 568–9; on Abergavenny see Fry, Castles of Britain and Ireland, 297. 171 Ymagines Historiarum, I: 397–8. In 1172, Rhys was created justice of south Wales, perhaps because his lands lay over the route to Ireland; see A. J. Roderick, “The Feudal Relation between the English Crown and the Welsh Princes,” History 37 (1952): 205. 172 John of Marmoutier describes them as such: Ricardus comes Pictavensis et assignatus a patre; Gaufridus totius Britanniæ nactus est principatum; Johannes, de promissione patris et provisione securus, diversas Hyberniæ portiones, si desuper ei datum fuerit, in monarchiam reducet”; see Chroniques d’Anjou, 342. 173 See Warren, King John, 35–7, for a hearty description of John’s stay in Ireland; also, Duﬀy, “John and Ireland,” 228–34.

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duke of Normandy, count of Anjou and Maine, and duke of Brittany, Geoﬀrey would rule a coherent territory and the move made political sense.174 The ploy was aimed to provoke Richard’s jealousy and was eﬀective, for Richard fortiﬁed Poitou and began sending raids into Brittany. Now Henry unveiled his second move: releasing his wife Eleanor from imprisonment, a state in which she had resided since her deception of 1173, the king demanded that Richard return Poitou to his mother, its rightful heir, and threatened his son with “a rod of iron and war” should he refuse. To sharpen his point Henry traveled to Normandy and spent Easter (21 April) at Rouen, levied an army in Normandy, and prepared for war.175 Richard returned Poitou to Eleanor and ceased his hostilities. Yet the problem of Henry’s domains still remained essentially unsolved and was in fact exacerbated when Henry appointed oﬃcers of his own in Aquitaine in April 1186, greatly oﬀending Richard who as duke saw the move as an infringement of his rights.176 Two events in the spring and summer of 1186 temporarily disarmed the hostile situation when Henry and Richard turned to deal with military aﬀairs in their own territories. First, Richard waged war against Toulouse in March and became otherwise occupied.177 Second, Henry departed for England in order to deal with Roland ﬁtz Uhtred, who had disinherited Duncan, earl of Fife (d. 1204), by seizing Galloway. Roland and William the Lion engaged in hostilities in May, and by early July Henry was at Northampton assembling an army by collecting scutage with which to hire Welsh mercenaries. His army moved northwest to Carlisle, where he ordered his vassals King William and David of Huntingdon, as well as Ranulf de Glanville and Bishop Hugh of Durham to bring Roland before him. Roland surrendered his claim to Galloway, swore fealty to Henry, and promised to keep the peace on pain of excommunication by Jocelin, bishop of Glasgow (d. 1199).178 For all concerned

174

Warren, Henry II, 597. Chronica, II: 304; Ymagines Historiarum, II: 35; Gervase, I: 326. Judging Eleanor’s involvement in governance after her release is diﬃcult, however, for there is scant evidence and most of her charters date to after Henry II’s death; see Richardson, “Letters and Charters of Eleanor,” 200. 176 Ymagines Historiarum, II: 40. 177 Gervase, I: 334. For Richard’s actions in the south, see Benjamin, “A Forty Years War,” 278–80. 178 PR 33, xxiii–xxiv; Chronicle of Melrose, in Anderson, Early Sources, 309–10; Historia 175

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parties the need for the king and his son to deal with matters of governance provided a bit of breathing space, and tempers cooled down in the meantime. The division of the Angevin Empire was thrown into disorder once more with the unexpected death of Geoﬀrey in Paris on 18 August, who was trampled while riding in a tournament.179 Geoﬀrey had only recently come into his own in terms of statesmanship, issuing an assize on knights’ fees in 1185 that demonstrated his ducal authority.180 But at his death a semi-secret alliance between Brittany and France was suddenly revealed. Geoﬀrey, it turns out, had paid homage to Philip at his coronation in 1179; moreover, he died at Paris and issued his ﬁnal charter there.181 This was suspicious enough, but even closer ties were revealed when Philip II demanded that he be given charge of Geoﬀrey’s daughter Eleanor (1184–1241), who was at that point the only heir to the duchy of Brittany.182 Henry refused to let Philip have such a valuable gift. He sent envoys to Paris, and it was agreed that peace should be kept until 13 January 1187. Feeling secure in his position, Henry now returned to England. Next, problems arose in the always-contentious region of the Vexin in October 1186. The French knight Richard de Vals fortiﬁed a castle between Gisors and Trie, at which the constable of Gisors, Henry de Vere, rode out with some men to dissuade him. Richard took his own men to meet the constable halfway and the two groups skirmished with each other, with Richard being wounded and put to ﬂight. King Philip reacted negatively and ordered that any of Henry II’s subjects found within French borders were to be arrested and their property seized; the order was reciprocated by Henry for any Frenchmen found inside his own domains. Taking advice from his magnates, Philip soon relented, but it was clear that animosity was in the air and tensions were high.183 Henry sent his envoys back to extend the treaty until Easter 1187 (29 March), but he was pessimistic about the course of Anglo-French relations and in December

Rerum Anglicarum, I: 237; D. D. R. Owen, William the Lion, 1143–1214: Kingship and Culture (East Linton, 1997), 72–3. In 1185 Henry II had restored the earldom of Huntingdon to David, of which he had deprived him during the Great Revolt. 179 Ymagines Historiarum, II: 41. 180 Charters of Duchess Constance, 24–5; Everard, Brittany and the Angevins, 111–15. 181 Charters of Duchess Constance, 31–2. 182 Œuvres de Rigord et de Guillaume le Breton Chronique de Rigord, I: 77–8. 183 Chronica, II: 315.

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sent Ranulf de Glanville to south Wales in order to secure the services of mercenary archers.184 After Christmas 1186, the cardinal subdeacon Octavian arrived in England at the behest of Pope Urban III for the purpose of crowning John king of Ireland. This was a matter Henry had arranged the year before, but Octavian’s timing could not have been worse. After spending the winter together, Henry brought the cardinal to the Continent to participate in a meeting with King Philip in late February. Landing at Witsand, they spent some time in Flanders before conferring with the French at Gué St. Remy. Philip’s claim to Eleanor, daughter of the Duchess Constance, was rendered somewhat impotent by both the birth of her son Arthur on Easter Day and her marriage to Ranulf “de Blundeville,” earl of Chester (d. 1232), but the king was still upset with the aﬀairs near Gisors.185 The meeting was a failure and both sides parted in animosity: Philip would not relinquish his claims to the Vexin, and there was no point in arguing further. In 1187, both sides began to prepare for war. Philip entered Berry and besieged the three castles of Issoudon, Fréteval, and Châteauroux. The ﬁrst two were surrendered to him by Urso de Fréteval and Robert II, count of Nevers, but Châteauroux was defended by Richard and John, and they refused to turn the fortress over.186 Henry arrived in relief on 23 June and both kings assembled their armies in anticipation of open battle. Preventing this was ﬁrst a temporary truce, then a proposition to decide the outcome through individual battle between knights, and ﬁnally, a two-year truce brokered by Octavian and other bishops present. The armies subsequently parted without issue.187 The most famous anecdote from the confrontation was the conversation had between Philip and Richard. During the ﬁrst truce, which the commanders used to prepare the ﬁeld for war, Philip made overtures to Richard in an attempt to persuade him to leave his father’s side. The quarrels between Richard and Henry were well known and it was a smart tactic. Philip of Flanders was sent to talk

184

Eyton, Court, Household, Itinerary, 274. Ymagines Historiarum, II: 48. 186 Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, II: 5–7; Chronica, II: 317–18. 187 There are several contemporary accounts of the non-action at Châteauroux: Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, II: 6–7; Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 248–9; Chronica, II: 317–18; Gervase, I: 369–71; Ymagines Historiarum, II: 49; and the Chronicle of Hainault, 107–8. 185

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with Richard and thereupon plied him with a tale of how Henry had debauched Alice, his bride to be. While Richard was receptive and perhaps suspicious of his father, he was not yet at the point of treachery.188 Yet he evidently heard something pleasing during his talks with the French, and after the truce he returned to France with King Philip. They apparently became fast friends and spent every waking moment together, both at dinner, sport, and in bed.189 Whatever the nature of the relationship, the friendliness between his son and Philip did not please a father who was already questioning Richard’s motivations. Henry’s suspicions proved to be accurate. He sent a series of messengers to recall Richard to Angers. In late August, the duke of Aquitaine proceeded southwest from Paris to Chinon, ostensibly to join his father; instead, Richard broke into the castle at Chinon, seized his father’s treasure there, and carried it back to Poitou, where he used the funds to fortify his own castles. Richard’s motivations at this point are not well-documented, but it appears that he lost some of his rebellious ardor when separated from the inﬂuence of King Philip. The heat of the moment passed, and by September he rejoined his father at Angers and paid him homage. With the Richard question settled for the moment, Henry took the opportunity to move his army west into Brittany and besiege the castle of Montrelais that had been seized by the rebel Harvey de Leuns after the death of his son Geoﬀrey the year before.190 Henry then kept Christmas at Caen, thinking his aﬀairs were well enough in hand to return to England in January 1188. The king made it as far as Barﬂeur before he was forced to turn back to Normandy. The reason for his extended stay on the Continent was the sudden warlike overtures of Philip II. Hearing of the English king’s impending departure, Philip levied the French host and boasted that he would invade Normandy unless Henry surrendered Gisors and its lands, or, alternatively, force Richard to ﬁnally marry his half-sister Alice.191 Each king had some legitimacy in regards to each

188

De Principis Instructione Liber, 232–3. Chronica, II: 318. J. A. Brundage has called their relationship intimate and writes, “Richard was by preference a homosexual”; see Richard Lion Heart (New York, 1974), 257–8. His sexuality has lately become a popular example in academic queer studies, but see Gillingham’s retort in Richard I, 84 and especially 264–6. 190 Chronica, II: 318. 191 Chronica, II: 334–5. 189

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claim. For the former, one could argue that Henry had a distinct right to Gisors, for in 1158 the marriage arrangement between young Henry and Louis VII’s daughter Margaret stated the Vexin as her dowry, and despite their young age, the two children were indeed married in November 1160. No doubt the matter was a source of conﬂict between Normandy and England, but there was legal precedent and good reason for Henry to not relinquish the city. The betrothal of Richard and Alice was another matter entirely. First betrothed in 1169 in the Treaty of Montmirail, the two had never married, despite the stipulation in the 1177 Treaty of Ivry that they do so. The wedding was integral ﬁrst to the plan of Louis VII, and then that of his son, to recover Aquitaine, which had been lost in 1152 in the divorce from Eleanor. Thus either of Philip’s demands, if met, would yield strategically vital territory back to the French Crown. Henry was not prepared to give any ground, and he had little practical reason to do so. Despite the recent rebellions of his sons and ascendancy of Philip II, the English king was indisputably still the strongest military power in the West. In response to the French levy, Henry remained in Normandy in January 1188 and met Philip at a conference at Senlis, between Gisors and Trie, on the feast of St. Agnes (21 January). It was a sizable aﬀair that included several important magnates and bishops, but while the meeting brought about the creation of the Saladin Tithe for crusading relief it did nothing to reach a compromise on the political matters at hand. Both kings attempted to bury the hatchet by taking the cross together, but it was, like the crusading talk in the 1177 Treaty of Ivry, a futile proposal. Ambroise relates, “the devil made great eﬀorts to restore the discord between the two kings.”192 Henry would not live to see the Holy Land, and matters on the Continent were far too dangerous to be left alone while on a long journey east. The practical eﬀect of the 1188 truce was thus to ignore the problems at hand and leave them essentially unsolved. Richard, who had been at the conference with the kings, soon afterwards marched south to Aquitaine to deal with two rebellions. The ﬁrst was led by Geoﬀrey de Lusignan and included Ademar, count of Angoulême, and Geoﬀrey de Rancone, and together their

192 The History of the Holy War: Ambroise’s Estoire de la Guerre Sainte, eds. M. Ailes and M. Barber, trans. M. Ailes, 2 vols. (Woodbridge, 2003), II: 32.

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forces ravaged some of Richard’s lands but were ultimately besieged by the duke in the castle of Taillebourg and surrendered. While Richard was putting down Lusignan and Angoulême, hostilities were renewed by Raymond V of Toulouse, a conspicuous foe of the Angevins, who began attacking various Aquitainian merchants. In the spring Richard captured one of Raymond’s advisors, Peter Seilun, and Raymond captured two of Henry II’s knights returning to England from St. James de Compostella. Raymond suggested a hostage exchange but Richard refused, citing the knights’ immune pilgrim status that should have prevented their capture in the ﬁrst place. Intervention by King Philip to mediate his vassals’ dispute proved to be ineﬀective, and Richard ultimately sent an army of Brabanters to attack Toulouse while he himself captured at least seventeen castles in and around Languedoc.193 Philip wrote to Henry and asked if the attack on Toulouse was at his bidding, to which Henry answered in the negative. Philip, now following the precedent set by his father in 1159, was forced to defend Toulouse as if it were his own.194 He did so by moving against the target that had eluded him the year before: Châteauroux. Levying a large army in early June 1188, the king moved into Berry and the castle was surrendered to him along with, by and by, nearly all of Berry, and Vendôme soon followed. It was a swift victory that immediately attracted the attention of the Angevins. Henry II sent Baldwin, archbishop of Canterbury (d. 1190), and Hugh, bishop of Lincoln (d. 1200), to ascertain the cause of Philip’s wrath, but despite their peacemaking eﬀorts Philip refused to cease his hostilities.195 Henry’s response arrived in July, and his campaign demonstrates that, even as a tired king of 53 winters, he was more than a match for young Philip. Conﬂict began with Richard addressing rebel forces in the south, which Philip then used as a pretext for an illegal invasion of Normandy. The entry of French armies into Normandy was, in fact, a violation of the two-year truce agreed to at Châteauroux— a detail passed over in several major studies on Philip and especially

193 Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, II: 34–6; De Principis Instructione Liber, 245–6; Benjamin, “Toulouse and the Plantagenets,” 280; Gillingham, Richard I, 90–1. 194 Chronica, II: 340; Ymagines Historiarum, II: 55; Gervase, I: 432. 195 Chronica, II: 343–4; Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, II: 39–40; Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 276.

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notable in Jim Bradbury’s enthusiastic biography.196 In response, Henry and Richard mounted a simultaneous, two-pronged attack against French interests, with Henry moving into the Vexin and Richard entering Berry from the south. Their armies ravaged the terrain, captured several castles, and took numerous hostages. Philip was overpowered and forced back to the negotiating table. The two sides met at the customary spot, a point between Gisors and Trie, in which a large elm tree stood, but could not come to an agreement; in a move highly symbolic of the rapidly declining relations between France and the Angevins, Philip had the tree cut down and stated that no more negotiations would ever take place there. Philip’s show of strength and resolve was quickly diminished, however, when Philip of Flanders, Theobald of Blois, and several other French nobles laid down their weapons and swore to not ﬁght Christians again until after they had seen Jerusalem. Very suddenly Philip had lost the bulk of his allies, and surely the English king grinned with smug satisfaction!197 Philip had no choice but to now reenter negotiations, which took place at Chatillon on 7 October. Henry II held the upper hand and took advantage: for breaking the truce at Châteauroux, Philip was to return the lands in Berry and the Vexin he had seized. In return, Richard would restore Toulouse to Raymond V. Yet now it was the Angevin’s pride that prevented successful compromise. While Richard agreed to further negotiations on the issue of Toulouse, when Philip requested that Henry return the castle of Pacy-sur-Epte the king refused. Philip took his army (now ﬁlled with Brabanters, perhaps necessitated by his loss of allies) south, captured the castle of Pauld, and traveled as far as Bourges.198 Henry remained behind and received the homage of Neulon de Fréteval. At this point Henry still held the advantage in the negotiations, for not only was Richard ﬁghting loyally by his side but he was very close to getting

196

See the accounts in Bradbury, Philip Augustus, 78; Baldwin, Government of Philip Augustus, 30–1; Hutton, Philip Augustus, 46; and A. Cartellieri, Philipp II. August: König von Frankreich, 4 vols. (Leipzig, 1899), I: 276–8. A more balanced reading is oﬀered in CH. Petit-Dutallis, The Feudal Monarchy in France and England from the Tenth to the Thirteenth Century (New York, 1964), 211: “once he [Philip] was in a position to take the oﬀensive, he found his position of suzerain merely a justiﬁcation for his attack.” 197 Chronica, II: 345; Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, II: 46–9. Gervase, I: 434, notes that Richard attempted to retake Châteauroux but failed. 198 Chronica, II: 345–6; Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, II: 49.

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everything he wanted out of Philip. Conﬁdent that further conferences would resolve the issue, in late October he sent his Welsh mercenaries back to England, thinking that he would no longer need them. The next meeting took place on 18 November at Boumoulins. Philip again oﬀered to return the conquered lands in Berry and the Vexin, provided that Henry allowed Richard to marry Alice and allow his subjects to pay homage to Richard as their king. As Roger of Howden notes, however, Henry could not help but remember the diﬃculties that arose in 1173 and 1174 from having two crowned kings of England; not wishing to repeat his mistake, the king refused. At this Richard became very upset, and in one of the more startling moves in English history threw his support behind King Philip, paid him homage, and in return received Châteauroux, the castle of Issoudon, and the newly conquered lands in Berry.199 The End of the Reign The defection of Richard was elemental to the ﬁnal defeat of Henry II. In many ways the king’s wars of the 1180s had proceeded in the same manner as had his wars of the 1160s and 1170s. Even up to 1188 the old king had asserted his will with relative ease, and while Philip had some successes none of them were fatal to Henry’s rule. Moreover, Philip had not been able to permanently turn the sons, something that Louis VII had at least been able to do for a time during the Great Revolt. Philip was a young king with scant experience in war compared to Henry, and we have seen how easily the Angevin was able to dictate terms and force Philip’s armies here and there. But as the decade progressed, Henry’s advantages of age, experience, and political statesmanship began to fade. There were substantial political diﬀerences between the 1170s and the 1180s. Henry’s sons had grown up, and all of them save John had become more recalcitrant with age. Their defections in 1173 meant little because they commanded so little respect and had so few resources of their own, but that was not the case ten years later. Henry himself was getting older, and Richard in particular was impatient for his opportunity to rule as king. Finally, Philip steadily became a cleverer oppo199 He did not oﬀer his fealty, however, which he reserved for Henry II as his immediate lord.

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nent than Louis had ever been, refusing to follow dictates from Rome and breaking treaties as they became too burdensome.200 The ﬁnal blow was the turning of Richard, who had become, through necessity, his father’s main and most powerful ally. October 1188 was the turning point for the arrayed opponents of Henry II. Richard, his chief ally in the campaign against Philip had defected; Normandy, Anjou, and Maine were now surrounded by hostile forces; and to make matters worse, his mercenaries had been sent back across the Channel at his own command. In one swift movement, Richard’s defective had put the old king on the defensive, and Henry was fortunate to be able to arrange a truce with Philip until 13 January 1189. This gave him a scant two months to ready his next move.201 The time available would not be enough for Henry to recover from the latest show of familial treachery. Sailing back and forth between Normandy and England, the king did what he could to patch together a suitable army. He sent Geoﬀrey Plantagenet, his bastard son who was now acting as chief-of-staﬀ, to Anjou to raise troops, but many of his nobles on the Continent had begun to desert him.202 The dispute had also attracted the attention of Rome, and Clement III sent the Cardinal legate Henry of Albano to settle the dispute between the kings. Cardinal Henry, judging Richard as the person hindering peace, took the ill-advised step of excommunicating him and died shortly thereafter.203 As the truce between Henry and Philip expired on 13 January 1189, Richard and the French king launched an invasion into Henry’s domains. Apart from some ravaging little ﬁghting occurred at the outset, for Cardinal John of Agnani came before the disputants with exhortations and even threats to cease and desist. The treaty was therefore extended, and another meeting was arranged for the octave of Pentecost and took place 4–9 June at La Ferté Bernard, near LeMans. Philip’s demands had not changed: Richard’s marriage to Alice was

200

The classic example of this would be Philip’s refusal of Innocent III’s plea to end his attacks upon King John’s continental lands, and particularly Normandy, in 1204; see R. V. Turner, King John (London, 1994), 154. 201 Ymagines Historiarum, II: 57–8; Gervase, I: 435–6; Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, II: 50; Chronica, II: 354–5; Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 276–7; De Principis Instructione Liber, 254. 202 C. Given-Wilson and A. Curteis, The Royal Bastards of Medieval England (London, 1984), 110. 203 Gervase, I: 436; Chronica, II: 355.

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to occur immediately and Henry’s subjects should give fealty to Richard as king; furthermore, Philip asked that John take the cross and journey to Jerusalem, presumably in an eﬀort to get rid of the potential threat of Henry’s favorite son.204 Henry could not assent to these terms and instead made a counteroﬀer: if Philip wanted Alice married so badly, perhaps she could marry John instead? This as well was wholly disagreeable: not only was Richard enraged by Henry’s stealing of his bride, but there was no political advantage to Philip in such a marriage. Cleverly, Henry had revealed the designs behind the French demands in front of Cardinal Agnani—Richard’s marriage was but a pretense for Philip’s territorial ambitions. The revelation was for a moment eﬀective, and when Philip tried to leave the conference the cardinal threatened all of France with interdict unless the king arrived at some arrangement with England. Philip responded with a barb of his own: Rome could not prevent him from punishing his own rebellious vassals, which Henry technically was; moreover, he accused the cardinal of having been bribed by English money. The conference broke up and warfare resumed.205 Henry retired to Le Mans, where he was attacked on 12 June by the combined armies of Richard and Philip. Perhaps feeling that his 700 knights would not be able to defend the town, Henry ordered the town outside the castle walls burned. The idea was to create a ﬁery barrier between himself and his enemies, but it was a hasty and poorly designed plan: the ﬁre spread to the town walls, and in the end the king was forced to ﬂee with what knights and mercenaries he could. Meanwhile, the French cavalry pursued Henry’s ﬂeeing remnants for three miles. The Welshman, lacking horses and pulling up the rear, were gradually caught and killed, but Henry managed to reach Saumur with many of his knights and took refuge in the castle.206 William Marshal was among those covering Henry’s retreat, and as Richard rode in pursuit of his father Marshal killed his horse underneath him, saying, “Let the devil kill you for I shall not!”207 Philip’s campaign had just begun. The French next took the castle of Mont-Doubleau through the assassination of Geoﬀrey of 204

Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, II: 61; Chronica, II: 362–3. Gervase, I: 446–7; Ymagines Historiarum, II: 62; Chronica, II: 363; Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, II: 66–7. 206 Chronica, II: 363–4; Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, II: 67–8; Gervase, II: 447; Ymagines Historiarum, II: 63; Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 277. 207 Painter, William Marshal, 70. 205

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Vendôme, then the castle of Trou, and thereafter Roches l’Evêque and Montoire and the castles Chartre, Château Loire, Château d’Amboise, and Rochecorbon. On 3 July, Philip arrived before the walls of Tours and besieged it. He sent his men with scaling ladders against its short walls on the River Loire and stormed the city, taking eighty knights and a hundred soldiers prisoner. By this time Philip had, for all intents and purposes, now conquered Touraine and most of eastern Maine. Soon afterwards Ralph de Fougères, Henry’s old foe from the rebellions of 1173 and 1174, delivered up much of Brittany to the king of France, and several Poitevin nobles did the same.208 The war was over in the space of just two weeks. June and July 1189 were probably the most harrowing months of Henry’s life. Unable to maintain the cool, calm demeanor that had served him so well in past wars, Henry was now a shell of his former self: tired of ﬁghting, suﬀering from an ulcer, and lying sick on a stretcher at Saumur, the king decided to make peace with his enemies. The rapidity with which Henry was defeated continues to astound, for the events of 1189 could not have been more diﬀerent in nature from the ﬁrst thirty-nine years of his military career. On 4 July Henry II was brought to negotiations at Azay on a litter and agreed to Philip’s terms. He paid homage to the French king and named Richard as his successor to the throne of England. Finally, he agreed that Alice would be safeguarded by ﬁve men until Richard could return from his upcoming crusade, at which date they would marry. In return for his concessions, for a price of 20,000 marks of silver Henry received the lands in Berry that Philip had seized in the conﬂict. As surety for the stated terms, Philip and Richard would hold certain cities and castles until all arrangements had been fulﬁlled.209 Henry never lived to see it done, expiring from illness on 6 July 1189 at the age of ﬁfty-six. Richard arrived the day after to view his father, and as the story goes, the corpse began to bleed in his presence.210

208 Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, II: 69; Chronica, II: 364; Ymagines Historiarum, II: 62–3; Expugnatio, 364. William of Newburgh writes that Philip then besieged Angers, but this is unsubstantiated elsewhere; see Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 277. 209 The terms of the treaty are recorded in Chronica, II: 365–6; and Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, II: 70–71. The choice of locations was Henry’s: Le Mans, Tours, Château Loire, and Trou; or, Gisors, Pacy-sur-Epte, and Nonacourt. 210 Ymagines Historiarum, II: 64–5; Gervase, I: 448–9; Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, II: 71.

CHAPTER THREE

MILITARY ORGANIZATION Roger of Howden tells us that Henry II lost a good number of barons, nobles, and men during his 1165 Welsh campaign, and in one succinct phrase he sketches the rough composition of a High Medieval army.1 The baronage is distinctly separated from its lessers in terms of importance (greater) and usually also their number (lower). The ‘nobles’ consisted of an array of men: those holding honours or great fees; the lesser or middling nobility later of the banneret; landed and un-landed knights (men owing service through so-called moneyﬁefs); and perhaps also the king’s household knights or familia.2 The distinctions between knighthood and the baronage were often indistinguishable. Castellan lords also existed as perfect expressions of knighthood, so the diﬀerent terms do not always indicate a diﬀerence in class.3 The king and his barons led particular tactical units in the army that rallied around their respective banners, and the nobles were the cavalry. The familia appears to have been omnipresent: Henry’s court was mobile and traveled with the king, and he had the use of his household knights at any given time. The chronicler Orderic Vitalis estimated this household contingent to be 200–300 men during the reign of Henry I, and by the later twelfth century the familia regis had become a standing professional force in its own right. Henry II’s familia supplied him with sheriﬀs, governors, councilors, judges, and diplomats as well as warriors and included by and by members of comital families.4 In 1159, for example, Henry’s familia 1

Chronica, I: 240. An honour could mean nothing more than an estate and was not limited just to barons and earls; see F. Stenton, The First Century of English Feudalism, 1066–1166 (Oxford, 1961), 57–9. Lesser families could be quite inﬂuential and powerful; see R. Dace, “Lesser Barons and Greater Knights: the Middling Group within the English Nobility c.1086–c.1265,” HSJ 10 (2001): 57–79. In any case, by the end of the twelfth century the honour had lost most of its prestige. 3 D. Barthélemy, “Castles, Barons, and Vavassors in the Vendômois and Neighboring Regions in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries,” in Cultures of power: Lordship, Status, and Process in Twelfth-Century Europe, ed. T. N. Bisson (Philadelphia, 1995), 58–61. 4 J. O. Prestwich, “The Military Household of the Norman Kings,” EHR 96 (1981): 11–12. Henry the Younger’s familia may have numbered over 200 knights; Prestwich, The English Experience, 13–14. 2

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included the chamberlain Henry Fitzgerald, the knights Richard de Camville and Robert de Dunstanville, Justiciar Richard de Lucy, Chancellor Thomas Becket, and the constable Henry of Essex.5 Knights, owing to their elite status acquired through a formal ceremony, are distinguished from mounted warriors, although both could wield similar weapons. John Gillingham has provided the tidiest deﬁnition: a ‘knight’ is a well-armed soldier who possessed horse, hauberk, sword, and helmet; ‘knight service’ is service performed by well-armed soldiers of this type and owed to a lord in return for land held from that lord.6 However, there are knights and then there are knights: William the Conqueror diﬀerentiated between middling noble knights (milites mediae nobiles) and common knights (milites rustici ), and later there appears terminology for hired mercenary knights (milites stipendiarii ).7 The number of knights in a battle was usually smaller than the number of cavalry itself. The ‘men’ were an amalgamation of English troops drawn from the great or select fyrd (discussed below), troops sent by allies, or mercenaries who had no formal lord and who received wages as a return for a period of service to the paying general. They were foot soldiers, skirmishers, archers, and missile troops (sometimes mounted) and could be composed of local forces or mercenaries.8 The Question of Obligation Of the major components of a typical Anglo-Norman army the knights have traditionally been viewed as the most important, borne from J. H. Round’s old view that William the Conqueror instituted a feudal system de novo after Hastings. Depending upon the size of his ﬁefs, a vassal owed knight service fees or servicium debitum in

5 J. Martindale, “‘An Unﬁnished Business’: Angevin Politics and the Siege of Toulouse, 1159,” ANS 23 (2000): 129–30. 6 R. Barber, The Knight and Chivalry, 2nd ed. (Woodbridge, 1995), 27; J. Gillingham, “The Introduction of Knight Service into England,” ANS 4 (1981): 53. 7 S. Harvey, “The Knight and Knight’s Fee in England,” Past and Present 49 (1970): 28–9. 8 Under consideration here is primarily the organization of Anglo-Norman armies, not French, although they had much in common. For a good survey of the latter, see Histoire militaire de la France 1: des origins a 1715, eds. A. Corvisier and P. Contamine (Paris, 1992), especially Contamine’s studies of the Capetian armies in chapters 3 and 4, pp. 43–106.

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multiples of ﬁve or ten.9 For our period, there is evidence that the overall number of knights was increasing by the end of the twelfth century for primarily economic and social reasons. The upper nobility remained privileged, and it is likely that knighthood itself had made gains in terms of class as knights began to approach the ranks of lesser nobility. It has thus been argued that the twelfth century saw the ﬁrst true fusion of a warrior class and the aristocracy.10 Even so, there were degrees of separation based on their ownership of both land and personal weaponry. Jean Scammell divides the AngloNorman knights circa 1100 into four basic categories: 1. Precarious knights, relying upon their lords’ arming them. They might have no land, unfree land, or free land. 2. Knights who owned their own arms, and so were knights as long as they kept them, but had no land. 3. Knights who owned their arms, held land, but not by military service with those arms. 4. Knights who owned their arms so that they were always knights and who held land by service with those arms ( per loricam). Richard Abels has argued that in the eleventh century, judging from records in Domesday Book, knights with ﬁef-rents11 were outnumbered by those without. It seems that much of the upward mobility of the knight came in the later twelfth century and through edicts of Henry II such as the Assizes of Clarendon (1166) and Northampton (1176).12

9 Round’s foundational study emerged in three articles: two titled “The Introduction of Knight Service into England,” EHR 6 (1891): 417–43, 625–45; and a third, identically titled, in EHR 7 (1892): 11–24. These are brieﬂy summarized in idem, Commune of London and Other Studies (Westminster, 1899), 56–7, and reprinted in idem, Feudal England (London, 1909), 225–314. There are studies that argue for the presence of knights in Anglo-Saxon England; for example, see J. Gillingham, “Thegns and Knights in Eleventh-Century England. Who was then the Gentleman?” Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, 6th ser., vol. 5 (1995): 129–153. 10 Strickland, War and Chivalry, 22. On the role of the knight in society, see R. A. Brown, “The Status of the Norman Knight,” ANW, 128–42; and France, Western Warfare, 58. 11 Bryce Lyon has suggested “Fief-rente” as a term generally applicable to all types of feudal obligations in Europe; see From Fief to Indenture: the Transition from Feudal to Non-Feudal Contract in Western Europe (Cambridge, MA, 1957), 15–16. 12 J. Scammell, “The Formation of the English Social Structure: Freedom, Knights, and Gentry, 1066–1300,” Speculum 68 (1993): 595 and 600; R. Abels, Lordship and Military Obligation in Anglo-Saxon England (Berkeley, 1988), 135; D. Fleming, “Landholding by Milites in Domesday Book: a Revision,” ANS 13 (1990): 83–98, esp. 93–5.

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While knights with no land did not have speciﬁc military obligations to fulﬁll, those with land or those knights holding money-ﬁefs might be called to serve if the war was a local aﬀair. Money-ﬁefs were paid in installments of money instead of a single grant of land, and the installments were meant to encourage the knight’s regular service in times of war. Occasionally a knight might hold both a traditional ﬁef as well as a money ﬁef, such as Count Thierry of Flanders (d. 1161), who owed a thousand knights to Henry II in return for a money-ﬁef, but also twenty knights to Louis VII, his liege lord.13 The servicium debitum equaled the total number of fees due to the king, and he might also request the service of every fee held by his men as a result of subinfeudation, although by the late twelfth century this was uncommon.14 The king also distributed knights’ fees to bishops, and certain dioceses such as Bayeux and Lisieux could owe fees in numbers comparable to Henry’s most powerful secular magnates.15 Knights and their obligations have been the focal point of much research and debate. Between the champions of the Middle Ages as an ‘Age of Cavalry’ and the dissenters who prefer to stress continuity between the Anglo-Saxon fyrd and the Norman feudal order, many divergent conclusions have been reached.16 In 1954, J. F. Verbruggen argued that medieval warfare was characterized by the dominant role of the heavy cavalry and that the medieval art of war itself should be judged on the basis of cavalry. Verbruggen was countering the doubtful claims of Hans Delbrück and others that warfare declined in the Middle Ages through the diminishing use of foot-soldiers and the lack of grand, central strategizing on the part of commanders. Verbruggen saw the opposite: it was the knights, or miles, astride warhorses, leading bold charges against the un-mounted ranks of the enemy, which deﬁned medieval warfare. In the last three decades this myth of mounted dominance has been dashed to

13 B. Lyon, “The Money-Fief under the English Kings, 1066–1485,” EHR 66 (1951): 161 and 165. 14 J. R. Strayer, “Knight Service in Normandy in the Thirteenth Century,” in Anniversary Essays in Mediaeval History by Students of Charles Homer Haskins, ed. C. H. Taylor (Boston, 1929), 315–17. 15 J. Peltzer, “Henry II and the Norman Bishops,” EHR 119 (2004): 1205–6. 16 For a succinct description of this problem, see J. Beeler, “The Composition of Anglo-Norman Armies,” Speculum 40 (1965): 399–400.

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pieces. First, studies have demonstrated that before the thirteenth century generals frequently ordered knights to dismount and ﬁght on foot. This was not only meant to boost the morale and resolve of the lightly-trained foot soldiers, but also to prevent spontaneous charges out of formation, either in retreat or in pursuit of a ﬂeeing foe. Even on those occasions in which knights remained on their horses, full-scale cavalry charges were quite rare in the West. This is not to say that cavalry tactics themselves had lost their identity or purpose; as demonstrated in Levantine warfare, crusading armies in the Holy Land employed the heavy cavalry charge as their principal oﬀensive weapon. In the smaller campaigns in England and France, however, battles were somewhat rare.17 Owing to their speed and mobility, mounted soldiers became instead a primary tool in the chevauchée: destroying ﬁelds and ﬂocks of the peasants and thereby reducing the ability of their lord to ﬁght, was in the eyes of William the Marshal, argues Gillingham, a chivalric way to wage war.18 Second, the entire construct of the supposed feudo-vassalic system of obligation has been seriously challenged in the last thirty years. The question is essentially whether or not the knights summoned to war were responding because of their own particular obligation to a lord (from holding a ﬁef ) or because all land-holders owed some sort of general obligation to the government, from which all had received land in the ﬁrst place. In other words, were there individual obligatory contracts (attained through the performance of homage and an oath of ﬁdelity) or not? This is the question of the so-called ‘F-Word’ or ‘feudalism’. The term feudalism has been denounced as an invention of the seventeenth century that cannot, and should not, be employed to describe a universally, or even nationally, applied system of obligation. Elizabeth A. R. Brown argued in 1974 that the word ‘feudal’ can be applied only as a reference to ﬁefs, and in 1994

17 J. F. Verbruggen, The Art of Warfare in Western Europe during the Middle Ages, trans. S. Willard and R. W. Southern, 2nd ed. (Woodbridge, 1997), 5, 19. Verbruggen’s ﬁrst edition was countered only four years later in R. C. Smail, “Art of War,” Medieval England, ed. A. L. Poole (Oxford, 1958), 139–40. For more modern studies see Prestwich, Armies and Warfare, 325–28; and Morillo, Warfare under the AngloNorman Kings, 150–57. On the use of cavalry in the east, see R. C. Smail, Crusading Warfare, 1097–1193, 2nd ed. (Cambridge, 1995), 165–89; and M. Bennett, “La Règle du Temple as a Military Manual, or How to Deliver a Cavalry Charge,” in Studies in Medieval History presented to R. Allen Brown, 7–20. 18 Gillingham, “William the Marshal,” 256.

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Susan Reynolds proposed that English ﬁefs did not refer to knights’ fees but to all free and heritable property.19 If Reynolds is correct, than the process of summoning an army was perhaps more collective than individual. For the other side, William Jordan has lately argued that our modern reckoning of a feudal system ought to survive because juridical and vernacular literature from the High Middle Ages was obsessively concerned with ﬁefs, the inheritance of ﬁefs, and the relationships between ﬁef-holders. Thus, obligation remained an individual concept because individuals asserted heritable rights to the ﬁefs of their fathers.20 For the moment, because neither Brown nor Reynolds has suggested a replacement word for the adjective ‘feudal’ it will remain in use in this study in reference to the voluntary obligation of knights to a lord. The other controversies surrounding feudalism cannot be settled here, and the best method may be to use Helen Nicholson’s model, which states that, regardless of variations, military service tended to depend ﬁrst upon personal bonds between lords and subjects and second, land holding.21 Still, we should interrogate the practical aspects of ﬁefs in the reign of Henry II. Addressing this subject speciﬁcally, Reynolds contends that it was a Plantagenet desire for military funds and the ﬁscal potential of the fees, not a need for soldiers, which dictated customs and obligations in the twelfth century.22 Her argument is based largely on an examination of Henry’s policies concerning mercenaries, which he typically hired with funds drawn from scutage (or ‘shield-tax’), a payment made in lieu of military service and based on the respective obligation of a given land-holder. Although the shield-tax was in use before the 1100s (William the Bastard incorporated mercenaries into his Breton campaigns, for example), the most-cited ﬁgure in England for dependence upon scutage is Henry II.23

19 E. A. R. Brown, “The Tyranny of a Construct: Feudalism and Historians of Medieval Europe,” AHR 79 (1974): 1086; S. Reynolds, Fiefs and Vassals: the Medieval Evidence Reinterpreted (Oxford, 1994), 394. 20 W. C. Jordan, Europe in the High Middle Ages (New York, 2003), 15. 21 Nicholson, Medieval Warfare, 45–6. 22 Reynolds, Fiefs and Vassals, 361–3. This appears to be an elaboration on F. L. Ganshof ’s statement that Henry developed new methods of using feudal relations in the interests of the royal administration; see Feudalism, 2nd ed. (New York, 1964), 166. 23 T. K. Keefe, Feudal Assessments and the Political Community under Henry II and his Sons (Berkeley, 1983), 24–6.

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For example, in preparation for a campaign into northern Wales in 1157, Henry levied only one-third of the knights available to him through feudal obligation; from the remainder he collected the shieldtax and bought the services of mercenaries. In 1168, the king extended scutage to every knight’s fee, giving him the freedom to raise wholesale mercenary armies if he wished, and, more importantly, the ability to raise fees piecemeal as the political climate allowed.24 It is Henry’s zeal for calling in the monetary equivalent of an obligation rather than the service of the knight that attracts Reynolds’ attention. Using the 1166 Cartae Baronum, the ﬁrst English roll of knightly obligation, she makes two claims. First, she argues that no hard evidence for the customary period (in days) of knight service exists, in the Cartae Baronum or elsewhere, which suggests that the rules for actual service were less important than the money each ﬁef could provide the king. Second, she asserts that before Cartae Baronum no one knew the total number of knights owed by all tenants.25 This would lend credence to her argument that the ﬁnancial aspect of obligation was more important than service. Citing the 1159 Toulouse campaign, she then concludes that scutage was more important to the war eﬀort because “the personal service of those owing one or two knights can never have been vital to royal armies.”26 There are problems with Reynolds’ overall assessment. Despite the limited evidence available, Hollister managed to reach some reasonable conclusions that indicated obligations probably lasted forty days in England and France, and six weeks in Germany.27 Further, Reynolds is not a military historian and does not address the practical roles knights and soldiers ﬁlled while marching on campaign, ﬁghting in various types of actions, and foraging for or seizing supplies. Medieval armies did not commonly rely upon massive groups of knights, and ﬁfty to a hundred knights were usually more than

24

Keefe, Feudal Assessments, 39–41. The records of the Cartae Baronum can be found in The Red Book of the Exchequer, ed. H. Hall, 3 vols. (RS 99, 1896), I. For the Norman record see Liber Niger de Scaccario, ed. T. Hearne, 2 vols. (London, 1771); and J. Boussard, “L’Enquête de 1172 sur les services de chevalier en Normandie,” in Recueil de travaux oﬀert A. M. Clovis Brunel, ed. A. Vernet, 2 vols. (Paris, 1955), I: 193–208. 26 Reynolds, Fiefs and Vassals, 362. 27 See C. W. Hollister, The Military Organization of Norman England, (Oxford, 1965), 89–100; and idem, “The Annual Term of Military Service in England,” Medievalia et Humanistica 13 (1960): 40–47. 25

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enough to satisfactorily ravage an area or contribute to a battle or skirmish. Considering that English kings rode with a familia that numbered in the dozens, the number of knights drawn from obligation could have been quite small but still vital. Moreover, the extra horse he might require could easily be drawn from mercenary ranks. We thus have an interesting counter: Henry preferred the shield-tax because the money allowed him ﬂexible control over the composition of his army. Moreover, Henry actually preferred mercenaries over knights raised through obligation. He needed soldiers, and mercenaries were easier to control than the turbulent and often rebellious barons. Put simply, Henry did not need large numbers of enfeoﬀed knights to eﬀectively wage his wars. As a result, many knights were left at home during Henry’s wars. And although there were exceptions, English knights were typically not summoned for continental campaigns and vice versa. Years might pass in-between a knight’s moments of mortal combat, especially after Henry personally banned the practice of holding tournaments in his lands. It could be a restless and boring life, as laments Bertran de Born, for whom “peace gives [me] no comfort.” As a social component the knight remained important, especially as regards the role of chivalry, and in any case, success in warfare was not always a standard of good knighthood. Chevalerie as a concept could refer simply to groups of mounted warriors, engaged in battle or not, and in England knightly status retained its importance after the creation of the ‘Grand Assize’ in 1179.28 The assize involved a jury of twelve knights who delivered a verdict in service to the king’s justices. This jury could be chosen by the plaintiﬀ instead of the more traditional trial by battle, and only those with the requisite stature could participate on the jury.29 The diminished specter of the knight has also raised questions about the nature of the importance of heraldry and chivalry as cultural norms. The revision of chivalric studies has impacted literary scholarship as well, as the knights in chanson de geste

28 Bertran de Born, “A War-Song for the Count of Toulouse,” Trobador Poets: Selections from the Poems of Eight Trobadors, trans. B. Smythe (London, 1929), 76; Strickland, War and Chivalry, 23. Tournaments were still held in France, however, and Henry’s son Geoﬀrey practiced the “science of war” and became renowned in 1178 for his skill against “knights of reputation”; see Chronica, II: 166–7. 29 Warren, Henry II, 353–4; P. Coss, The Knight in Medieval England 1000–1400 (Stroud, 1993), 32. For relevant excerpts from Glanville’s treaty, see Select Charters, 190–95.

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are one by one reappraised. Tony Hunt has argued that the declining historical role of the knight only enhanced chivalry in literature, for his absence allowed courtly songs to construct an alternative image in which the knight’s function is ampliﬁed beyond the realities of medieval society.30 Mounted knights were noted for their heroic deeds. The glamorous reputation of the knight and the complexity of the feudal systems in which he was integral has attracted the bulk of the attention from literary scholars as well as military historians because as a general rule, non-knightly soldiers were marginalized in the chivalric literature of the period, if even mentioned at all.31 Nevertheless, knights did indeed ﬁght in the armies of Henry and were important factors on his campaigns, much as they were in the other armies of the period. Had the full obligatory complement had been levied (and there is no evidence that this ever occurred), Henry would have had between ﬁve and seven thousand knights available for his use.32 As the Norman understanding of the obligation developed, however, leaders were allowed some ﬂexibility when raising soldiers. This system has been a matter of some debate in the past. Notwithstanding the objections of Brown and Reynolds, the concept of a ‘feudal army’ itself is rife with diﬃculty. As Richardson and Sayles have argued convincingly, the questions surrounding English feudal levies are threefold and not purely military in nature: Infeudation and sub-infeudation are legal and social questions; knight service, the determination of servitia debita, is a question of revenue; the constitution of the armed forces—let us be forgiven a truism—is a military question [. . .] Military tenures and actual military service were two very diﬀerent things, and enfeoﬀment bore little relation to the eﬀective military force at the disposal of the king.33

Knights were probably not levied in Round’s neat and tidy groups of ﬁve or ten, arrayed before the commander in proper order, but rather in a piecemeal fashion as they became available.34 As Stephen

30 See J. Gillingham, “1066 and the Introduction of Chivalry into England,” in Law and Government in Medieval England and Normandy, 31–55; T. Hunt, “The Emergence of the Knight in France and England 1000–1200,” in Knighthood in Medieval Literature, ed. W. H. Jackson (Woodbridge, 1981), 1. 31 Hanley, War and Combat, 226. 32 Beeler, “Composition of Anglo-Norman Armies,” 403. 33 Richardson and Sayles, Conquest to Magna Carta, 72. 34 J. C. Holt, “The Introduction of Knight Service in England,” in ANW, 58.

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Morillo has noted with some insight, after the predominance of cavalry came under attack in the twentieth century, the phrase ‘Age of Cavalry’ now refers primarily to an increasingly important role of mounted warriors in deciding battles in the West. A battle might be turned by charges of heavy cavalry, working together to oﬀer a concentrated and irresistible attack on groups of foot soldiers. Such was the case at Hastings and also Tinchebrai in 1106. At other times the cavalry dismounted and joined the ranks of the foot: at Brémule in 1119, Bourgethérolde in 1124, the Standard in 1138, and Lincoln in 1141. In these cases, the well-trained knights served to stiﬀen both the strength and resolve of the men, and while dismounting was a less glamorous approach to battle, it was usually an eﬀective one.35 In the second half of the twelfth century dismounted knights were very common, and this trend persisted until the reign of Henry III (1216–1272), in which knights fought on horseback at the battles of Lewes and Evesham.36 Accordingly, there are few examples of heavy cavalry charges being delivered against the enemies of Henry II.37 When battle did commence, the monastic chroniclers would mention a great battle here or men riding into a fray there, but there are only one or two speciﬁc depictions of knights charging as one. One of the best examples is from 1174, when a group of cavalry, led by Ranulf de Glanville and Bernard de Balliol charged William the Lion of Scotland at Alnwick Castle and captured him after a ﬁerce battle on horseback. The chronicler Jordan Fantosme takes care to describe the valorous acts of several individual knights, and great feats of skill were performed on that day, but the operation was not a cavalry charge in the classic sense. Rather, the assorted cavalry and soldiers of the 500 Scots present were not in proper array, and King William himself had

35 S. Morillo, “The ‘Age of Cavalry’ Revisited,” in The Circle of War in the Middle Ages: Essays on Medieval Military and Naval History, eds. D. J. Kagay and L. J. Villalon (Woodbridge, 1999), 46–56. 36 M. Prestwich, “Miles in Armis Strenuus: The Knight at War,” Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, 6th ser., vol. 5 (Cambridge, 1995), 204. 37 The lack of documented charges should not lead us to conclude, however, that cavalry had lost its role on the medieval battleﬁeld. It remained an important and necessary component of any sizable army. On this issue see the vitriolic, but wise, comments of J. F. Vebruggen, “The Role of the Cavalry in Medieval Warfare,” JMMH 3 (2005): 46–71 (originally printed as “De rol van de ruiterjj in de middeleeuwse oorlogvoering,” Belgisch tijdschrift voor militaire geschiedenis 30 (1994): 389–418.

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removed his helmet. The English made a surprise attack designed to scatter the loosely organized Scots and capture the principals; the attack was not meant to penetrate a stout line of warriors. Several of the knights, ﬁghting for both sides, are named by Fantosme for their heroic deeds: Ranulf de Glanville, Bernard de Balliol, Roger Mowbray, Adam de Port, Alan de Lascelles, William de Mortimer, Ralph Rufus, and William de Vesci, among others.38 The Matter of the

FYRD

While many battles were indeed fought without the use of cavalry, very few battles were fought without foot soldiers.39 One great advantage of foot was the process by which a mass of soldiers could be mustered for war. It is diﬃcult to calculate exact numbers of foot soldiers at a given battle, for the ﬁgures provided by the chronicles are often exaggerated for dramatic eﬀect. For example, Gilbert of Mons provides round numbers for the warfare between Philip Augustus and Philip of Flanders in 1185: the French ﬁelded an impossible army of 2,000 knights and 140,000 other eﬀectives against a smaller army of 400 knights and 40,000 soldiers from Flanders.40 The charter record at times makes for a steadier counting of the important knights, albeit still incomplete; the knights were fewer in number and their elevated social status made them more conspicuous. As a general rule, the ratio of foot soldiers to cavalry was quite disparate. At 140 knights and around 3000 foot, Henry Plantagenet’s January 1153 landing force illustrates the diﬀerence; similarly, Norman levies in 1172 resulted in only 581 knights put into action.41 Horses were more diﬃcult to transport by ship, of course, but there were always fewer knights owed through obligation than soldiers who could be raised in towns and shires. Unlike the enfeoﬀed knights, the foot soldiers could be paid to ﬁght or prodded into the defense of their

38

Fantosme, 195–200. There is a dearth of infantry studies for the Anglo-Norman period, perhaps because modern military historians have attributed their victories to accident and luck; see K. DeVries, Infantry Warfare in the Early Fourteenth Century: Discipline, Tactics, and Technology (Woodbridge, 1996), 5. 40 Chronicle of Hainault, 99. For the diﬃculty in counting foot soldiers, see Verbruggen, Art of Warfare, 164–9. 41 Verbruggen, Art of Warfare, 7. 39

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town. In the 1190s, Philip Augustus took soldiers from French communes which had formerly seen to the defense of individual regions and was able to bolster the numbers of his army accordingly.42 Most of the foot soldiers were raised in a manner similar to the knights— through the obligation of the king’s tenants. This could constitute a double obligation in which a subject provided both knights and soldiers. Another way to raise foot soldiers was through laws and mandates. Before the Conquest landowners and even a monastic house with no servicium debitum could be obliged to supply a soldier for every ﬁve hides, a hide being the amount of land required to support one family.43 This had been the process of the Old English system of militia recruitment in which men were raised not through personal obligation but through an individual’s possession of lands and chattels. The 1086 Domesday Book records in some detail the number of hides owed by county, and one particular entry for Berkshire reveals the Anglo-Saxon system which was, essentially, still in place years after the Conquest: When geld was commonly paid TRE. throughout the whole of Berkshire, a hide gave 3½ d before the Nativity of the Lord and as much at Pentecost. If the king sent out an army anywhere only 1 thegn went out from 5 hides, and for his sustenance or pay 4 s for 2 months was given him from each hide. This money, however, was not sent to the king but given to the thegns. If anyone summoned on military service did not go he forfeited all his lands to the king.44

Given such an explicit statement, and the fact that the hide system was in existence in 1086, the central question asks whether or not this Old English system, referred to generally as the fyrd, stayed in use throughout the Anglo-Norman period. In Hollister’s opinion, the Berkshire strictures call for the ‘select fyrd,’ those men obliged to serve on the ﬁve-hide basis. These soldiers were typically thegns or ceorls who were expected to serve for their own lands, although a townsman or wealthy peasant might also serve. The ‘great fyrd,’ on 42 Verbruggen, Art of Warfare, 161. For a comparative study of the military uses of communes under Richard I and John, see S. R. Packard, “The Norman Communes under Richard and John, 1189–1204,” in Anniversary Essays in Mediaeval History, 231–54. 43 Beeler, “Composition of Anglo-Norman Armies,” 409. 44 Domesday Book, eds. A. Williams and G. H. Martin (London, 1992), 136. TRE refers to tempore regis Edwardi, or “in the time of King Edward [the Confessor].”

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the other hand, was “a general levy of all able-bodied freemen from a local district who were required to defend their own neighbourhood or their own shire against invasion”; this force consisted of untrained provincials.45 Both the ‘great fyrd’ and the ‘select fyrd’ were preserved in Anglo-Norman England. Access to the militia came through William the Conqueror’s insistence that all freemen of England swear loyalty to him, and the ‘great fyrd’ was summoned many times in the late eleventh and mid-twelfth century, appearing most clearly in the reigns of William Rufus and Stephen. A passage in the Chronicle of Peterborough suggests the survival of the ‘select fyrd’: along with an assessment of fees, lower-status and sub-feudal military tenants are speciﬁed based on the number of hides owned by the vassal.46 By the reign of Henry II, the distinction between the select and great fyrd is unclear and in any event had lost much of its usefulness when land ceased to be assessed on the basis of hides. Instead, the annual rent-value or income of the land became the preferred auditing standard. Yet Henry is credited with a rough reformation and reconstitution of the fyrd into a general militia in the later years of his reign. Two royal assizes were issued in 1181 that speciﬁed the arms and armor men ought to possess at all times, based on their ﬁnancial condition, in order to serve the king in times of need. The ﬁrst was issued at Le Mans on Christmas 1180 and soon after copied by both Philip Augustus and Count Philip of Flanders; the second, the Assize of Arms, was issued a few days later in January 1181. The former edict applied to Henry’s continental lands and the latter to England. Both assizes are graduated sets of standards that dictate how all orders of freemen are to be armed.47 In England, knights were armed according to their holding a fee. The Assize of Arms expects a vassal to possess a hauberk,48 helmet, shield, and lance for every knight’s 45

Hollister, Military Organization, 14–16. Hollister, Military Organization, 216–57, esp. 235–6. 47 The assizes are both found in Howden: for the assize of Le Mans, see Chronica, II: 253; for the Assize of Arms, Chronica, II: 260–3. See also Select Charters, 181–4; and EHD, 416–17. 48 A twelfth-century hauberk was a mail shirt stretching to the knees, with either elbow or wrist-length sleeves; see I. Pierce, “The Knight, his Arms and Armour c.1150–1250,” ANS 15 (1992): 250. It could weigh twenty-ﬁve pounds, while the lance grew to a weight of thirty or forty pounds by the fourteenth century; R. H. C. Davis, The Medieval Warhorse: Origin, Development and Redevelopment (London, 1989), 21–24. 46

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fee in his demesne; thereafter, freemen holding chattels or rents valued at sixteen marks or more should possess the same armament, and those holding lands worth ten marks the same but with quilted doublets and no shield. On the Continent the system is based exclusively on the worth of a man’s chattels or rent and the armament is diﬀerent: men with over £100 of property were expected to possess a horse as well as mail, shield, helmet, and lance; amounts under this were spared the expense of a horse; and all others needed a helmet, quilted armor, and their choice of weaponry, either a lance and sword or a bow and arrows. All men were forbidden to sell their arms or ship them to foreign lands. Finally, all must hold the arms perpetually in their family and swear allegiance to Henry as their king or lord. The exception to this rule was the Jews, who are forbidden in the Assize of Arms to possess a hauberk. This has led some at least one scholar to argue that the Assize, by forcing the Jews to disarm, opened the way for anti-Jewish violence in England and in particular the massacres of 1190 and 1191. This argument is not persuasive. In regard to the Jews, the Assize of Arms speaks only of armor, not weaponry, and there is no document from Henry’s reign in which Jews are explicitly disarmed.49 The more famous of these laws is the Assize of Arms, for two particular reasons. First, the English version is much longer and more detailed. Second, the aﬃnities between the Assize of Arms and the Old English fyrd are undeniable. David Douglas and George Greenaway write, “its intention was to re-create the ancient ‘fyrd’ as an eﬃcient force supplementary to the feudal levies.”50 William Stubbs, thinking decades beforehand, oﬀered analysis that was perhaps foundational to their understanding: In order ﬁnally to secure the defense of the country, and to have a force on which he could depend for the maintenance of peace and order, he armed the whole free population, or ordered them to provide arms, according to a ﬁxed scale, proportioned to their substance. Thus he restored the ancient Anglo-Saxon militia system, and supplied the requisite counter-balance to the military power of the great feudatories, which, notwithstanding the temptation to avoid service by payment of scutage, they were still able and too willing to maintain.51

49 50 51

A. M. Hyamson, A History of the Jews in England (London, 1908), 34. EHD, 416. W. Stubbs, The Early Plantagenets (New York, 1889), 88.

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Stubbs and his contemporary E. A. Freeman saw a strong continuity between the Anglo-Saxon and Anglo-Norman periods; for them the Assize represents a return to an older system that had steadily lost its value during the reigns of the Anglo-Norman kings. The discussion is based on technical analyses of fragmentary evidence over a 200-year period that J. O. Prestwich calls “diﬃcult to interpret with conﬁdence.”52 The consensus seems to be that the Assize of Arms employed traditional Anglo-Saxon concepts of arming the English freemen, while at the same time it was neither fully innovative nor wholly reliant upon the Old English model, as evidenced by its references to knight’s fees and the value of property. Thus it was both a revival of the fyrd as well as a synthesis of its ‘great’ and ‘select’ attributions into a single system, a recruitment of militiamen that were now involved with local peacekeeping eﬀorts.53 This was much the same as the Old English system, which was initially devised as a counter to invading Vikings and was hardly ever used to form armies meant for invasions. Between the reigns of Alfred (871–99) and Edward the Confessor there are only four instances of Anglo-Saxon armies being sent on oﬀensive campaigns into lands outside the Heptarchy. Three of these were by Anglo-Saxon monarchs: Æthelstan into Scotland in 934, Eadred into either Scotland or Northumbria in 948/5, and Queen Æthelﬂæd into Wales in 916. Unlike her successors, neither she nor husband Edward actually accompanied the troops. The fourth occasions were the successful campaigns of Harold Godwinson into Wales in the early 1060s.54 Yet the key to understanding these documents, and Henry II’s intentions behind them, lie in the diﬀerences in armament in England and Normandy. The continental forerunner to the Assize of Arms, the assize of Le Mans, seems to have been purposefully designed to 52 J. O. Prestwich, “Anglo-Norman Feudalism and the Problem of Continuity,” Past and Present 26 (1963): 41. 53 M. Powicke, Military Obligation in Medieval England: a Study in Liberty and Duty (Oxford, 1962), 56; Hollister, Military Organization, 258; Prestwich, Armies and Warfare, 121. 54 ASC, 100, 106–7, and 112; K. DeVries, “Harold Godwinson in Wales: Military Legitimacy in Late Anglo-Saxon England,” in The Normans and their Adversaries at War: Essays in Memory of C. Warren Hollister, eds. R. P. Abels and B. S. Bachrach (Woodbridge, 2001), 65–85. Anglo-Saxon navies, however, were a diﬀerent matter entirely, and are commonly found in the surviving evidence operating up and down the English coasts.

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equip potential soldiers for the king’s armies. Unlike England, Normandy had no tradition of a fyrd and its peoples were more used to the customs of personal obligation—in the reigns of Richard and John, the townsfolk would be directly recruited for service in the general levies.55 Only the Norman assize requires that those holding more than £100 in chattels be equipped with horses; presumably, these men would know how to ride their horses as well. Thus, for Normandy Henry was thinking about the acquisition of cavalry, or, at least, warriors who could ride to battle and then dismount. This seems logical, given that the bulk of Henry’s campaigns before (and in hindsight, after) 1181 took place on the Continent. The king had less use of cavalry in England in that year: the Treaty of Falaise had soothed Anglo-Scottish tensions, there had not been a serious rebellion in the English towns since 1174, and even the Welsh March had settled into a peaceful, if tense, border region. Normandy, on the other had, consumed Henry’s attention for the duration of his life. There, armies ranged across the provinces, battles were more common, and the need for horse greater. In addition, only the Norman assize gives each man the option of carrying a bow and arrows, although there are plenty of references to archers in the English Pipe Rolls as well.56 Yet despite such ﬁnancial outlays for missile troops there was no speciﬁed role for them in England in 1181. The mention of bows on the Continent thus signiﬁes a general need and some attention to the defense of fortiﬁed structures or a perceived need for castle or town garrisons.57 Henry II’s two assizes can only be properly understood through such a comparison of the two assizes. The documents’ wordings are far too detailed to suggest that they were only intended to provide for a militia. Conversely, the argument that such an equipped force could dissuade the ambitions of powerful barons, ﬁrst oﬀered by Stubbs and then Richardson and Sayles, is also far too idealistic and impractical for the later twelfth century.58 1181 was seven years removed from the Great Revolt, and the direst threat to Henry was

55 There is no evidence that John ever used the communal levies against the French, however; see Packard, “Norman Communes,” 237. 56 J. Bradbury, The Medieval Archer (New York, 1985), 78. 57 This might then answer the uncertainty surrounding the diﬀerences between the two assizes, which is brieﬂy discussed in M. Strickland and R. Hardy, The Great Warbow: from Hastings to the Mary Rose (Stroud, 2005), 83. 58 Stubbs, Early Plantagenets, 88; Richardson and Sayles, Conquest to Magna Carta, 76.

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the belligerence of his son Henry the Younger, who fought primarily with mercenaries and Flemish allies. Even during the rebellions of 1173 and 1174 the threats to England were largely external and manifest in Scottish invasions and incursions of Flemings hired by Robert of Leicester. Where, then, was the threat of baronial appropriation of the English townsfolk? Philip Contamine’s assessment, that Henry was trying to arm the townsfolk while simultaneously increasing the stock of available weapons, is closer but is likewise limited by a lack of strategic consideration.59 The reality is that Henry had ordered the arming of citizens in order to create another pool of soldiers ready for his personal use. Such an interpretation meshes well with his policy of dependence upon reliable and readilyavailable warriors, which, as we will see, is amply illustrated in his reliance upon mercenaries. Mercenaries Outside of the feudal order there was room for Anglo-Norman kings to go beyond the system of obligation when it became advantageous. The clearest example of this is their use of mercenaries before and after the Conquest, commonly referred to as mercennarios, stipendiarii, and solidarii. These men fought for proﬁt as well as out of loyalty or respect for a lord’s suzerainty.60 The rise of paid soldiers corresponded with a general economic revival in the High Middle Ages, fed by an increase in towns, the rise of a merchant class, and the gradual development of a money economy.61 They formed integral parts of Henry II’s armies, and his use of mercenaries as complements to the feudal levy was of enormous help in waging war over the huge Angevin Empire.62 There is a long tradition of vilifying mercenaries as uncivilized and brutish, yet their usefulness and ubiquity suggests that it was medieval and Renaissance thinkers and authors, not military leaders, who eschewed their use.63 59

P. Contamine, War in the Middle Ages, trans. M. Jones (Oxford, 1984), 88. That early stipendiarii could act like vassals even towards temporary employers has been argued persuasively by Hollister, Military Organization, 189–90; more recently, see S. Isaac, “The Problem with Mercenaries,” in The Circle of War in the Middle Ages, 101–10. 61 Hollister, Military Organization, 169. 62 Kaeuper, War, Justice, and Public Order, 19–20. 63 See the discussion in M. Mallet, Mercenaries and their Masters: Warfare in Renaissance Italy (Totowa, 1974), 208. 60

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The number and character of stipendiarii on campaign depended upon their terms of service and area of origin. In general, they would campaign for forty-day terms in England, France, and Flanders, and six-week terms in the Empire, serving as foot-soldiers, heavy or light cavalry, and archers.64 They saw a certain proﬁt in ﬁghting for a foreign lord, often due to their own lack of obligation to one of their own. They were most often used for general harassment purposes, including the ravaging of ﬁelds and towns. While mercenaries played a key role in the defeat of the Scottish king David I at the Battle of the Standard in 1138, their common role was more of a supportive nature. Mid to late twelfth century mercenaries are identiﬁed in Western chronicles as belonging to three major groups: Flemings, Welshmen, and ‘Brabanters’ (at times called Brabácons, Cotereaux, or Routiers), a loose term that could also indicate men of Navarrese, Basque, or German origin. Irish and Scottish mercenaries were less common in Henry II’s armies but appear periodically. The Flemings and Brabanters were typically mounted warriors or skilled foot soldiers, while the Welsh were principally skirmishers or bowmen, diﬀerentiated by location: the northern Welsh (Gwynedd and Powys) fought with spears and in light armor, while the southern Welsh (Deheubarth) were predominantly archers. While Brabanters and Welshmen were common sights in the armies of Henry II men from Flanders were not. In fact he expelled all Flemish mercenaries from England in 1155 and thereafter they are generally found in ranks arrayed against him.65 Henry did grant several Flemish barons money-ﬁefs in 1163, each with a servicium debitum attached, perhaps an indication of his unwillingness to employ men from Flanders without some surety in the deal.66 The Brabanters,

64

Hollister, Military Organization, 167–8, 178–9, and 90. One possibility of their employment was the 1165 Welsh campaign, where the Brut y Tywysogyon places Flemings in his army, but they seem quite out of place; see P. Latimer, “Henry II’s Campaign against the Welsh in 1165,” Welsh Historical Review 14 (1989): 532. A second was the Siege of Malmesbury in 1153, a disaster in which Duke Henry’s mercenaries sacked a monastery; see Gesta Stephani, 230–33. As for his foes, in 1173–1174 Louis VII employed Flemings against Angevin holdings in Brittany and Normandy, and in 1174 the rebel Robert of Leicester purchased the services of an entire Flemish army that was later crushed at the Battle of Fornham. 66 S. D. B. Brown, “Military Service and Monetary Reward in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries,” History 74 (1989): 32. 65

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whatever their individual origins, were generally known for their ruthlessness, so much so that the Third Lateran Council of 1179 ordered the excommunication of anyone hiring their services.67 Yet in the armies of Henry they earned a reputation for success, including a major victory in September 1173 over the rebel forces of Ralph de Fougères and Hugh, earl of Chester, at the Battle of Dol.68 The Welsh were most skilled at skirmishing and ambushes, which Henry learned ﬁrsthand when Welsh men jumped from the trees and nearly slew him in 1157. After leading three campaigns into Wales during the early years of his reign, Henry ultimately began hiring their services for his own purposes. Not everyone had been so keen on the prowess of the Welsh: in a battle oration before the Battle of Lincoln in 1141, Baldwin FitzGilbert called the Welsh “object[s] for our contempt . . . devoid of skill and all knowledge of the art of war, like cattle running upon the hunting-spears.”69 Henry II obviously disagreed and viewed them from a perspective of utility. In a letter sent to the Byzantine emperor Manuel Comnenus he spoke of their skills in battle, fearlessness on the attack, and ferocity exceeding that of wild beasts.70 The hired Welsh were primarily used for ravaging and were quite good at it. In 1188, Henry sent his Welsh troops into France where they burned several villages and captured and burned the castle of Damville, an impressive feat for a band of untrained skirmishers.71 In 1923, Hans Delbrück argued for a thirteenth-century shift in English military obligation towards mercenaries, demonstrated by King John’s preference for foreign soldiers over the traditional English levy.72 More likely, this change occurred during the reign of John’s father, the dominant name associated with the use of mercenaries in post-Conquest warfare by twentieth-century historians. Although

67 William of Newburgh recorded the declarations of the council; for the Brabanters, see the ﬁfth canon in Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 209. 68 As France has noted, when commanded from above in a proper battle they were often eﬀective; see Western Warfare, 74. 69 Historia Anglorum, IV: 17. 70 Descriptio, 181. 71 Chronica, II: 345. 72 H. Delbrück, History of the Art of War, Volume III: Medieval Warfare, trans. W. J. Renfroe (Lincoln, NE, 1982), 172. Against Delbrück’s methodology see B. S. Bachrach, “Early Medieval Military Demography: Some Observations on the Methods of Hans Delbrück,” in The Circle of War in the Middle Ages, 3–20.

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he did not overtly transform armies through an ambitious use of the shield-tax, as argued by Jacques Boussard, Henry II did alter their complexions by preferring the reliable services of hired soldiers. Boussard calculated that there were 6,000 such eﬀectives hired by Henry during the rebellions of 1173 and 1174.73 Michael Prestwich argues that such numbers are anomalies and that the percentages of hired men on campaign were typically lower and agrees with Delbrück about a transformation after 1189.74 Yet this does not deny that Henry relied heavily upon mercenaries in a strategic sense, for they are found in nearly all of his campaigns. That he relied upon hired soldiers speciﬁcally for their eﬀectiveness in warfare has been recognized at least twice before and not yet refuted.75 Diﬀerent theories have been oﬀered to explain why Henry II depended so much upon mercenaries in his armies. Henry’s treasurer Richard ﬁtz Nigel explained in the Dialogue of the Exchequer that the use of hired men saved the lives of the citizens: “the prince prefers to expose mercenaries, rather than natives to the fortunes of war.”76 This is a magnanimous view, certainly, but is not indicative of Henry’s strategic thinking, and at any rate the king rarely showed much concern for the safety of his often-rebellious vassals. Closer are views that Henry’s nobles were uninterested in war and that the use of mercenaries had become an international phenomenon in the twelfth century.77 To this I would argue that Henry simply valued the battle skills mercenaries brought to the table. During the rebellions of 1174, Henry relied so heavily upon hired troops that William of Newburgh concluded that they were more reliable than the troublesome barons.78 Yet to therefore state, as W. L. Warren has, that mercenary footmen were the mainstay of Henry’s military power overemphasizes their use. On nearly every campaign Henry still

73 J. Boussard, “Les mercenaires au xiie siècle: Henri II Plantagenet et les origins de l’armée de métier,” Bibliothèque de l’école des Chartes 106 (1945–6): 189–224; see Powicke, Military Obligation, 49, for the numerical discrepancy between this and other periods. 74 Prestwich, Armies and Warfare, 149. 75 Richardson and Sayles, Conquest to Magna Carta, 72; Warren, Henry II, 231. 76 Dialogus de Scaccario, IX. 77 J. Schlight, Monarchs and Mercenaries: a Reappraisal of the Importance of Knight Service in Norman and Early Angevin England (Bridgeport, CT, 1968), 74; Prestwich, Armies and Warfare, 150. 78 Historia Rerum Anglicarum, II: 172.

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called in the obligations of his vassals, and the feudal norms of obligations carried on after his death.79 Stipendiarii thus constituted a reliable and easily acquirable supplement to the king’s armies.

79

Warren, Henry II, 231.

CHAPTER FOUR

STRATEGY, TACTICS, LOGISTICS Any discussion of strategy and tactics ought to begin with Clausewitz’s deﬁnitions of the two: tactics teaches the use of armed forces in the engagement; strategy, the use of engagements for the object of the war.1 Here we will examine Henry II’s strategy through his various campaigns, including his invasions of hostile territories, use of armies for oﬀensive and defensive land warfare, the employment of ships as support vessels for military operations, and the ﬁnancing of campaigns. The king’s tactics, his decisions about how to deploy his assets at moments of direct confrontation with his enemies, are best illustrated through study of his battles and sieges. While his tactical choices remained rather constant over his long reign, his strategic vision changed as he advanced in age, and he became less belligerent and more interested in settling disputes through diplomacy. Much of Henry’s historical legacy is unfairly constructed by way of this diplomacy and statesmanship of his later reign. A thorough revision of his military career is therefore necessary. High Medieval Strategy and Henry II In the Middle Ages there were only a small number of full-scale battles fought by any one particular general, especially between 1066 and the Hundred Years War. Considering the warlike nature of the medieval ordo of ‘those who ﬁght,’ this is often surprising to the nonspecialist. Military strategy in the period centered instead on defensive logistical warfare. Medieval generals sought the submission of foes through attrition: ravaging the countryside, capturing or destroying supplies, besieging enemy castles, and reducing the enemy’s ability to wage war.2 Some scholars have attributed this logistical strategy

1 C. von Clausewitz, On War, eds. and trans. M. Howard and P. Paret (Princeton, 1976), 128. The italics are the editors’. 2 The standard case studies for our period are J. Gillingham, “William the Bastard at War” and “Science of Warfare,” in ANW, 143–60 and 194–207, respectively.

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to the De re militari of the early-ﬁfth century Roman author Flavius Vegetius Renatus, whose military manual enjoyed great popularity in the high and late Middle Ages.3 The number of extant manuscripts is a testament to the popularity of the De re militari: there are more surviving copies of Vegetius dated pre-1300 than the works of Julius Caesar, Livy, Valerius Maximus, and Pliny the Elder.4 Vegetius advises Roman commanders to employ logistical warfare while engaging in open battle only when there was a clear probability of decisive victory. Medieval armies were particularly suited to such styles of warfare because their preservation was paramount. In an age before recruitment, conscription, and standing national armies, the loss of even a single battle could be a crippling setback. Logistical warfare enabled a commander to acquire provisions and booty with which to feed and pay his army while simultaneously reducing an enemy’s resources. There is no direct evidence that Henry II ever read Vegetius, although circumstantial clues suggest that he did. His father Geoﬀrey le Bel may have owned a copy.5 Perhaps young Henry’s tutor William of Conches plundered Geoﬀrey’s library for authors such as Vegetius while instructing the boy in Latin, but De re militari did not become a textbook for military training until the fourteenth century. Before then, it would have been supplemental reading at best, perhaps treated as a cousin of the sciences.6 John of Salisbury copied sections

3 Vegetius: Epitome of Military Science, trans. N. P. Milner, 2nd ed. (Liverpool, 1993). On the De re militari in the Middle Ages, see B. S. Bachrach, “Medieval Siege Warfare: a Reconnaissance,” Journal of Military History 58 (1994): 119–133; C. R. Shrader, “The Inﬂuence of Vegetius’ De re militari,” Military Aﬀairs 45 (1981): 167–172; and C. Allmand, “The De re militari of Vegetius in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance,” in Writing War: Medieval Literary Responses to Warfare, eds. C. Saunders, F. Le Saux, and N. Thomas (Cambridge, 2004), 15–28. 4 C. R. Shrader, “A Handlist of Extant Manuscripts Containing the De re militari of Flavius Vegetius Renatus,” Scriptorium 33 (1979): 282–3. 5 The accounts are found in Historia Gaufredi ducis Normannorum et comitis Andegavorum, 218; and Chronicon Sancti Sergii Andegavensis, 146–8. These are accepted as accurate by K. Norgate, England under the Angevin Kings, 2 vols. (New York, 1887), I: 386; Contamine, War in the Middle Ages, 211; and Warren, Henry II, 38. For the dissenting view see B. S. Bachrach, “The Practical Use of Vegetius’ De re militari during the Early Middle Ages,” The Historian 47 (1985): 240–4 and 250. 6 Orme, Childhood to Chivalry, 185–9; idem, Education and Society, 173–4. Instead, Henry probably learned through chanson de geste, Arthurian romances, or other such works. For the place of military manuals and independent thematic texts in the period, see J. S. Beddie, “The Ancient Classics in the Mediaeval Library,” Speculum 5 (1930): 14–15; B. Stock, The Implications of Literacy: Written Language and Models of

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of the De re militari into books sent to Thomas Becket during the Toulouse campaign in 1159.7 Several copies of the book are found scattered throughout the monasteries of Henry’s Angevin Empire: two at St. Augustine’s Abbey in Canterbury, two at Tours, single copies at Poitiers, Canterbury, Lincoln, Le Bec, and Angers, one traced to either England or northern France, and two in Anjou.8 The missing link is deﬁnitive proof that Henry read his father’s books, examined Becket’s copies, or ever bothered to investigate the libraries of his realms. Whether as a result of Vegetius or not, today the premise is that generals in the High Middle Ages fought logistical, defensive warfare while avoiding battles. Battles themselves were risky aﬀairs and to be avoided unless a decisive victory was a near-certainty, for commanders did not wish to lose their human resources on spear tips. Taking cues from Philip Contamine’s comments regarding the relative infrequency of medieval battles, military historians have pointed to a shift in the Anglo-Norman period from pitched combat in the ﬁeld to the ravaging of land, villages, and the general depletion of enemy resources, and also a defensive strategy of warfare that involved using castles and fortiﬁed towns to hamper an enemy’s ability to raid, gather supplies, or rest while on campaign.9 It seems, however, that when confronted with the actual writing of history, scholars default to decisive battles as the prime requisite for strong military leaders. Interpretations of Henry II’s military career hang primarily on the tradition that he did not ﬁght battles and was not interested in ﬁghting battle. This is a popular myth and is found in many historical commentaries, some of which even state that he was never present at any battle. A few examples should suﬃce:

Interpretation in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries (Princeton, 1983), 328; R. R. Bolgar, The Classical Heritage and its Beneﬁciaries (Cambridge, 1963), 194–7; and H. Buttenwieser, “Popular Authors of the Middle Ages: The Testimony of the Manuscripts,” Speculum 17 (1942): 51. 7 Metalogicon, III: 10; and Policraticus, VIII: 19 and 25. 8 Shrader, “Handlist,” 280–305; J. W. Thompson, The Medieval Library (Chicago, 1939), 241. 9 Contamine, War in the Middle Ages, 228. Following him, see Prestwich, Armies and Warfare, 305–8; France, Western Warfare, 9–10; C. J. Rogers, “The Vegetian ‘Science of Warfare’ in the Middle Ages,” and S. Morillo, “Battle Seeking: the Context and Limits of Vegetian Warfare,” JMMH 1 (2002): 1–20 and 21–42; and Gillingham, “Up with Orthodoxy!” 149–58.

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1. “. . . Henry, who fought no major action, made no progress in tactical skill.” 2. “By contrast [with Henry I], Henry II never seems to have been present at a battle, unless you include the ﬁghting around Rouen . . .” 3. “Henry II, for example, in his whole life never fought a single battle. . .” 4. “. . . Henry II’s success at not ﬁghting battles is often cited in defense of the Vegetian nature of medieval warfare.” 5. “Full-scale battles were not frequent [. . .] Henry II was not present at a single one.” “Henry was something of a specialist in battles which did not take place.” 6. “On the contrary, veteran commanders like Henry II of England— who never fought a single general action in his long reign . . .” 7. “He tried to avoid battles and disliked casualties.” 8. “Henry II did not seek victories.”10 The historiographical tradition stretches back even further: Sir Charles Oman, writing in the 1920s, reached a similar conclusion and stated, “all through his reign the king was ﬁghting hard, yet he was never present at an engagement of ﬁrst or even second-rate importance in the open ﬁeld.”11 That Henry was not a seeker of battles has become the standard depiction, and as a result, he is rarely ranked among the great generals of the High Middle Ages, much less the kingdom of England. This reputation as a non-combatant has even inﬁltrated studies about other periods of medieval warfare and even some recent comments about the late medieval ‘military revolution’.12 10 Respectively: (1) F. Barlow, The Feudal Kingdom of England, 1042–1216, 5th ed. (London, 1999), 280; (2) France, Western Warfare, 50; (3) Gillingham, “Science of War,” 197; (4) Morillo, “Battle-Seeking,” 38; and (5) Prestwich, Armies and Warfare, 306 and 315; (6) Rogers, “Science of Warfare,” 2; (7) C. Tyerman, England and the Crusades, (Chicago, 1988), 45; and (8) Warren, Henry II, 629. See also Richard Barber’s version of the myth: “nor did he [Henry] prefer armed combat to diplomacy, using the latter until either his patience or his skill was exhausted”; Henry Plantagenet, 63. 11 C. Oman, A History of the Art of War in the Middle Ages, Volume One: 378–1278 AD (Reprint, London, 1998), 400; he also calls Henry’s campaigns “weary and uninteresting” (370). 12 See the editorial introduction in The Medieval Military Revolution: State, Society, and Military Change in Medieval and Early Modern Europe, eds. A. Ayton and J. L. Price (London, 1995), 7: “Not every experienced medieval commander had fought as few real battles as Richard I (or indeed his father) after 25 years of campaigning” (emphasis mine).

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Whence the impression that it was Henry II’s policy, or even preference, to avoid battles? Gillingham himself does not oﬀer citations to the source, but Michael Prestwich points to a remark made by Gerald of Wales in the Expugnatio Hibernica: Resolute in war, and provident in peace, he so much feared the doubtful fortune of the former, that, as the comic poet writes, he tried all courses before he resorted to arms.13

Gerald thus depicts the king as reluctant to initiate warfare as a ﬁrst course of action. Doubting the fortunes of war, however, is not the same thing as doubting success in a particular battle. Moreover, because of his rough personal relationship with the king, Gerald of Wales is not the most reliable source when it comes to characterizations of Henry. His other writings reﬂect a deﬁnite animosity, such as his criticism in the Expugnatio Hibernica of Henry’s refusal to crusade on behalf of Heraclius. In another book, Gerald repeatedly calls the king a blasphemer, judges his marriage to Eleanor to be scandalous (despite writing more than thirty years after the fact), and dubs Henry’s rebellious sons the ministers of divine justice.14 Such bias demands our trepidation, and I am disinclined to take his words at face value by ascribing a deﬁnite assessment to such a general remark. There are other contemporary remarks to consider as well, and Jordan Fantosme clearly saw something of the warrior in his king when he compared Henry’s military exploits to those of Charlemagne.15 A more accurate depiction probably lies somewhere in between the disparagement of Gerald of Wales and the enthusiasm of Fantosme, but the trend of classifying Henry as an avoider of battle, I would suggest, misreads the Expugnatio Hibernica, for all of the above arguments can be dismissed with only three examples. First to go is the premise that Henry was never present at a battle and/or never fought in one himself: in 1165, Henry led a campaign (costing over £7,500)16

13 Prestwich, Armies and Warfare, 307, citing Gerald of Wales, Expugnatio, 303; the translation is from The Historical Works of Gerald of Wales, trans. T. Wright (London, 1863), 251. 14 De Principis Instructione Liber, 255 and 283, 300, and 302. 15 Fantosme, 10–11. 16 See the logistical analysis in Latimer, “Henry II’s Campaign against the Welsh,” 545.

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into Wales, issued orders to his soldiers at the Vale of Ceiriog, and engaged his enemy in battle therein. In Wales in 1157, he was involved in the ﬁghting and nearly killed. We can just as easily address the second premise, that Henry did not seek victories as part of his military strategy, by examining the summer of 1173. The king ﬁrst attempted to engage Louis VII in battle at Verneuil, only to have his enemy retire the ﬁeld, and later that summer, he sent an army to crush the Breton rebels at Dol. This was clear ‘battleseeking,’ as Morillo puts it: in both cases Henry sought battle before attempting blockades of the towns taken by the rebels; the actions were not examples ‘battle-threatening,’ those actions Morillo sees as elaborate feints conducted in the knowledge or supposition that one’s enemy will refuse the overture of battle.17 In both cases Henry wanted battle and sought victories. Battle as Strategy Morillo’s comments on battle-seeking do raise a critical issue about combat in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, but it can be a tricky methodology in practice. Discerning a general’s intentions requires a close reading of the limited evidence, which is usually in the form of chronicles written far from the ﬁeld by non-specialists and at a much later date. Interrogation of the historical context and each document’s historiography is important. In the case of Henry II, he is famously known for forming up lines for battles that never materialized. It is thus useful to explore the context of each of these instances to see whether or not the king really desired a clash of arms in the ﬁeld. For the ﬁrst twenty years of his military career Henry II often sought battle as a ﬁrst option. By this I mean he employed strategies designed to induce an enemy army into a general ﬁeld action. This is not to say that he discounted ravaging or castle sieges as viable strategies, only that these were usually not his ﬁrst choice. Only later in his reign, most particularly in the 1180s, did the king seek to mitigate hostilities and conserve his assets. Henry brought his foes to action through a variety of initiatives. One method was

17

Morillo, “Battle-Seeking,” 26.

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besieging a castle in the full knowledge that the enemy would respond by sending a relief force, to which Henry could then oﬀer battle. Another was the relief action. Providing succor to besieged garrisons was quite common, and usually the besieger would move away upon hearing of the approaching relief force—this was considered a victory for the besieged side. Henry, however, tended to actually attack the enemy besiegers during the relief action instead of allowing them to retire. A third option was to simply draw up in battle array against an opposing army. Critical analyses of his battle-seeking strategies are necessary towards a recasting his overall military legacy, which has suﬀered signiﬁcantly due to modern historical obsession with open battle. The Relief of Devizes, 1149 Henry is ﬁrst found attempting to fully engage his enemy during the Henrician Phase of the civil war in the autumn of 1149. King Stephen, then conducting a scorched-earth campaign in the south in an attempt to frustrate the young Henry’s moves, was forced to move his armies north when Ranulf of Chester launched an attack into Lincolnshire in the northeast, threatening to cut oﬀ the king from Yorkshire. Exhibiting his characteristic inability to ﬁnish one job before starting another, Stephen abandoned his southern campaign and marched to Lincoln, which Ranulf had not yet captured. Once the pressure was oﬀ, Henry Plantagenet seized the opportunity before him, left Devizes, and marched southwest into Devon. On this his ﬁrst campaign as lead commander Henry became a besieger and ravager, earning his ﬁrst military victory at Bridgport.18 Although Stephen’s governor William de Tracy refused to engage in battle, the Gesta Stephani tells us that while in Devon Henry received word of an impending attack upon Devizes by Stephen’s son Eustace, and he quickly broke oﬀ his oﬀensive campaign and rode north.19 It is at this moment that the chronicle oﬀers an initial glimpse into Henry’s generalship: rather than march directly into town, he sent his vanguard ahead for reconnaissance purposes while he remained behind with his army, “taking precautions and in good order, in

18 19

Gesta Stephani, 210–11. Gesta Stephani, 222–3.

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military fashion, wishing both to save his castle and to oﬀer spirited resistance to any who opposed him on the way.”20 His advance force arrived just as Eustace was burning houses in the outworks of the castle. The outnumbered and intimidated Angevin garrison huddled behind their walls until Henry’s relief force arrived, at which they took to arms and, launching a counter-attack against Eustace, drove the surprised Englishmen into a hasty retreat. It was a great victory, although in fairness the royal army was not at full strength because a portion of Eustace’s army was away in East Anglia ﬁghting Hugh Bigod and the Beauchamps. In a manner of speaking, Bradbury is correct in calling the relief of Devizes “hardly a military triumph,” and although both Davis and John Appleby credit Henry with a victory at Devizes the Gesta Stephani indicates that Henry arrived only after the struggle had ended. We may thus credit him with wisdom for sending an advance force in relief, but he did not partake of the ﬁghting and probably did not even witness the action ﬁrsthand.21 Still, this was an early indication of Henry’s desire to defeat soldiers aligned against him. Arques and Torigini, 1151 More early examples are found in the period before Henry’s investiture as duke of Normandy in 1151. The young duke’s military exploits on the Continent began with a confrontation between the French and Angevins at Arques Castle, probably in late spring or early summer 1151. Louis VII and Eustace of Boulogne gathered an army and marched into Normandy and up to the castle. Henry soon arrived with a force of his own gathered from Normandy, Brittany, and Anjou. Geoﬀrey le Bel was present for neither of these encounters, as he was busy raiding towns in Perche, taking Mont-de-laNue, so Henry was the man in charge of operations. It is clear that the brash young soldier desired a battle because the barons under Henry’s command refused to ﬁght, citing the lack of suﬃcient insult on the part of the French. This lack of insult suggests that Arques was never actually invested by the French. Later that summer, Henry besieged the castle of Torigini and had managed to burn some houses

20

Gesta Stephani, 222–3. Bradbury, Stephen and Matilda, 147; Davis, King Stephen, 109; Appleby, Reign of King Stephen, 176. 21

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between the town walls and the keep when Louis and Eustace arrived in relief. Henry was forced to back down in the face of the French army. In August, Louis gathered his armies and marched towards Normandy again, arriving at a point between Melun and Mantes on the Seine. Marching quickly, Henry and his father joined forces and rode to meet the French from across the river. Were the Angevins looking for a battle? Here the evidence is unclear. Before any conﬂict arose Louis was struck by severe illness and forged a temporary truce with the Angevins, to be honored until he recovered. When Louis felt better, a formal peace was arranged and the French king accepted the homage of the young duke in August 1151 at Paris. In 1151, therefore, we have at least one instance of Henry seeking battle, and perhaps two. The Relief of Malmesbury, 1153 In late January 1153, Duke Henry’s biggest concern was the relief of Wallingford Castle in Berkshire, the easternmost Angevin stronghold and a strategically important town during the anarchy. He could have marched there as he had done at Devizes, but instead Henry moved to attack the royalist stronghold at Malmesbury in Wiltshire.22 His reasons for doing so are unknown, and none of the surviving accounts speaks of the duke’s strategic motivations. Historians have explained his intentions in two diﬀerent ways. The ﬁrst, and most common, argument contends that Henry wished to draw Stephen away from Wallingford and into the open ﬁeld where the two armies could ﬁght a proper battle. The second argument, made only by David Crouch, contends that Henry sought to open a path from Gloucester to the Thames by seizing Malmesbury; going further, Crouch argues that Henry was disappointed at the arrival of Stephen’s army, which checked the Angevins before Malmesbury Castle was taken.23 In a strategic sense both solutions, each wholly rational, could not be more diﬀerent: Henry was either willing to risk everything in a decisive battle, or he wished to avoid battle by attacking a castle away from Stephen’s army.

22 The accounts of the action at Malmesbury are Gesta Stephani, 230–1; Historia Anglorum, IV: 34; Torigini, 171–2; and Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 89. 23 See Davis, King Stephen, 118; G. J. White, “The End of Stephen’s Reign,” History 75 (1990): 7; and Crouch, Reign of King Stephen, 263.

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The events of Henry’s early military career provide a solution. Here we recall the words of Gerald of Wales in regards to Henry’s memory: Except when troubled in mind or moved to anger, he was a prince of great eloquence and, what is remarkable in these days, polished in letters [. . .] anything he had once heard worthy of remembrance he could never obliterate from his mind. So he had at his ﬁngers’ end both a ready knowledge of nearly the whole of history and also practical experience of almost everything in daily aﬀairs.24

Despite Gerald’s personal biases here is a compliment, and if Henry’s memory was anything close to this glowing account, we should expect him to learn from his mistakes, especially in warfare so crucial to his attainment of the English throne. In 1149, Henry and his allies moved towards York, only to see it relieved by Stephen; in that same year, Henry’s ally Ranulf of Chester attacked Lincoln, and Stephen moved his army away from Gloucestershire and towards Ranulf in response. Henry drew a similar response in the fall of 1149 when he marched to the relief of Devizes, only to watch it be relieved by an opposing army, and in 1151 Louis and Eustace relieved Torigini from the duke’s siege. Henry would have been a fool not to connect the dots at some point and realize that a siege works wonders in drawing an enemy’s army to oneself. Accordingly, I disagree with Crouch’s assessment of a more complex strategic goal: it makes more sense that Henry attacked Malmesbury in 1153 in order to (1) capture a strategically important town, and (2) lure Stephen’s army to a decisive showdown in the process. The town of Malmesbury fell before it could be relieved. Henry owed his rapid success to the tactics of his mercenaries, whom the Gesta Stephani takes great care to describe in action: attacking the town wall with missile ﬁre and ladders, the hired men forced Malmesbury’s defenders into retreat, and they took up shelter in a monastery church. Bursting into the church, the mercenaries attacked the priests and monks inside, desecrated the altar, and stole its valuables. The chronicle’s author laments the fact that the mercenaries in the duke’s army had committed similar atrocities in other nearby areas as well. Upon hearing of the news from his barons, Henry ordered some ﬁve hundred mercenaries back to the Continent, and 24

Expugnatio, 302–6; translation is from EHD, 386–8.

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their ships poetically sank in the channel, unable to ride out a severe storm at sea.25 Henry of Huntingdon fails to mention this event, but instead ascribes Henry’s success to chivalric deeds performed by his knights. Their skill notwithstanding, while the town fell Malmesbury keep could not be taken, and Henry’s army settled down to starve out its garrison. Henry’s gambit worked to perfection by drawing Stephen’s forces north, but a decisive battle did not ensue. The king probably arrived in early February 1153 with Eustace at his side after having followed Henry back to England. The opposing armies drew up their ranks across the Avon River but did not enter into battle. Several explanations appear in the chronicles for the inaction. It appears that Stephen’s army was the larger one, “packed with numerous nobles and gleaming with golden banners, and it was both very terrible and beautiful,” and Robert of Torigini numbers the force at several thousand strong. Henry’s modest invasion force had been supplemented by allies in England but remained insuﬃcient, forcing the duke to trust more in his skill and bravery. William of Newburgh, writing several decades later, notes that battle was not joined because Stephen was unable to attack with advantage; other evidence attributes this disadvantage to the banks of the Avon, which had swollen from hard rains and snow and could not be forded. Strong winds blew from west to east, driving icy cold air into the faces of Stephen’s men, who were so soaked and cold that they could not hold their weapons steady. These were not ideal conditions for a ﬁght, and given Henry’s outnumbered soldiers the duke was fortunate that both sides declined battle.26 Wallingford, 1153 Wallingford remained a strategic priority, however, and August 1153 saw Henry ﬁnally moving to relieve the siege there. Several hostile castles were in the vicinity but with garrisons numerically insuﬃcient to harass the duke as he rode south, so he reached Wallingford in safety. Upon reaching the town Henry concentrated his eﬀorts against

25 Of all the accounts, Gesta Stephani, 230–33, contains the most dramatic and detailed record of the siege. 26 Historia Anglorum, IV: 34; Gesta Stephani, 230–1; Torigini, 171–2; Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 89.

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the counter-castle of Crowmarsh near the eastern bank of the Thames, attacking the wooden structure’s perimeter. The initial assault was relatively easy, for the garrison at Crowmarsh was small, and some of Henry’s soldiers managed to penetrate the bailey and climb up the motte. In the midst of the ﬁghting, however, the Angevins were ambushed by small parties of knights hidden in the nearby woods and behind concealing structures, many of whom constituted the remainder of the original Crowmarsh garrison. The attacking force gave way and Crowmarsh was temporarily saved. After recovering from his losses, Henry became more determined and sat down to besiege the castle by surrounding it and his own men with a rampart that exited only to Wallingford Castle in the west. By now Stephen had been alerted to events at Crowmarsh. While he gathered and eventually marched with his army, the king sent an advance force of three hundred knights to Oxford to conduct raids into Berkshire and against Henry’s fortiﬁed position. And so it went until Stephen and Eustace arrived in full force, at which point Henry took down his ramparts and arrayed his men into battle formation.27 For the second time that year Henry was either threatening or seeking battle against Stephen, but which was it? Henry was safe within his ramparts and well-positioned for a quick escape towards Wallingford Castle, so he could have remained in a defensive posture but chose the ﬁeld instead. The two armies, “in all their warlike array, stood close to each other, with only a river between them, it was terrible and dreadful to see so many thousands of armed men eager to join battle.”28 Here we can discern Henry’s intentions through his strategy of once again drawing out of Stephen’s army.29 Given Henry’s history of such undertakings this is a distinct possibility, but it makes no sense to deliberately draw a relieving force down upon a siege in progress unless battle is desired. It is thus no surprise that Henry leveled his ramparts and formed battle lines upon hearing of Stephen’s approach. Once again, the duke was seeking, not threatening, battle. Battle was never joined, however, and the two sides agreed to a truce that included Stephen’s recovering of some eighty hostages and the demolition of Crowmarsh, which had been the cause for the situation. 27 28 29

Historia Anglorum, IV: 34; Gesta Stephani, 237–9; Gervase, I: 153. Gesta Stephani, 120. That such a tactic was intentional is argued by Slade, “Wallingford Castle,” 42.

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The failure of Stephen and Henry’s armies to clash at Wallingford has traditionally been viewed as a pragmatic move on the part of the barons, few of whom wished further bloodshed. Historians derive this view from diﬀering accounts of the chroniclers, who oﬀered reasons as varied as a baronial distaste for continuing war and destruction, their fear of backing the losing side, or the persuasive inﬂuence of church leaders.30 A simpler explanation is the military one: Henry’s plans were dashed when he discovered that Stephen had arrived with a numerically superior force. Henry of Huntingdon writes, “he [Stephen] gathered all the forces from the lands in his power and came to overawe the duke. But the duke, quite unmoved by fear, even though he was outnumbered by the royal army . . . drew up his lines and marched in splendour against the king.” Henry’s followers had already balked once at ﬁghting Stephen’s larger army at Malmesbury earlier in the year, so it is no surprise to see them recoil from battle once more. Stephen’s soldiers, on the other hand, forsook battle because they were not expecting a relief action, not a large pitched battle. Huntingdon again: “when the royal army saw the enemy battle lines unexpectedly rising up against them, they were struck by a sudden panic.”31 The shift from relief action to pitched battle accounts for the panic in Stephen’s ranks: the king’s barons had simply not planned on ﬁghting Henry in the ﬁeld. Decisive battles were not entirely absent from the anarchy, as the Battle of the Standard in 1138 and the Battle of Lincoln in 1141 demonstrate, but to ﬁght a decisive battle without prior warning was an entirely diﬀerent aﬀair. As it was, Henry’s nobles did not like the odds and pushed for a resolution, which the other side more than welcomed. None of the contemporary accounts preclude this interpretation: Crouch’s “dissident barons” certainly had, as Slade argues, “no wish to ﬁght,” but their concerns were military in nature, not political or religious. And given this military interpretation, statements such as Emilie Amt’s, “on the whole, the barons were determined to prevent a military victory by one side or the other” are too decisive and serve to obscure practical considerations of the nobility’s

30 This ecclesiastical inﬂuence, if true, was of the highest order; one of Henry’s charters at Crowmarsh was attested by Theobald of Canterbury and Roger, archdeacon of Canterbury and later Archbishop of York; see Regesta Regis, no. 491. See Appleby, Reign of King Stephen, 189–90, for a good discussion of the pertinent accounts. 31 Historia Anglorum, IV: 34.

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perception of warfare.32 Henry was too ambitious and his barons had to reel the young duke in before he committed a foolish mistake, but while we can criticize Henry’s generalship here we cannot simultaneously dub him as an avoider of battle. Coleshill Wood, 1157 Henry II was clearly frustrated in his early attempts to draw opponents into battle, but he ﬁnally got his chance in 1157 during his campaign against Owain ap Gwynedd in northern Wales. Henry’s army mustered at a point south of Chester and set out in July, heading along the Dee estuary in a northwesterly fashion. His army was composed of several parts: heavy cavalry and infantry, a contingent of archers recruited in Shropshire, and a ﬂeet operating in the mouth of the Dee.33 Henry dispatched his ﬂeet to the isle of Anglesey further to the northwest to conduct ravaging operations against the Welshmen there. The landing operation was a disaster as the Welsh villagers, uniting together in a show of force, killed many of the English and drove the rest back to their ships. On the mainland, the Welsh host had occupied a blockading position across the main road to the town of Ruddlan, ﬂanked on one side by the Dee and on the other by the Coleshill Wood, looking to prevent Henry’s march north. Henry had turned his attention to the road before him. The Welsh had dug defensive ditches in front of their position and were ideally situated to receive a cavalry charge, although the Welsh themselves, men generally suited skirmishing and ambushing with light weapons, were not. It is unlikely that many of Owain’s men had ever faced a heavy cavalry charge; nevertheless, they were determined to ﬁght a battle against the English.34 They perhaps hoped to inﬂict enough casualties on the ﬁrst rush so as to dissuade Henry from trying

32

Crouch, Reign of King Stephen, 269; Slade, “Wallingford Castle,” 43; E. Amt, The Accession of Henry II in England: Royal Government Restored 1149–1159 (Woodbridge, 1993), 12. 33 D. J. C. King, “The Fight at Coleshill,” Welsh History Review 2 (1965): 369; Lloyd, History of Wales, II: 497. 34 The vernacular accounts of the battle are Hergest, 135; Peniarth, 59; Brenhinedd y Saesson, 159; Annales Cambriae, 46–7. For Welsh armament in the twelfth century, see F. Suppe, Military Institutions on the Welsh Marches: Shropshire, 1066–1300 (Woodbridge, 1994), 7–8.

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again.35 A group of Welsh skirmishers also hid in the trees on Owain’s left ﬂank, commanded by his sons David and Conan. It is now clear that Henry II was well apprised of both his enemy’s defensive posture and Welsh methods of warfare, despite the fact that 1157 was his ﬁrst foray into that country. Riding with him into Gwynedd were both of Owain’s brothers Cadwaladr and Madog: Madog accompanied the ﬂeet that landed at Anglesey, and Cadwaladr, who had improved his own stature by marrying Alice de Clare, sister of Gilbert de Clare, earl of Hertford (d. 1152), received an estate in Shropshire from Henry and rode with the king on the Welsh campaign. Joining these men were Hywel ab Ieuaf and Madog’s other brother Iorwerth Goch.36 Also beside the king was Eustace ﬁtz John, the constable of Chester and a veteran who had fought alongside David I at the Battle of the Standard in 1138. In addition to such invaluable local insight, Anglo-Norman military intelligence was quite good for its time and notably so in the reign of Henry II.37 In response to the fortiﬁed Welsh main body and their protective ﬂankers, Henry divided his army into two portions, one to address each threat. The barons and cavalry, alongside the largest portion of the army, marched towards Owain’s position across the road. Henry himself took the remainder of his troops, principally composed of infantry, and entered the Coleshill Wood with Eustace ﬁtz John and a few other retainers. Fierce ﬁghting erupted in the forest as Henry’s men encountered the Welshmen under Conan and David. Although previous interpretations as well as the contemporary monastic chronicles contend that the king was taken unawares and ambushed, Henry’s push through the woods was a pincher maneuver designed to trap Owain between the two English divisions.38 The course of the battle, however, did not go as Henry had intended. As guerilla warriors the Welsh were in their element and the English took heavy losses. Henry himself disappeared, leading his knights to believe him dead, and Henry of Essex, the royal constable, threw

35

King, “Fight at Coleshill,” 372. J. Hosler, “Henry II’s Military Campaigns in Wales, 1157 and 1165,” JMMH 2 (2004): 57–9. See also The Acts of Welsh Rulers, 1120–1283, eds. H. Pryce and C. Insley (Cardiﬀ, 1005), 2–3 and 23, for discussions of these Welsh supporters. 37 See also J. O. Prestwich, “Military Intelligence under the Norman and Angevin Kings,” in Law and Government in Medieval England and Normandy, 18–19. 38 Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 107–8; Hosler, “Campaigns in Wales,” 65–7. 36

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down the royal banner and ﬂed. The standard was retrieved by Roger, earl of Clare (d. 1173), who rallied the remaining troops into order and led their retreat backwards out of the forest.39 Once out of danger they were rejoined by their king, for Henry II had been hurt but not killed and somehow dragged himself out of the woods. Eustace ﬁtz John and Robert de Courcy were both slain in the action but the army was not a complete loss, and Henry led his soldiers to rejoin the main host on the road. The two divisions joined ranks and proceeded cautiously along the road towards the Welsh position, which had now been abandoned.40 Upon receiving word of Henry’s ﬂanking maneuver and fearing encirclement, Prince Owain led his men in a retreat to the northwest. Henry continued to march into Gwynedd, took some hostages, and was occasionally harassed by the Welsh, but he faced no more open battles. Henry of Essex, for his cowardice and untimely betrayal of the king during a battle, later accepted trial by single combat against Robert de Montfort and was defeated.41 Vale of Ceiriog, 1165 Coleshill Wood was not Henry’s last battle against the Welsh princes, and once more in 1165 he would take the considerable risk of sending an army into battle against them. For this campaign, the logistical preparations suggest that the king wished to be done with Wales through an all-out assault, and considering his military success on the Continent in the early 1160s, he had every reason to feel conﬁdent about his chances. Moreover, he had already faced the Welsh in battle in 1157 and was now personally acquainted with their tactics and resolve. The king joined the bulk of his army at Shrewsbury; it thereafter moved to Oswestry, the bastion of Shropshire, in August before crossing the March into Wales.42 As Henry led his army west

39

Chronicle of Jocelin of Brakelond, 69–70. The falling of a standard signaled defeat in medieval warfare; see M. Bennett, “Wace and Warfare,” in ANW, 247. 40 Eyton, Court, Household, and Itinerary, 28; Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 108; Descriptio, 138. 41 Chronicle of Joscelin of Brakelond, 68–71; Ymagines Historiarum, I: 310. Henry of Essex retired as a monk of Reading in 1163 but the date of his death is obscure; see Keats-Rohan, Domesday Descendants II, 449–50. 42 For analyses of the logistics involved, see Keefe, Feudal Assessments, 27–9; idem, “The 1165 Levy for the Army of Wales,” Notes and Queries 227 (1982): 194–6; and

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the Welsh, aware of his presence, advanced east and halted at Corwen. The Welsh were led by an assortment of princes, including Owain ap Gwynedd, Rhys ap Deheubarth, Einion Clud, Cadwallon ap Madog, and Owain Cyfeiliog of southern Powys. A letter sent from Owain to Louis VII after the battle states that the Welsh had a combined force of ﬁve diﬀerent armies, all united in opposition to Henry II’s advance.43 The collected armies of Wales and Henry’s levies closed in a dense wood, separated only by the Vale of Ceiriog. A standoﬀ similar to those between Duke Henry and King Stephen in 1153 ensued in which no commander dared enter the woods unprotected. Recalling his experience in 1157, Henry refused to again be trapped in a forest. His solution was to cut down the trees between the two armies, probably in an eﬀort to goad the Welsh, who were by comparison the less disciplined force, into battle.44 Interestingly, the Welsh chronicles state that the Welsh were “leaderless”; whether this was literally true or a commentary upon the fragmented nature of the alliance is unknown.45 In any case, Henry’s ploy succeeded: the Welshmen charged imprudently into the Vale to engage the English army in ﬁerce hand-to-hand combat. We have scarcely any details about the progress of the battle, but it is clear that neither side was able to gain an advantage; indeed, the Welsh proved to be better melee ﬁghters than anticipated. Both sides took heavy losses. Henry became frustrated at the battle’s progress, and before a decisive outcome was reached by either side he withdrew his troops and retreated southwest to reconsider the situation. The Welsh undoubtedly took this to be a great victory, while the English army could only ponder developments with some regret. Owain later claimed that more of Henry’s men were killed than his own.46 With the safety of his army in mind, and knowing ﬁrsthand the propensity of the Welsh to use guerilla tactics, Henry led his

Warren, Henry II, 158. On Oswestry, see J. E. Lloyd, “Oswestry as a Link between England and Wales,” Archaeologia Cambrensis 78 (1923): 196–202; and Suppe, Military Institutions, 63–85. 43 Acts of Welsh Rulers, 15 and 41; for Owain’s letter, see ibid., no. 196. 44 See Hosler, “Military Campaigns in Wales,” 69–70, for arguments to this eﬀect. This tactic is hinted at in De re militari, III: 6, and was actually employed against the Welsh in 1094 by William Rufus; see Suppe, Military Institutions, 20. 45 Peniarth, 63; Hergest, 145; Brenhinedd y Saesson, 167; Annales Cambriae, 50. 46 Acts of Welsh Rulers, no. 196.

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army to a safe location in the hills of Berwyn. The high ground protected his army from the Welsh but not the weather: a chance storm struck and supplies were unable to move through the wet and muddy passes in the hills. We may also surmise that troop morale decreased in relation to disappearing provisions and soaking garments. Although Lynn Nelson has argued that guerilla warfare had beaten the English, it is clear that failure came through an inadequate eﬀort in battle followed by inclement weather.47 Henry had failed to win a decisive victory over an enemy met in a proper ﬁeld of battle, but it was not for a lack of trying: the battle-seeker was still very much at large. Chênebrun, 1168; Verneuil, 1173 Henry II’s battles in Wales were followed by later examples in Normandy of his seeking battle, and they are equally instructive. Following the 1165 Welsh campaign, the next major period of warfare was a lengthy aﬀair in Henry’s domains on the Continent that ran the entire year of 1168. Beginning in Poitou, he besieged castles, destroyed villages that had given the rebels support, and garrisoned several castles. Next, he burnt forty towns in Ponthieu before ﬁnally catching up to Louis VII’s army. With Henry so engaged in Flanders, Louis had made his own dash into Normandy, attacked and burned the town of Chênebrun, and took four knights hostage. This was to be Louis’ only victory in the war, and when Henry heard the news about Chênebrun he wheeled his army around and marched south. Incredibly, he caught up to the French army’s rearguard and attacked, capturing Philip of Flanders’ steward with a giant hook (or crow) and killing several others. When the ﬁghting was over, Henry resumed his march of devastation, this time in the countryside of Perche to the southeast, destroying the castles of Brezolles and Châteauneuf, and engaging in other warlike activities.48 This skirmish at Chênebrun is signiﬁcant: once again, he had marched to the relief of a town and sought to inﬂict causalities on the attacking army.

47

L. H. Nelson, The Normans in South Wales, 1070–1171 (Austin, 1966), 128. The whole series of events is recorded in Torigini, 236–7; see Eyton, Court, Household, and Itinerary, 116–7, for a reckoning of the precise dates. 48

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A similar action occurred at Verneuil in 1173 during the ﬁrst phase of the Great Revolt. Marching quickly to provide succor to the garrison besieged by Louis, Henry arrayed his troops on a hillside and dispatched messengers to the French camp. Why Henry did not alert Verneuil itself as to his presence is unknown, but it may be that Henry was too distant from the town and he chose to send word directly to his foe ﬁrst. Louis sent two earls and an archbishop to negotiate, and Henry replied with a ﬁerce voice, “tell your king that I am at hand” At sunrise, Louis and his army were nowhere to be found, for the French war council had resolved not to ﬁght but to retire. Before departing, Louis cleverly informed Verneuil that Henry had missed the three-day timeframe, at which the defenders upheld their end of the bargain and surrendered. The French promptly sacked the town before withdrawing into the countryside; upon hearing of Louis’s duplicitous actions, Henry set out after the French rearguard and before nightfall “slew many of them, and took considerable numbers.”49 The safe interpretation of this chain of events may be to call the relief of Verneuil a Vegetian situation in which battle had become a last resort, what Morillo has dubbed the last hammer in the toolbox.50 On the other hand, we should consider the possibility that Henry was not just threatening but actively seeking battle. Roger of Howden and Jordan Fantosme oﬀer hints as to the king’s purpose. Howden writes that Henry arranged his troops for the express “purpose of engaging with the king of France.” In Fantosme’s chronicle the king declares that his enemies will see many a shield, horse, and cavalry charge before he is driven from the ﬁeld of battle.51 Why would Henry form up his lines in battle array before sending word to Louis? If he wanted to persuade the French king that succor had arrived, surely the knowledge of several thousand enemy soldiers would have been suﬃcient. Instead, Henry was preparing for a ﬁght that might just be forthcoming. His eagerness to ﬁght is further proven by his attack on the ﬂeeing French; had he only had the relief of Verneuil on his mind, wouldn’t he have marched ﬁrst to the town after Louis’ departure? The evidence indicates that Henry

49 50 51

Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 174–5. Morillo, “Battle Seeking,” 25. Chronica, II: 50; Fantosme, 6.

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twice wanted battle, before Louis chose to retreat and after the sack of the town, and regardless of his motives he was yet again committing soldiers to the clash of arms. Dol, 1173 Following his action against Louis at Verneuil, the king now turned his attention to the rebels in Brittany, Hugh, earl of Chester (d. 1181) and Ralph de Fougères (d. 1196). The king remained in Rouen but dispatched soldiers towards Avranches, a mass of hired Brabanters and some Norman cavalry under William de Humet but kept his familia in Rouen.52 Ralph de Fougères determined that the Castle Dol, in which they were stationed, was inadequate for defense and elected to meet their enemies in the ﬁeld. Roger of Howden, present at Henry’s mobile court during the Revolt, notes that the rebels drew up in proper array, as did the king’s advance force. The evidence seems to indicate a dual cavalry charge with foot soldiers following behind, and many lances were broken in the contest. Robert of Torigini states that the rebel horsemen were put to ﬂight and many of the common soldiers were killed, and Howden claims that 1,500 Bretons fell in the Battle of Dol.53 The remaining rebels ﬂed into either the town or castle of Dol, and both were invested by the Normans and Brabanters. In the meantime, back in Rouen Henry II heard news of the victory, gathered the bulk of his remaining army, and marched towards Dol. Upon arriving, he ordered the deployment of his stone-engines (perrarias) and other machines of war (alias machinas bellicas). The rebels were now in a desperate position. Already cut oﬀ from the town of Dol and surrounded by the Brabanters and knights serving under William de Humet, they now faced the energetic king of the English and his siege weaponry. Being unable to defend the castle properly, Hugh of Chester surrendered it to the king on 26 August.54 While the Battle of Dol constituted several diﬀerent military actions, in the background stands Henry directing his forces and sending his armies into harm’s way. Skeptics may retort that Henry himself was not present for the battle; moreover, he could not have known that a

52 53 54

Historia Rerum Anglicarum, II: 172; Fantosme, 15. Torigini, 260; Chronica, II: 51. Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, I: 57; Chronica, II: 52; Torigini, 260.

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battle would take place and not just a siege. Yet most of the advance force was cavalry able enough to form ranks and withstand a charge: this suggests that Henry had at least entertained the possibility of a chance encounter and ﬁgured the composition of the army accordingly. Châteauroux, 1187 Although Henry II’s aggression diminished later in his reign and especially during the 1180s, there were still moments when he sought to battle his enemies in the ﬁeld. Such was the case at Châteauroux on 23 June 1187, two years before his death.55 It might have been a battle on the scale of Hastings or Lincoln had it occurred. Henry marched with a large feudal host and a number of Welsh mercenaries (probably archers, as they were from Deheubarth) under contract. These were transported to Normandy and joined the levy. Thereafter, the king divided his army into four parts, giving one each to Richard and John, a third to his bastard son Geoﬀrey Plantagenet, and the fourth to William de Mandeville, earl of Essex (d. 1189). His two sons marched south through the Vexin to Berry and fortiﬁed Châteauroux, to the west of Bourges. Philip Augustus proceeded into Berry with an army and attacked the two castles of Issoudon and Fréteval, which were surrendered to him by Urso de Fréteval and Robert II, count of Nevers.56 Having gathered some momentum, Philip then moved to Châteauroux and besieged Richard and John within its walls. They put up a stout defense until Henry arrived to relieve them. Instead of riding away, Philip boldly led his troops into the ﬁeld and formed them into battle array. Henry and his sons left the castle and did the same. William of Newburgh describes the scene as two great armies of thousands of Christians, prepared to spill their blood for the pride of their kings.57 Although Gilbert of Mons states that the count of Hainault brought 110 knights and 80 sergeants to Philip’s side, a full reckoning of the numbers involved escapes us. Yet the Battle of Châteauroux was not to be, for Gilbert of Mons

55 This ﬁgure discounts Henry’s non-action at Toulouse in 1159; there, Henry did not decline battle but a siege against a fortiﬁed town. Refusal to invest a town cannot be employed as evidence of his avoidance of battle. 56 Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, II: 6–7; Chronica, II: 317–18. 57 Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 248–9.

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also relates that the battle was to be fought instead between champion knights from each side. Those ﬁghting for Philip were the counts of Hainault (Baldwin V), Flanders (Philip), and Champagne (Henry II), but we do not know the identities of King Henry II’s champions—perhaps son Richard or William Marshal? Before the jousting could begin, a two-year truce was created by the bishops and the cardinal sub-deacon Octavian, who preferred that the kings expend their energies on crusade.58 Once again Henry had faced his greatest nemesis in the ﬁeld without result, but was that truly his wish? One could argue either way: while he had hired mercenaries for the war and probably wanted to use them, Henry had also spent much of the 1180s seeking results through peaceful treaties. Likely, Philip was also adverse to the idea of open battle, probably viewing it as too hazardous and not willing to endure a decisive loss so early in his reign. Such is suggested in the Chronicle of Hainault: it is the only document to mention the proposition of settling the dispute through knightly combat. There are other battles and non-actions from the reign of Henry II that are not discussed here. Some point to his desire to make peace through treaties and reconciliation, others his need to crush the opposition that lay before him. Sometimes he threatened battle by using his armies to persuade an enemy to surrender. For example, at Pontorson in 1171 Guihomar, viscount of Léhon, surrendered after being terriﬁed by the group of knights sent by the king to crush him; at Carlisle in 1186, Roland ﬁtz Uhtred surrendered at Henry’s court before the English army could reach Scotland. These incidents involved his use of numerically superior armies to dissuade further rebellion: battle was unlikely to be joined because the odds were so insurmountable for his enemies. My examples of Henry’s battleseeking are not intended to prove that he was a consistently belligerent king but only to prove a point. In the larger scheme of his reign as duke and king, Henry actively looked for opportunities to engage his opponents in the clash of arms. His reputation as an

58 Chronicle of Hainault, 107–8; Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, II: 6–7; Chronica, II: 317–18; Gervase, I: 369–71; Ymagines Historiarum, II: 49. On the question of William Marshal and the events here, see N. Vincent, “William Marshal, King Henry II, and the Honour of Châteauroux,” Archives: The Journal of the British Records Association 25 (2000): 1–15.

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avoider of battles is therefore erroneous and needs to be eliminated from further scholarly studies of medieval generalship. I suspect that future rejoinders may sound something like, “yes, but none of Henry II’s battles were large-scale, set-piece, decisive battles!” At ﬁrst glance those voices appear to ring true, for on several occasions Henry was in a favorable position to ﬁght a set-piece battle but was denied. He was also not present for what was arguably the most decisive battle of his reign.59 This was the ‘Fight at Fornham’ in October 1173, in which his justiciar Richard de Lucy destroyed the Flemish army of Robert of Leicester in England, losing only 300 men while purportedly slaying over 10,000.60 On a theoretical level, however, we need to ask why these decisive battles matter. Are they the best way to judge the abilities of a military commander? John France has noted that most kings actually had little experience handling large armies and when faced with the prospect were unable to do so: a lack of experience haunted Louis VI at Brémule in 1119, and St. Louis IX had not commanded a large army before Mansourah in 1250.61 Even so, both kings remain highly-regarded medieval generals. Moreover, Henry II can be reasonably compared to William Rufus, Henry I, and King John, none of whom, despite their other military accomplishments, ever fought equivalent rebel armies in the open ﬁeld.62 And what about Morillo’s argument that sieges, not battles, are better standards for success? Not only were they were more common, but in Vegetian-style warfare full campaigns could be conducted without a battle being fought at all.63 Hans Delbrück once argued that generals should be judged by the success of their campaigns in attaining military and political objectives, no matter what strategy they operated under.64 Here Henry

59 Excluding Drincourt in 1173, which Gillingham has called a minor incident; see “William the Marshal,” 252. 60 This is undoubtedly a suspicious headcount (Beeler reduces the 10,000 eﬀectives given by Roger of Howden below even the more reasonable 3,000 oﬀered by Ralph Diceto but does not give a number himself; see Warfare in England, 176), but it was nonetheless a decisive victory that probably saved England from the rebels. 61 France, Western Warfare, 140–1. 62 M. Strickland, “Against the Lord’s Anointed,” 67. 63 Morillo, Warfare under the Anglo-Norman Kings, 190–1. 64 In his comparison of the strategies of Napoleon and Frederick the Great; see History of the Art of War, Vol. IV: the Dawn of Modern Warfare, trans. W. J. Renfroe (Reprint, Lincoln, NE, 1990), 421–39.

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II holds a decisive advantage: of his 36 separate campaigns only three failed to achieve their goals.65 In addition, Henry was an unstoppable besieger of fortresses, had a mind keen to the strategic advantages of castles and the tactical uses of mercenaries, employed feudal traditions to his logistical advantage, defeated a series of widespread rebellions, invaded Ireland, and carved out a massive empire in just under eighteen years. Does the lack of a decisive, set-piece contest in the ﬁeld diminish his record all that much? Should it? Vegetian-Style Campaigns Henry II did not always pursue a strategy of battle, however, and there are several examples of his waging what might be called Vegetian campaigns. Battle was not always in the king’s best interest, and at any rate a policy of unmitigated ﬁghting would inevitably reduce his pool of available ﬁghting-men and thus his ability to govern his wide domains. Yet there does seem to a theme connecting his logistical strategies: Henry looked to ravage terrain, burn villages, and besiege castles primarily during campaigns in which he sought to acquire additional territories. There was little to be gained by ravaging domains under his control unless he was dealing with rebellious elements, as his destructive campaigns in Brittany during the 1160s testify. When he looked to expand his territory he tended to follow a three-part strategy. The ﬁrst two elements, the fortiﬁcation and strengthening friendly castles and the investing of castles and towns held against him, were interchangeable, depending upon conditions. The third step was to ravage the enemy’s landscape if he remained obstinate. Many of his campaigns follow this general pattern, and what follows are the major examples. Anjou and Normandy, 1152 By 1152 Henry’s growing power was beginning to concern Louis VII, especially after his reception of the county of Anjou, and plans were hatched to check the young duke’s growing power. While Henry was at Barﬂeur preparing to sail to England that summer, Louis and

65 See the appendix for the campaign list. The three losing eﬀorts were Toulouse (1159), Wales (1165), and Berry/Le Mans (1189).

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his ally Henry, count of Champagne, besieged Neuf Marché near the end of June. At the same time, Henry’s disinherited brother Geoﬀrey marched south into Anjou. Henry decided to ﬁrst relieve Neuf Marché but could not amass his army in time and the castle fell. There are two accounts of its fall: Robert of Torigini claims the castle was surrendered by its garrison in a treacherous move, while Henry of Huntingdon says that Louis took the strong castle by force and then gave it to Eustace.66 In either case Henry had lost the stronghold, but he responded with a series of counterattacks into the Vexin and Dreux, the lands of Louis’ brother Robert, count of Dreux (d. 1188). He left a portion of his army in Normandy for defensive purposes before marching into Anjou near at the end of August to confront Geoﬀrey. He persuaded the castellans of Chinon, Loudun, and Mirebeau to surrender and successfully besieged Montsoreau, capturing the bulk of his brother’s army. The coalition was back on its heels, and Louis, having now lost position in both Normandy and Anjou, sought and gained a truce.67 Without ﬁghting a decisive battle Henry had silenced a threats to his power in two separate provinces, and his strength was such that he was yet able to launch an invasion of England the following January. England, Mid-1153 The evidence for Henry’s movements during the campaign of spring and early summer of 1153 is largely found in his surviving ducal charters. He ﬁrst visited the loyal stronghold at Bristol and then proceeded to Southampton, receiving the port in either February or March, as well as the support of Joscelin of Louvain, the castellan of Arundel and someone with close connections to Stephen’s household.68 Henry held Easter court at Gloucester on 19 April and thereafter, perhaps hoping to acquire more support from the English baronage, moved northeast out of the Severn valley through Berkeley, Evesham, and Dudley, ultimately arriving at Leicester for Whitsun (7 June).69 At some point in June Henry took a short trip southwest

66

Torigini, 165; Historia Anglorum, IV: 31. Torigini, 166; Gervase, I: 150. See also Warren, Henry II, 45–8, for political implications of the war. 68 Crouch, Reign of King Stephen, 264. 69 These movements are indicated in the charters; see Regesta Regis, nos. 306, 321, 962; the Leicester charters are nos. 104, 379, and 582. 67

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to Coventry, where he issued a grant at Stoneleigh Abbey that was witnessed by Roger of Hereford.70 At roughly the same time a portion of the duke’s forces moved against the castle at Warwick, where Robert’s half-sister Gundreda tricked her husband Roger’s garrison into surrendering to the Angevins. Her method is unknown, although Robert of Torigini claims that she expelled the guards herself.71 Robert of Leicester was not present at Coventry, but if we are to believe the Gesta Stephani’s statement that Henry next attacked Tutbury at the instigation of the earl, Henry must have returned to Leicester before moving northwest to that town. Tutbury put up a stiﬀ resistance, for it was well-fortiﬁed on a hill of rock and bordered by the River Dove.72 Its defender, Robert Ferrers, eventually agreed to a truce, gave the castle over to Henry, and pledged his allegiance to the duke’s cause.73 Henry’s next moves against Stephen’s allies were aggressive and fast. He arrived in Bedford and burned the town but its garrison held; rather than settle down for a lengthy siege, Henry decided to move against Wallingford in the south and his tour through the midlands ended. Crouch is probably correct in asserting that his actions against Warwick, Tutbury, and Bedford were intended as supportive actions for his allies Robert of Leicester and Ranulf of Chester; as such, they constituted less of a grand strategy than suggested by some.74 Nevertheless, from mid-June to early August Henry had successfully received three castles and sacked two towns, demonstrating both his ability at siege warfare and the rapidity of his movements, traits that would be central to his future military pursuits. The spring and summer of 1153 illustrate Henry’s preference for reassuring allies and taking geographically strategic towns and castles. England, Fall 1153 By the end of August 1153 Duke Henry was on the move once again, leading a campaign north into the Midlands. His ﬁrst objective was Stamford, at which two charters place Henry by 31 August: the duke marched swiftly north, took the town, and besieged the 70

Regesta Regis, no. 841. Torigini, 172. 72 P. S. Fry, Castles of Britain and Ireland (New York, 1997), 187. 73 Gesta Stephani, 234–5. 74 Crouch, Reign of King Stephen, 268. Henry is valorized to some extent for waging a deliberate campaign by J. W. Leedom, “The English Settlement of 1153,” History 65 (1980): 358. 71

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castle there. The Stamford garrison held out in the expectation of succor from Stephen, but as he was at that time busy besieging Hugh Bigod in his castle at Ipswich, the king was unable to oﬀer any support. Consequently, Stamford’s garrison surrendered and handed the castle over to Henry.75 Once it fell, Henry resolved to relieve his ally Bigod, and perhaps sensing another opportunity to engage Stephen directly. Henry marched southeast into East Anglia and headed for the coast. Ipswich fell before Henry arrived, and if we are to believe William of Newburgh the duke promptly turned around and marched back north, passing Stamford on the way to Nottingham.76 Just as Henry had attacked Tutbury at the instigation of his newfound ally Robert of Leicester, so also he moved into Nottingham in an act of assistance towards Ranulf of Chester. Ranulf had been in Henry’s party since the young man’s knighting in 1149, and Henry repaid the favor by marching against the earl’s enemy Peverel, the constable of Nottingham. Strategically, the move did little to improve Henry’s position in England, for it lay north of almost every signiﬁcant conﬂict since 1149. Considering Stephen’s progress in Suﬀolk, however, Henry’s own campaign had been dealt a setback and a quick victory in the north could only help persuade his retainers of his loyalty. Henry sacked and plundered Nottingham, and in response the castle garrison set the town buildings ablaze, either to deprive the duke of booty or to drive him oﬀ. Due to either the ﬁre or the castle’s strong location on Castle Rock, Henry chose not to besiege the fortress but instead retired and traveled south.77 Toulouse, Summer 1159 Very recently, David Carpenter called Henry II’s campaign to Toulouse in the summer of 1159 “the greatest defeat of his career.”78

75 Regesta Regis, nos. 81 and 492. Gesta Stephani, 236–7, wrongly places the siege of Stamford after Henry’s summer actions against Warwick, Tutbury, and Bedford. Other chronicles agree that the siege occurred after the destruction of Crowmarsh Castle; see Torigini, 174; and Historia Anglorum, IV: 36. 76 Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 89–90; at Ipswich, Stephen curiously styled himself as duke of Normandy; see Regesta Regis, no. 118. 77 Historia Anglorum, IV: 36; Gesta Stephani, 236–7, discusses Ranulf ’s conﬂict with Peverel of Nottingham but does not describe ﬁre. Like Nottingham, the castles of Bedford, Ipswich, and Nottingham escaped Henry’s clutches but only because he decided not to move against them. 78 D. Carpenter, The Struggle for Mastery: Britain, 1066–1284 (Oxford, 2003), 194.

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Given the size of the army summoned, the extensive logistics involved, and the fact that Toulouse was never taken, this seems a reasonable assessment at face value. However, historians have failed to judge the campaign in its full context. Comments such Carpenter’s exemplify the way in which Henry’s military endeavors have been discounted by a surface examinations of events. Never was Henry defeated at Toulouse—leaving aside his failure to attack the city itself, Henry’s summer campaign was by all other measures a success. After forming an alliance with Raymond IV, count of Barcelona (d. 1162), an enemy of Raymond V of Toulouse, Henry began in March to levy the feudal host from Normandy, Anjou, Maine, Gascony, Brittany, Aquitaine, and even England in a great show of force.79 The collected army gathered at Poitiers on 24 June; John of Salisbury calls the soldiers “Toulouse-trotters” and suggests that they may have received aid from Lisieux and Bayeux on their way to Poitou.80 Moving south, the army ﬁrst marched from Poitiers to Saintes to Périgueux, and then to Agen on the River Garonne, which was the muster point, and then west to Toulouse.81 Henry had the advantage of marching through friendly territory for most of the campaign, and the army arrived before the walls of Toulouse by the ﬁrst week of July. The sudden appearance of Louis VII within the city immediately complicated the whole aﬀair. The scene must have been eerily familiar: in 1151, Duke Henry had twice been thwarted in his ambitions to ﬁght Louis at Arques and Torigini when his barons refused to attack the French in the absence of some oﬀense to Henry’s honor. Henry held a meeting with his barons in order to ponder the larger political implications.82 All of his advisors save Chancellor Thomas Becket voted against attacking the city. Becket, not having any practical military experience under his belt, wanted to storm Toulouse without delay and was roundly denounced by the barons. While Becket’s biographer William FitzStephen argues that the chancellor’s advice would have led to the city’s capture, Henry saw no wisdom in breaking his oath of fealty to Louis.83 At best, he 79

Gervase, I: 167. Letters of John of Salisbury, Volume One, no. 110. 81 Martindale, “Siege of Toulouse,” 133. 82 Draco Normannicus, 608–9. 83 William FitzStephen, Mats., III: 33. Warren has argued that Becket’s faulty advice led to Henry’s pressing him into the Archbishopric of Canterbury; see Henry II, 91–2. 80

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might take the city and provoke further warfare with the French; at worst, he would be frustrated and his own vassals would follow his lead and break their own oaths when convenient. Plans to besiege the city were discarded, and Henry’s army moved away to ravage, burn villages, and capture Cahors. The precise military reasons for Henry’s failure to attack the city are many and up for debate. In the most far-reaching article on the subject in recent memory, Jane Martindale suggests that Toulouse was a very diﬃcult city to besiege, owing to its geographical features and fresh water supply, a strong system of protection with three sections of walls, and a determined citizenry loyal to the counts of St. Gilles.84 Yet it seems unlikely that Henry was dissuaded by the tactical challenge of investing the city. In all of his years of warfare up to 1159 there are few examples of Henry abandoning a siege or declining a target perceived to be impregnable. Given the principals riding alongside him, as well as the lineage of his wife Eleanor, the king probably also had been given some information about the city, its geography, and its defenses. Indeed, the collected army was the grandest of his reign and well-suited to a protracted siege of a great city. It would have been a diﬃcult siege, but Henry only had to address one section of its walls, not the entire city. Certainly the strategic value of Toulouse and the eﬀort put into the campaign was worth at least one attempt. Interestingly, there is no evidence that Henry ever tried to attack Toulouse. Although John of Salisbury refers to a siege in Policraticus, the book was written before Henry’s army had reached the city. John had no way of knowing whether or not Henry had actually besieged Toulouse.85 There is no mention of a blockade in the sources, indicating that the king convened his war council before having a chance to array his army around the city. His failure to probe the city’s defenses is suggestive of the king’s ambitions on his grand campaign. Jane Martindale also ﬁnds his ravaging campaign in September puzzling, but theorizes that Henry’s actions were “intended to produce further territorial gains.”86 Capturing land and fortifying castles would greatly aid Henry’s grip on the south, but the primary concern

84 85 86

Martindale, “Siege of Toulouse,” 137–41. Frivolities of Courtiers, 410. Martindale, “Siege of Toulouse,” 137–41.

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of both Henry and Louis was Toulouse itself. It is more likely that Henry was trying to goad Louis VII out of the city, for it was the French king—and no one else—who had prevented a siege. Ultimately, I believe the traditional conclusion—that Henry refused the siege out of respect for his lord—is still the most likely cause of both his ravaging tactics and ultimate withdrawal from Languedoc. In practical terms the setback did little to dissuade the king himself from further campaigning that year. He was forced to return the bulk of his army north, where Louis’ brothers Henry, archbishop of Rheims (d. 1175), and Robert of Dreux had sent raids into Normandy while Henry was in the south. Henry left a contingent of soldiers in Languedoc to patrol the region and enforce his rule after the army’s departure, but his barons, demoralized by recent events, refused the Toulouse command to a man. The only person willing to remain in the south was Becket, ﬁlled with ideals of knighthood and glorious combat. Armed as a knight, the chancellor managed to capture three castles with the force left him as well as pursue bands of those loyal to Raymond across the Garonne.87 In the meantime, the king was still able to put his army to some good use in Normandy. Henry ﬁrst moved to the Limousin and thence north to Beauvais, probably reaching the city by way of Normandy and then the Vexin, rather than marching straight north through Paris. There he ravaged Bishop Henry’s lands and destroyed the border fortress at Gerberoy, although one of its towers was defended by hurled, ﬁery projectiles and managed to hold out. More notably, Henry II seized from Simon II, count of Evreux (d. 1180/81), the castles of Rochefort, Epernon, and Montfort, giving the king control over transportation and communication routes across a portion of the Ile-deFrance. William of Newburgh oﬀers a vague discussion of the ﬁghting and suggests that the opposing armies refused the option of open battle, thinking it to be a dubious prospect.88 Toulouse is another example of Henry’s strategy of fortify, besiege, and ravage, despite the fact that his main target was not included in the process. It is true that Henry did not capture the prime object

87 F. Barlow, Thomas Becket (Berkeley, 1986), 58. On Becket’s military adventures, see J. D. Hosler, “The Brief Military Career of Thomas Becket,” HSJ 15 (2006): 88–100. 88 Eyton, Court, Household, and Itinerary, 48; Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 130–1.

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of his campaign, but then again, he never actually invested its walls in the ﬁrst place. Clearly the acquisition of the city was a monumental concern and the campaign was in that sense a disappointment. However, Henry still made large strides in Aquitaine and Languedoc with the army he had raised, seizing castles and eﬀectively exercising his lordship. This is not to say that Henry always made the right choices on campaign or displayed a perfect strategic vision, but to fault Henry excessively for not meeting one strategic objective is rather unfair, and in the Middle Ages this critique did not hold as much weight as it does today for modern readers. Berry, Fall 1177 The campaigns into Berry were the result of the unfavorable stipulations in the Treaty of Ivry of September 1177. Henry had sought a dowry of the land through Richard’s future marriage to Louis VII’s daughter Alice, but that request was denied in the treaty; therefore, Henry determined to acquire Berry through military means. In early October 1177, Henry summoned the Norman host to Argentan and marched into Berry to force the issue. Even in this long aftermath of the rebellions, the English king was still operating from a position of military supremacy, and success came quickly. He took Châteauroux, and the town of Castres was surrendered to him as he approached. Next came the Limousin, where Henry exacted justice on rebels who had opposed him three years before and received La Marche from its Count Albert for the sum of £15,000 Angevin, twenty mules, and twenty palfreys.89 This large ﬁefdom gave Henry command over the roads from Limoges to Poitou and Berry; combined with Richard’s continuing military successes in Aquitaine, Angevin control over the south was ﬁnally beginning to tighten.90 On Christmas Eve, the king sent messengers to Louis’ court stating Henry’s intentions to travel to England and warning that any move against his lands, including those newly acquired, would be met by the force of his local deputies.

89 Chronica, II: 147; Ymagines Historiarum, I: 425. Limoges had also seen ﬁghting on Palm Sunday 1177 (17 April), when the abbot of St. Martial led an army against a host of Brabanters, slaying 200 to 2000 of them at the Battle of Malamort; see Verbruggen, Art of Warfare, 134. 90 Gillingham, Richard I, 58–62.

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Berry again became a point of contention eleven years later when Philip Augustus levied an army, invaded the land, and captured Châteauroux. In response, the Angevins launched a two-pronged attack against the French king, with Henry and his son Richard working together in a rare show of unity. Henry landed at Barﬂeur on 11 July and summoned the feudal host of Normandy; he also brought along a large force of Welsh mercenaries, upon whom he had lately depended for service.91 While Henry was gathering his forces, Richard took his army from Aquitaine and marched north into Berry, ravaging the lands of any count or baron who had thrown in with Philip. He also besieged and took the strong castle of Les Roches, capturing twenty-ﬁve knights and sixty garrison soldiers. Philip himself withdrew to France and directed his army to enter Normandy. Philip, bishop of Beauvais (d. 1217), burned the town of Blangeville and the castle of Aumarle, and the town and castle of Trou were also taken and forty of Henry’s knights were captured.92 At this point Henry was within his rights to wage war against his lord, and in previous decades he might have marched directly towards a confrontation with the French forces. In 1188, however, the king was weary of his constant need to get involved in military disputes. Characteristic of his statesmanship in the 1180s, he ﬁrst responded with a diplomatic demand for reparations by sending John, bishop of Evreux (d. 1192), and William Marshal to remind King Philip that Anjou possessed legal rights to all of Berry as well as the Vexin. The messengers were not well received, so Henry ﬁnally entered the fray feeling justiﬁed. Now the second prong of the Angevin oﬀensive materialized as the king moved his army of Normans and Welsh stipendiarii forward.93 Taking the advice of Marshal, he disbanded his army only to reassemble it in secret at Pacy-sur-Epte some days later, and on 30 August 1188 he invaded the Vexin and charged towards Mantes, burning villages as he rode.94 At Mantes he met up with Richard’s army, and the duke of Aquitaine, riding with

91

Gervase, I: 433. Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, II: 45. 93 Chronica, II: 344–5; Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, II: 45–6; Ymagines Historiarum, II: 55. 94 Painter, William Marshal, 65. 92

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William de Mandeville and the king’s familia, captured William de Barres, although he later escaped. Together the king and son made an impressive force, but they were equally eﬀective ﬁghting separately. Henry and Richard now split up and attacked diﬀerent targets. Richard set out for Berry and Henry moved to Damville, burning several villages and taking the castle, and thence to Ivry. William de Mandeville, still riding with Henry, burned the town of St. Clair, which lay within the royal demesne, as well as one of Philip’s personal gardens there. In the meantime, the king dispatched a few of his knights to probe the outskirts of Philip’s lands and search for weak points of entry.95 No more was Henry ﬁghting over disputed border lands or defending his own provinces from insurrections—this was a fast, direct series of attacks against France itself. Henry’s campaign, combined with Richard’s campaign into Berry on his southern borders, was enough to bring the French king to peace negotiations. Transport and Logistics When mounting campaigns across the water, Henry II relied heavily upon ships for the transportation of his cavalry, soldiers, and mercenaries between the Angevin domains. Unfortunately, within the large body of research on Anglo-Norman warfare during the twelfth century is a paucity of studies on English navies in the same period. Historians tend to focus their considerations of ship-borne activity in the eleventh century on Hastings and the Anglo-Saxon response to the Norman armies, pass over the twelfth century, and resume again in the thirteenth.96 Thus are the navies of the Anglo-Saxons, Vikings, and early Normans well covered, while the successors of William the Conqueror are left wanting. The most frequently noted Western naval event in the early 1100s, the White Ship disaster in

95 As Gillingham has gleaned from the Life of William Marshal, this involved riding close enough to Capetian forces to gauge their number and position, and avoiding the temptation to plunder en route so as to maintain secrecy; see “William the Marshal,” 259. 96 On the Godwin ﬂeets of 1169, see J. O. Prestwich, The Place of War in English History, 1066–1214 (Woodbridge, 2004), 30; on Hastings, B. S. Bachrach, “On the Origins of William the Conqueror’s Horse Transports,” Technology and Culture 26 (1985): 505–31.

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1120 that claimed the life of Henry I’s son William Adelin, was not even a military event. The other occasions of military transport investigated most frequently involve the Crusades. These include the ﬂeets that sailed to Lisbon in 1147 and the ships of Richard the Lionhearted sailing from Sicily during the Third Crusade. Both have received increased attention as of late.97 Other similar (but less sexy) examples of large-scale troop transport, such as the massive force of Flemish mercenaries brought to England during the Great Revolt of 1173 and 1174, are still awaiting scholarly attention. In other words, while transport to the east is documented in extensive detail the use of ships of northern Europe are generally neglected. Instead, analysis of William’s 1066 landing ﬂeet and the images of the Bayeux Tapestry are projected forward into the late 1100s. The unspoken assumption is that little changed between 1066 and the Third Crusade. A few examples should suﬃce. Susan Rose’s interesting study of naval warfare moves directly from Hastings to King John (but neglects the Third Crusade), with the only passing nod to the twelfth century being a description of the often diﬃcult winds and currents of the Channel. William Rodgers declares that after Hastings, “for a century and a half, there were no naval operations in northern waters on a large scale” and therefore moves directly to the reign of Richard I.98 While Rodgers is possibly correct about the magnitude of activities he neglects their frequency. His other contention, that notable improvements and advances in seafaring occurred not in the west but rather the east, answers the question of technology but not logistics: how badly did Western armies need ships to wage their wars? Helen Nicholson follows in Rodgers’ stead by describing the hulks, cogs, carracks, and galleys after 1000, but her examples of their use do not include the Isles.99 The most notable exception to this lack of attention seems to be N. A. M. Rodger’s

97 See, for example, Prestwich, The Place of War, 33–9; and D. S. Bachrach, Religion and the Conduct of War, c. 300–c. 1215 (Woodbridge, 2003), 129–35. 98 S. Rose, Medieval Naval Warfare, 1000 –1500 (London, 2002), 26–27; W. L. Rodgers, Naval Warfare under Oars, 4th to 16th Centuries: a Study of Strategy, Tactics and Ship Design (Annapolis, 1939), 89. An even more illustrative example is F. FernándezArmesto, “Naval Warfare after the Viking Age, c. 1100–1500,” in Medieval Warfare: a History, 230–52, which oﬀers not a single example of twelfth-century naval activity outside the Mediterranean Sea. 99 Nicholson, Medieval Warfare, 147.

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large study of the British navy, in which he pays speciﬁc attention to the reign of Henry II.100 One reason for the lack of research is the eventual disappearance of the ship-soke, an Old English system of naval obligation. The shipsokes recorded in Domesday Book require sixty warrior-seamen and a warship per 300 hides in collective districts.101 Anglo-Saxon naval activity after the reign of Alfred the Great could be signiﬁcant at times and was necessary in order to move Anglo-Saxon troops around the Danelaw. After the Conquest, the Anglo-Norman kings were more concerned with pacifying the barons of England and Normandy. Army levies were raised in each respective region and the need to transport large numbers of men across the waves diminished. This is especially clear in England, where armies simply marched north or west to Scotland and Wales. In Normandy, men raised from the barons there were in all practicalities more useful than soldiers from England, for they knew the geography and were familiar with the social-political dimensions of continental life. Thus the need for the ship-soke slowly eroded, and there are only a few sporadic references to them in the charters of Henry II.102 Other means existed for raising ships, however. The Bayeux Tapestry illustrates the building and loading of ships with men and horses for a general invasion. Its images have been analyzed in much detail, and we now know much about how William found enough ships to carry his invasion force. A portion was requisitioned from the Norman magnates: in the Ship list of William the Conqueror, William ﬁtz Osbern pries several promises of naval support out of the Conqueror’s nobles prior to the invasion of England. All but one of the men recorded in this document oﬀer at least 15 ships to the cause.103 In addition, naval mercenaries existed in Flanders from the eleventh century on and were hired by William for the 1066 invasion. If after hiring such sailors and requisitioning all seaworthy ships in the kingdom

100

N. A. M. Rodger, The Safeguard of the Sea: a Naval History of Britain, Volume One 660 –1649 (London, 1997). 101 Hollister, Military Organization, 15. 102 Such as the conﬁrmation of a soke to Roger ﬁtz Reinfrey at Woodstock 1174x1175; see Acta of Henry II and Richard I, no. 112. 103 E. M. C. van Houts, “The Ship List of William the Conqueror,” ANS 10 (1987): 159–83; see pp. 171–2 for the accuracy of the Ship list and p. 179 for a ﬁgure of the ships provided.

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the number of vessels remained lacking, an order to construct new boats would serve as a measure of last resort.104 In everyday commerce as well as issues of governance, naval activities were vital in the Angevin Empire. The most apparent illustration of this is the frequent travels of Henry II between England and the Continent. Noted for sailing to and fro with such speed that he was able to surprise his enemies with sudden appearances, Henry made up to twenty-eight Channel crossings between 1154 and 1189.105 Moreover, the Crown seems to have been very aware of the movement of boats, especially around England. While the traces of shipservice owed by steersman in the early Anglo-Norman records melt away later in the twelfth century, there survives evidence of taxes levied for the purpose of building boats.106 The collection of monies in lieu of naval service might be compared to royal use of scutage in place of physical obligation. Most of the ships were constructed by private parties because the Crown did not maintain adequate docks in which to build them.107 Instead, Henry set tolls on the Cinque ports and occasionally granted relief from that burden if men were docking only to repair their ships.108 Also during Henry’s reign we ﬁnd one of the earliest English laws regarding ships, a prohibition in the Assize of Arms that forbids the exportation of ships.109 Although Henry II’s military operations were not quite on the scale of the Conquest they were still considerable. The king rarely sailed alone: his familia would need transport as well, so what we have is really the sea-borne movement of the royal court between England and Normandy. The same situation applied to the nobles,

104 C. Gillmor, “Naval Logistics of the Cross-Channel Operation, 1066,” ANS 7 (1984): 121–22. 105 Rodger, Safeguard of the Sea, 39. 106 N. Hooper, “Some Observations on the Navy in Late Anglo-Saxon England,” in Studies in Medieval History presented to R. Allen Brown, 210–12. 107 I. Friel, “Oars, Sails and Guns: the English and War at Sea, c. 1200–c. 1500,” in War at Sea in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, eds. J. B. Hattendorf and R. W. Unger (Woodbridge, 2003), 70. 108 A. Ballard, “The Cinque Ports under Henry II,” EHR 24 (1909): 732–3; on the relief see the grants to the Abbeys of Les Dunes and Ter Doest in Acta of Henry II and Richard I, Part Two, nos. 50 and 158. 109 Petit-Dutaillis, The Feudal Monarchy, 145. For the relevant section of the Assize, see Stubbs, Select Charters, 184 no. 12: “Iterm Justitiae praecipiant per omnes comitatus, quod nullus sicut se ipsum et omnia sua diligit, emat vel vendat aliquam navem ad ducendum ab Anglia, nec aliquis praecepit rex quod nullus reciperetur ad sacramentum armorum nisi liber homo.”

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many of whom maintained similar retinues of armed followers. Less often, ships served to transport entire armies and the resources needed to supply them in the initial days of a campaign. In 1153, Henry entered England with soldiers transported on thirty-six ships, and he also invaded Ireland by ship in 1171, carrying with him a force of 500 men-at-arms as well as cavalry and archers. He owned at least one ship called an esnecca and employed one Alan Trenchemer as a commander of ships during his reign. There was no permanent base of operations for this or other vessels, however, and Portsmouth would not become the ﬁrst royal dockyard until at least 1194.110 Henry also used ships to transport supplies from England to Normandy. In 1187, Henry shipped the collected wealth he had seized from the estate of the deceased Jew Aaron of Lincoln. The ship left Shoreham but met bad weather on the journey, sinking before arriving at Dieppe as planned.111 Besides logistical operations and troop transportation, Henry also employed ships as vehicles of direct military support. There are two campaigns on which he sent soldiers to land at strategic points by way of ship, both of them in Wales. The ﬁrst might be called an early eﬀort at amphibious warfare. During his invasion of Gwynedd in 1157, Henry sent a separate force from Pembroke to the Isle of Anglesey. Led by Madog, the disinherited prince of Powys, this portion of the king’s host landed and pillaged two Welsh churches.112 The young men of Anglesey arrived the next morning and attacked the Normans, many of whom were slain and the rest lucky to escape back to their ships. In 1165, Henry again invaded Wales with half a mind on the sea. Having retreated from battle in the Vale of Ceiriog, the king awaited reinforcements arriving from Ireland by ship, but ultimately chose to withdraw to England to gather a greater force.113 Both occasions are interesting attempts of strategic coordination

110

Rose, Medieval Naval Warfare, 12. Many ports were run by landed magnates who controlled access to interested parties, as evidenced by a royal mandate to William de Morainville to allow the Abbey of St. George (Boscherville) free access and passage; see Acta of Henry II and Richard I, Part Two, no. 18. 111 For the shipwreck, see Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, II: 5; and C. Roth, A History of the Jews in England (Oxford, 1942), 15–16. 112 The 1157 landing, as well as the Irish expedition, is discussed very brieﬂy in Prestwich, The Place of War, 37. 113 Brenhinedd y Saesson, 159 and 167.

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between a main army and other, supplemental forces; while unsuccessful, they do demonstrate some attempt at multifaceted campaigns. Henry’s Invasions Sea-borne transport also played a role in Henry’s invasions of lands across the water, although the bulk of his campaigns were strictly land-based aﬀairs in which the soldiers were recruited or levied locally. We ﬁnd him frequently summoning the armies of Normandy or Anjou, sometimes putting them to use and at other moments disbanding them before any ﬁghting could take place (such as the summons in support of Adela of Champagne in 1180). At other times, Henry needed to ship entire armies across the water as a pure invasion force. Not surprisingly, such forces were numerically smaller than times in which the king could both transport soldiers as well as raise local levies. Little study has been conducted on the actual size of Henry’s armies; despite the ample evidence in the Pipe Rolls, his frequent use of scutage and mercenary soldiers, as well as the vague comments in the chronicles, makes precise interpretation diﬃcult. Even so, we are reasonably well-informed for his major campaigns. For example, analysis of the rolls allowed Paul Latimer to arrive at speciﬁc ﬁgures for the 1165 Welsh campaign: £7,500 spent on the entire campaign, from which monies were allocated for over 3,000 sergeants alone.114 Speciﬁc numbers do exist for Henry’s Channel crossing in January 1153, the ﬁnal year of the anarchy. We are told that Henry brought 140 knights and 3000 infantry to Wareham, an army that was transported on thirty-six ships.115 The data provided in the chronicles, while probably not fully accurate, seems to be of a reasonable nature. Bernard Bachrach has reckoned that William the Conqueror employed specialized ships of a Byzantine design for transporting horses to England. While his argument has now met some resistance (the ships were probably of Viking or Northern European design), the ﬁgures for a ship’s capacity for carrying horses, even roughly adopted, still indicates that at between ten or twenty knights per ship Henry would have needed only seven to fourteen vessels to transport his mounted

114

Latimer, “Campaign against the Welsh,” 545 and 552. William of Newburgh provides the head-count, Robert of Torigini the shipcount; see Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 88; and Torigini, 171. 115

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army. His infantry, at around 3000 eﬀectives, would have ﬁlled the remaining ships in Torigini’s text and perhaps a few more. Here we are lucky to have some speciﬁc numbers from Gerald of Wales, who notes that in 1171 Maurice Fitzgerald landed two ships at Wexford, Ireland, loaded with ten men-at-arms, thirty mounted infantry, and one hundred archers and footmen. Given advances in boat size between 1066 and 1153, however modest, these chronicle ﬁgures seem representative of contemporary transportation capabilities.116 Henry’s largest army was probably that gathered for the Toulouse campaign in 1159. The levies began in March throughout his continental and English domains, and in addition to the gathered knights Henry assessed scutage at the rate of two marks per fee from both lay and ecclesiastical tenants. The latter was also asked to give a voluntary gift (donum) in addition to the value of their knights’ obligations. The English Jewry was taxed and an amount of over £9,000 was raised for the hiring of mercenaries and the buying of supplies and transportation.117 Several notable leaders accompanied the king on this campaign: Malcolm IV of Scotland sailed with forty-ﬁve ships and added his own vassals to Henry’s ranks; Raymond Trencavel, a nobleman with assets in Carcassonne and Béziers who held his own grudges against the counts of Toulouse; and Raymond of Barcelona, who by possessing Aragon and Provence was very concerned with Languedoc. Finally, Henry’s chancellor Thomas Becket rode with 700 hand-picked knights, unmatched in his grand style.118 Later in the year, after Henry’s abandonment of the siege of Toulouse, Becket led raids into the Vexin around Gisors, riding at the head of 1,900 cavalry and 4,000 infantrymen. Certainly Henry retained some high quantity of soldiers in the aftermath of the Toulouse levy, but these numbers seem too substantial for a novice commander like Becket. Even absent the fact that they are oﬀered by the clerk William FitzStephen

116 Bachrach, “William the Conqueror’s Horse Transports,” 513 and 517. For Gerald’s information, see Expugnatio, 202. 117 Gervase, II: 78; G. J. White, Restoration and Reform, 1153–1165: Recovery from Civil War in England (Cambridge, 2000), 151; Keefe, Feudal Assessments, 29–30; Amt, Accession of Henry II, 183. Amt is mistaken in arguing that none of the levies were called scutage; see for example “scutage militu” in PR 5, 24–7. 118 Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 125; William FitzStephen, Mats, III: 33. However, to my knowledge no one yet has attempted to calculate the exact size of the Toulouse army, and Martindale goes so far as to claim that such a task would be impossible; “Siege of Toulouse,” 125.

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in his Life of Becket, these ﬁgures would have been large for nearly any army operating in the mid-twelfth century.119 Henry’s 1165 army assembled for his Welsh campaign was his largest after Toulouse. Its costs exceeded £7,500, which paid for at least 3,000 sergeants and a large host of knights.120 The feudal levies were complemented by a host of mercenaries, including English, Normans, Angevins, Picts, and Scots. The numbers for Henry II’s invasion force for the Irish campaign on 1171 are a matter of debate. There are three major accounts but all seem to conﬂict with each other. Gerald of Wales oﬀers a troop count of only 500 men-at-arms and a large body of horse and archers.121 Interestingly, several modern historians have inﬂated these numbers far past Gerald’s estimates. This is largely a result of the interpretation of two references to the number of ships involved in the operation. Roger of Howden claims 400 ships transported the men to Croch, eight miles from Waterford, while the Irish Annals of Ulster notes only 240 ships that landed not at Croch, but at Port Lairgi.122 As a result, we have some erroneous numbers presented as historically accurate: E. A. D’Alton put Henry’s landing force at 4,000 soldiers and 10,000 total men, ﬁgures that F. X. Martin later repeats. Compounding the problem is Ann Hyland’s more recent ﬁgures of 500 knights, 4,000 infantry and missile troops. Hyland also relates the presence of siege engines, perhaps relying upon A. J. Otway-Ruthven’s older claim to this eﬀect. Regardless, there is simply no evidence for siege equipment in any contemporary source.123 There are no other ﬁgures given in the contemporary sources: Ralph Diceto and Gervase of Canterbury only mention the expedition taking place; William of Newburgh mentions a “numerous army”; the Chronicle of Melrose speaks of “a powerful company”; and the Annals of Clonmacnoise does not mention an army at all.124

119

William FitzStephen, Mats., III: 34–5; Verbruggen, Art of Warfare, 6–9. Latimer, “Campaign against the Welsh in 1165,” 545 and 552. 121 Expugnatio, 268–76. 122 Chronica, II: 29; Annals of Ulster, II: 171. 123 E. A. D’Alton, History of Ireland from the Earliest Times to the Present Day, 2 vols. (London, 1910), I: 245; Martin, “Diarmait Mac Murchada,” I: 87; A. Hyland, The Medieval Warhorse from Byzantium to the Crusades (Stroud, 1994), 103; Otway-Ruthven, History of Medieval Ireland, 48–9. 124 Ymagines Historiarum, I: 348; Gervase, I: 234–5, II: 79–80; Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 169; Anderson, Early Sources, 275; Annals of Clonmacnoise, 208. 120

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We can reach more accurate ﬁgures through historiographical analysis. The Annals of Ulster, composed far away from events in southern Ireland, suﬀer from their provenance: while its composition may have begun as early as the thirteenth century the earliest extant manuscript dates to 1498. Gerald of Wales’ ﬁgures seem too small to be correct. After launching massive campaigns into Toulouse and Wales in 1159 and 1165, would Henry have gambled with so small a force; would he have sent a force so much smaller than his invasion force of 1153? In addition, Gerald was not present in England for the Irish expedition because in 1171 he was busy studying in Paris, not returning to St. David’s until 1174.125 Therefore, his ﬁgure of 500 footmen plus mounted and missile troops may have been gained from local information upon his return home, which is clear from his precise report of Maurice Fitzgerald’s personal force in 1171. Nevertheless, it is unlikely that Gerald then traveled around speciﬁcally to discern for the total number of ships—hearing and writing down a local story is a diﬀerent than a strict logistical account. Later in life Gerald became a staunch foe of Henry, the king who repeatedly denied him the coveted position of Bishop of St. David’s, and the Welshman might have had good reason to denigrate Henry’s accomplishments. On the other hand, Gerald was no great fan of the Irish and may have diminished the number of English troops in order to make their victory all the greater.126 In the end, the best method is to go by the numbers of Roger of Howden, for on this issue he seems especially reliable. Howden was the only one of these sources to have been at court during 1171, and he actually accompanied Henry to Ireland during the invasion itself.127 Does this mean Howden’s ﬁgure of 400 ships is correct? It is diﬃcult to know for sure. The Pipe Rolls indicate a sizable build-up of troops and the collecting of scutage, evidence of a large operation.128 At several moments he appears to be extremely well informed about such matters to which he was eyewitness. If there were 400 ships, however, I suspect that many were small skiﬀs that could hold but a few men.129 125 126

O’Curry, Ancient Irish History, 84–5; Richter, Giraldus Cambrensis, 4. On this issue of exaggeration see Bachrach, “Medieval Military Demography,”

5–10. 127

Gillingham, “Travels of Roger of Howden,” 84. For example, PR 18, 15. 129 The same problem exists for 1066, where anywhere between 777 and 3,000 ships have been counted; see Douglas, William the Conqueror, 190 n. 1. 128

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Henry simply did not have a ﬂeet of boats on call and had to hire or seize them from local English and Welsh ﬁsherman and traders. The Crusades In terms of campaign ﬁnancing, there are a series of good case studies for Henry II’s involvement in the crusading eﬀorts that began in earnest in 1169 to check the growing power of Saladin. Despite the fact that Henry took the cross in 1188 he crusaded to neither Spain nor the Holy Land before his death. His connection to the crusades been studied in detail by Hans Mayer and Christopher Tyerman: their overriding conclusion is that his involvement in the larger crusading eﬀort was primarily ﬁnancial, and soldiers in Jerusalem beneﬁted greatly from the monies he provided through several oaths made in political and ecclesiastical treaties. The ﬁrst monies were promised by both Henry II and Louis VII to the Holy Land at Angers in June 1166, at the last of the three councils held by Henry in the wake of his successful campaign in Maine in the spring. At the behest of Alexander III, the kings decided to levy ﬁve-year taxes for crusading eﬀorts. These were the ﬁrst such crusading taxes of which we are aware. Louis collected a penny for each pound of property and revenues in France, collected annually for ﬁve years. Henry’s tax was similar but was charged at two pennies to the pound, and both collections were to be sent directly to Jerusalem.130 The monies were raised, deposited at Tours, and sat awaiting shipment Henry and Louis argued over whose ambassadors should accompany them on the trip. In the Treaty of Ivry of 1177, both Henry and Louis promised to go to Jerusalem on crusade.131 Henry promised to do as much in the 1172 Compromise of Avranches, essentially repeating a vow he had also made in 1170. Louis had led the Second Crusade with Emperor Conrad III (1138–1152) in 1147 and was evidently quite 130

On the 1166 taxes, see G. Constable, “The Financing of the Crusades in the Twelfth Century,” in Outremer: Studies in the History of the Crusading Kingdom of Jerusalem presented to Joshua Prawer, eds. B. Z. Kedar, H. E. Mayer, and R. C. Smail ( Jerusalem, 1982), 69; and in general F. Cazel, “Financing the Crusades,” in A History of the Crusades, Volume VI: the Impact of the Crusades on Europe, eds. K. Setton, H. W. Hazard, and N. P. Zacour (Madison, 1989), 116–49. 131 Torigini, 273–4; Chronica, II: 143–6; Ymagines Historiarum, I: 421–2; Gervase, I: 271–4. See K. von Eickels, “’Homagium and Amicitia’: Rituals of Peace and their Signiﬁcance in the Anglo-French Negotiations of the Twelfth Century,” Francia 24 (1997): 135, for a complete account of the treaty’s preservation.

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serious about the cause he was undertaking.132 Neither king actually took the cross in 1177, however. Louis would die before returning to the Holy Land and so would Henry, despite his becoming crucesignatus in 1188. Henry’s promise to crusade was probably a device to keep the papacy satisﬁed and a method of keeping the French from criticizing him overmuch, as crusaders were typically aﬀorded a great deal of leeway in the period before their departure. There was so much animosity between Henry and Louis that a joint crusade in 1177 or even the next year would have been unthinkable.133 The most notable crusading eﬀort from the West in 1177 was that of Philip of Flanders from April to October, who besieged Harran unsuccessfully with a host of Templars, Hospitallers, and some knights of Jerusalem. William de Mandeville journeyed alongside the count at the behest of Henry II, in order to check possible ulterior motives against King Baldwin IV, ‘the Leper King’ of Jerusalem (1174–1185) and a distant relation of the Angevins.134 William had experienced a fast rise at court and frequently participated in foreign embassies, and was thus a good choice for the job.135 Henry promised crusading funds yet again in 1185, this time in response to the plea of Patriarch Heraclius, who had journeyed west to plead for the assistance of both Henry and Philip II in the struggle against Saladin. Heraclius oﬀered them keys to the Holy Sepulchre as a means of persuasion. The two kings held a conference in March to discuss the request. While the patriarch was hoping for them to take the cross and lead soldiers to the east personally, neither Henry nor Philip were willing to go that far. Instead, they promised money and material support. Henry’s advisors, wisely enough, had counseled the king to remain at home to deal with the trouble brewing with his sons.136 A graduated three-year tax on income and movables was

132 M. Bull, “The Capetian Monarchy and the Early Crusade Movement: Hugh of Vermandois and Louis VII,” Nottingham Medieval Studies 50 (1996): 45–6. 133 Tyerman, England and the Crusades, 40–1; H. E. Mayer, “Henry II of England and the Holy Land,” EHR 97 (1982): 722. 134 Tyerman, England and the Crusades, 48. Henry and Baldwin were both descendents of Fulk V, count of Anjou and king of Jerusalem (1131–1143): Henry through Fulk’s ﬁrst wife Aremburg, who gave birth to Geoﬀrey le Bel; Baldwin through Fulk’s second wife Melisende. 135 T. K. Keefe, “King Henry II and the Earls: the Pipe Roll Evidence,” Albion 13 (1981): 209–10. 136 William of Newburgh blamed the devil for causing strife between Henry and his sons in order to prevent the king’s crusade; see Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 247.

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implemented, along with a tenth of the alms of those who had died during the decade after 24 June 1184.137 The tax was collected by the military orders and aroused, it seems, little complaint, with the exception of Gerald of Wales’ dramatic depiction of the patriarch’s response to their decision in the Expugnatio Hibernica. In this account, Heraclius prostrates at the feet of Henry, imploring him with tears in his eyes and predicting the total collapse of the Crusader states. While Heraclius appears as the pious man of need, Henry plays the stubborn fool who was given an opportunity to take the cross, but chose instead the serpent. That Heraclius left for home unhappy with the results of his diplomacy is an understatement, for Gerald quotes him thusly: Great king, you have hitherto reigned gloriously above all the princes of the earth, and your honours continually augmenting, have raised you to the highest pitch of royal dignity. But you were evidently reserved for this trial, in which you have been found wanting; and for this, the Lord whom you have forsaken, will desert you, and leave you destitute of heavenly grace. From henceforth your glory shall be turned into sorrow, and your honour to reproach, to the end of your days.138

Gerald compiled his account after Henry II’s death and was able to elaborate as he saw ﬁt; never a great friend of the king, his biases and exaggerations were perhaps shining through yet again. Henry’s largest ﬁnancial crusading contribution by far was the Saladin Tithe of 1188. At a conference at Senlis on 21 January, Joscius, archbishop of Tyre (d. 1201), delivered a stirring sermon about the Holy Land. The specter of Saladin had by now sunk in across Europe after his victory the Battle of Hattin on 4 July 1187 and his capture of Jerusalem on 30 September. Now the Western kings were willing to consider a more signiﬁcant response. A massive levy of ten-percent on both revenues and chattels was proposed on every person in France and the Angevin Empire to pay for the crusading eﬀort.139 According to Walter Map, it was Henry who ﬁrst proposed the idea of the Saladin Tithe:

137 Chronica, II: 304; Gervase, I: 325; Ymagines Historiarum, II: 32–4. On the tax, see F. A. Cazel, “The Tax of 1185 in Aid of the Holy Land,” Speculum 30 (1955): 385 and 388; and Tyerman, England and the Crusades, 41–2. 138 Expugnatio, 363; translation in Historical Works of Gerald of Wales, 297–8. 139 For the text of the Saladin Tithe, see Stubbs, Select Charters, 159–60.

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The king of the French, as being then but a boy, urged the king of England in friendly wise to speak ﬁrst, and he answered: ‘I have purposed when I have opportunity to visit the holy places and the sepulcher of Christ, but until that can be done I will help him according to my power; for it is plain that only an urgent and anxious emergency can have sent forth a messenger of such eminence. I will send thither by him and by my own people 60,000 marks this time.’ [. . .] the king of France, as if struck suddenly by an arrow, and all his princes, were dumb, and neither the king himself nor any of the rest after hearing such an exalted utterance dared promise anything.140

If Philip was initially astounded at the amount suggested, he eventually recovered and ordered the tax to be collected in France as well. In England, it appears that Jewry bore the brunt of the Saladin Tithe: Gervase of Canterbury reports that Jews contributed £60,000, compared to £70,000 collected from Christians, although recent study has indicated a much lower number, perhaps £12,000 over a period of two years. The English Jewry, in fact, had been paying such military taxes since 1159.141 The money was collected, packaged in locked barrels, and sent to ports to be shipped to the east.142 Besides these funds, Joscius also managed to extract a promise from Henry II that he would go on crusade; more signiﬁcantly, this time the king actually took the cross, as did Philip II and Count

140 De Nugis Curialium, 482–5. This was the ﬁrst speciﬁcally crusading levy known, and while crucesignati were exempt they could collect the funds from their own vassals; see Constable, “Financing of the Crusades,” 69–70. 141 R. Chazan, Medieval Stereotypes and Modern Antisemitism (Berkeley, 1997), 114. In other cases, Henry was generally a friend to the Jews, extending Henry I’s charter of protection that gave Jews limited jurisdictional power over their own aﬀairs, a distinct legal status, and recourse to Talmudic law; see H. S. Q. Henriques, The Jews and the English Law (Reprint, Clifton, NJ, 1974), 53; N. Golb, The Jews in Medieval Normandy (Cambridge, 1998), 350–3; and Roth, Jews in England, 11. The rise in Jewish wealth through usury necessitated a Jewish branch of the Exchequer, but unsurprisingly this provoked the crown into concocting new ways to acquire their wealth; see Mortimer, Angevin England, 49; and C. Gross, “The Exchequer of the Jews of England in the Middle Ages,” Papers Read at the Anglo-Jewish Historical Exhibition (London, 1887), 170–230. Not surprisingly, the rise in Jewish wealth provoked the Crown into concocting diﬀerent ways to acquire it. For historiographical issues, see J. D. Hosler, “Henry II, William of Newburgh, and the Development of English Anti-Judaism,” in Christian Attitudes towards the Jews in the Middle Ages: a Casebook, ed. M. Frassetto (Routledge, 2007), 167–182. 142 Gervase, I: 422. Hyamson, History of the Jews, 29, reads Gervase’s numbers literally, but they are questioned in Tyerman, England and the Crusades, 79. See also J. H. Round, “The Saladin Tithe,” EHR 31 (1916): 449–50.

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Philip of Flanders.143 The Norman jongleur Ambroise wrote, “both kings took the Cross and there they kissed one another [. . .] there you might have seen knights running up eagerly to take the Cross.”144 In order to recognize each other’s soldiers, the crusaders from France were to wear red crosses, those from England white, and those from Flanders green. Richard took the cross as well, angering his father, who had not been consulted beforehand. Twice before the king had promised to assume the mantle of crucesignatus but failed to do so. In 1172, Henry had made three speciﬁc promises regarding the Holy Land in the Compromise of Avranches: 1. He would take the cross on Christmas Day 1172, remain crucesignatus for three years, and in the summer of 1176 would journey to Jerusalem. 2. If Pope Alexander or his successors should ever exempt him from the pilgrimage, Henry should instead war against the Moors in Spain. 3. In the meantime, Henry would provide enough funds to the Knights Templar so as to maintain 200 knights for the defense of Jerusalem for one year.145 Only the third promise would be fulﬁlled before Henry’s death. The English crusade tax of 1185 helped Jerusalem to hold out against Saladin for nearly ten days, and at the Battle of Hattin some 200 knights and a few thousand foot soldiers were present due to Henry’s fundraising.146 History repeated itself in 1188: while monies from the Saladin Tithe were of great help to Jerusalem, Henry never actually went on crusade before dying in 1189.

143 Chronica, II: 335; Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, II: 30–2; Ymagines Historiarum, II: 51; Gervase, I: 406; Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 272–3. 144 Estoire de la Guerre Sainte, II: 31. 145 Chronica, II: 35–7. 146 S. Runciman, A History of the Crusades Volume II: the Kingdom of Jerusalem (Cambridge, 1957), 464 and 489–90. This did not prevent Gerald of Wales from attributing the fall of Jerusalem and the defeat at Hattin to Henry’s non-participation; see De Principis Instructione Liber, 235–6.

CHAPTER FIVE

CASTLES AND SIEGE WARFARE Twelfth-century warfare cannot be properly understood without a consideration of the multiple roles of castles and fortiﬁed towns. Those holding ﬁefs wished to put a stamp of their authority on the land; likewise, castles held by the king were measures of royal dominance in times of war. As R. Allen Brown states, “the castle . . . was essentially the private and residential fortress of a lord, the symbol and the substance of feudal lordship.”1 As such it was a political and economic instrument and the maintenance of certain castles was not always undertaken for speciﬁc military purposes. Yet the notable aspects of military technology during Henry’s reign, unlike other periods in which new arms and armor or battle formations made their appearance, were concerned with construction and destruction of physical creations. Most notable in this regard were castles and fortiﬁcations, so here we shall consider here Henry’s control of the land with wood, stone, and steel. Fortress Construction The two principal types of fortresses in the Anglo-Norman period were castles and fortiﬁed towns, with the latter in use during the Anglo-Saxon period. The use of walls diﬀered between England and the Continent. In England, the Roman castrum (fortiﬁed camp) was copied as early English peoples ringed their settlements with protective barriers. In the face of Viking attacks in the ninth century, walling towns with defensive barriers became royal policy. In 888, King Alfred ordered the construction of several walled towns or burhs in order to protect Wessex from the Danes.2 The Burghal Hidage of 919 recorded the names of these burhs, and defenses were constructed

1 R. A. Brown, “The Norman Conquest and the Genesis of English Castles,” in Castles, Conquest and Charters: Collected Papers (Woodbridge, 1989), 83. 2 Asser, Annals of the Reign of Alfred the Great, trans. J. A. Giles, in Old English Chronicles (London, 1912), 79.

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according to the size of certain towns as measured in hides, or the area necessary to support one household, with each hide representing between 40 and 120 acres of land.3 After 1066 the rate of construction declined, and Domesday Book ledgers indicate the maintenance of existing walls appears to have lessened in priority. Two reasons have been given for this phenomenon. The ﬁrst is the rise of the castle, which we regard as a planned fortress intended to house troops and resist attack, as a more viable means of defense. The ﬁrst to appear were of the motte-and-bailey type, a style brought over by the Normans during the reign of Edward the Confessor. Although numerous ‘ringworks’ abound in England and Ireland, they were essentially forts with a protective fence but no raised motte.4 Early Norman castles were constructed of earthworks and timber. There were stone castles nearby in Anjou, built by count Fulk Nerra (977–1040), but the style was more common further south.5 Before 1066, the castles that did exist in England (in Herefordshire and Essex) were the products of Normans favored by King Edward. The explosion of castles following the Conquest indicates the implementation of a continental feudal system, and Norman structures identiﬁed in the sources as castrum or castellum took a variety of shapes.6 William ﬁtz Osbern’s castle of Chepstow, a rectangular stone keep perched on a cliﬀ on the Welsh March, is a good example of departures from the motte-and-bailey style, which gradually gave way to stone keeps. In the late eleventh century Normans began replacing the wooden forts atop the mottes with stone keeps, called ‘shell keeps’ that essentially ringed the top of the motte with stone walls. In the later twelfth century mottes began to be replaced entirely or left out of building designs. In their place were built ‘tower keeps,’ independently standing, rectangular stone keeps too large to sit atop a

3 See D. Hill, “The Burghal Hidage: the Establishment of a Text,” Medieval Archaeology 13 (1969): 84–92; and D. Hill and A. R. Rumble, The Defence of Wessex: the Burghal Hidage and Anglo-Saxon Fortiﬁcations (Manchester, 1996). 4 E. J. Talbot, “The Defences of Earth and Timber Castles,” in Scottish Weapons and Fortiﬁcations, 1100–1800, ed. D. H. Caldwell (Edinburgh, 1981), 2–4. 5 F. Gebelin, The Chateaux of France, trans. H. E. Hart (New York, 1964), 24. B. S. Bachrach argues that Fulk Nerra’s aggressive building strategy provided Henry II and his predecessors in Anjou with a base with which to “secure Maine, dominate Brittany, conquer Normandy, acquire Aquitaine, and humble Blois—and conquer England in the bargain”; see “The Angevin Strategy of Castle Building in the Reign of Fulk Nerra, 987–1040,” AHR 88 (1983): 560. 6 R. A. Brown, English Medieval Castles (London, 1954), 23.

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motte. This was the style preferred by Henry II, who would often integrate the tower keep with the walls of the bailey. One characteristic feature of Henry’s castles is the addition of a gate in the wall located directly adjacent to the tower itself, which may have been a cheaper method of providing defense.7 The bailey itself gained battlements, a heavily fortiﬁed gate, and, in some instances, additional towers on the walls. This is the ‘keep-and-bailey’ castle, and most castle designs in the Anglo-Norman regnum followed its defensive principles. Henry also experimented with polygonal design at Orford Castle in an eﬀort to provide directed cover ﬁre at all sides of the walls.8 In comparison, fortresses in France tended to adopt cylindrical tower designs, and in Normandy both French and English designs were incorporated. Perched on the Vexin, the 1120 keep at Verneuil was a cylindrical design while Domfront and Argentan, both in the Norman interior and built in 1123, were rectangular. In general, castles on the Continent were larger in the north (and comparable to English examples) and smaller in the south.9 A second reason for the decline in walled towns was an increase in baronial power and wealth. Before 1135, castles were usually licensed by the crown, so barons needed permission to build them, but during the anarchy of Stephen’s reign, such legal restrictions could hardly be enforced. Castles served to either bolster a noble’s prestige and power or protect him and his family from a resentful peasantry.10 In the early twelfth century, the chronicler Orderic Vitalis drew a connection between the increasing might and arrogance of strong families and the rise of stone castles and fortiﬁed houses. Their purpose was primarily residential and could be centers of administration and ﬁnance, but whatever their everyday use castles were born from a need to protect one’s assets and thus had distinctive military roles to play.11 Accordingly, during the anarchy of Stephen’s 7 P. White, “Castle Gateways during the Reign of Henry II,” Antiquaries Journal 76 (1996): 241 and var. 8 E. Armitage, The Early Norman Castles of the British Isles (London, 1912), 79; Brown, English Medieval Castles, 36–43; P. E. Cleator, Castles and Kings (London, 1963), 52; P. Warner, Sieges of the Middle Ages (London, 1968), 116. 9 P. Rocolle, Le temps des chateaux forts, x e–xv e siècle (Paris, 1994), 85; Thompson, Rise of the Castle, 38–9 and 43. 10 Armitage, Early Norman Castles, 82–85; R. Higham, “Timber Castles: a Reassessment,” in Anglo-Norman Castles, ed. R. Liddiard (Woodbridge, 2003), 109. 11 M. Chibnall, “Orderic Vitalis on Castles,” in Studies in Medieval History presented to R. Allen Brown, 45–7.

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reign English castles were built for defensive purposes; no longer primarily symbols of comital power, castles became practical safeguards in an era of shifting alliances and frequent warfare. The destruction of many such structures was mandated in the Treaty of Winchester in 1153. Still, the building trend continued, and throughout the reign of Henry II the evidence suggests a preference for castles over walled towns. Following his coronation, Henry was primarily concerned with pushing his territories outward, not defending them against internal rebels or invaders. Correspondingly, when internal baronial disputes later arose in the reigns of John and Henry III, outlays for town walls picked up again. Castles remained the center of regional defense, but strong towns were seen as necessary guards against marauding armies. Thus we see stone walls with gates and towers in the thirteenth century, while in the twelfth the majority of town walls were amalgamations of earthworks and timber, with a smattering of stone in the more important areas.12 A good example of the progression from fortiﬁed town to castle is Wallingford in Berkshire. In the Anglo-Saxon period, the town was fortiﬁed with protective ramparts up to 3300 yards long; today, the surviving remnants stretch for about 2100 yards. These run around the north, west, and south ends of the town and in some places are twenty-ﬁve feet high. Several postholes have been found at various points where vertical timbers were planted in order to reinforce the earthen walls, and walls made of malm stone eventually replaced the timbers.13 The ﬁrst Norman improvements to Wallingford were completed by 1071 under Robert d’Oilli, the sheriﬀ of Berkshire and Oxfordshire. Excavations indicate the Norman structure was a motte-and-bailey type surrounded by a moat, and a wooden palisade protected the bailey’s buildings. The motte, still visible today, is a conical mound located in the southeast corner of the bailey. In the mid-twelfth century Wallingford Castle was structurally improved again with a second ward of defensive walls consisting of

12 H. L. Turner, Town Defences in England and Wales: an Architectural and Documentary Study AD 900–1500 (London, 1971), 21–3, 74; D. M. Palliser, “Town Defences in Medieval England and Wales,” in The Medieval Military Revolution, 106. 13 J. Dewey and S. Dewey, Book of Wallingford (Chesham, 1977), 20; N. P. Brooks, “Excavations at Wallingford Castle, 1965: an Interim Report,” Berkshire Archaeological Journal 62 (1965–6): 17; D. M. Wilson and D. G. Hurst, “Medieval Britain in 1966,” Medieval Archaeology 11 (1967): 263.

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a two-meter high gravel bank reinforced with timbers on its inside. A timber palisade topped the eight-foot high banks and three moats ran to the north of the castle walls. The keep itself was wooden in the eleventh century but improved to a shell keep by the late twelfth, perhaps in the reign of Henry II.14 The technological improvements were thus implemented in various stages in step with generally agreedupon trends in castle development. On the Continent, where private war between nobles and knights was frequent from the tenth century onward, castles were useful for their military advantages, and both kings and nobles built them for personal use. Philip Augustus held more than 100 castles himself, and his magnates several hundred more, which is a greater number than the 274 combined royal and baronial fortresses in England in 1154.15 The numbers do remain close enough for one writer to remark that Henry and Philip were the greatest castle-builders of their respective countries.16 However, there are deﬁnite physical and political diﬀerences in the construction of English and French castles. While the anarchy of Stephen’s reign had accelerated the construction of baronial castles, no such climactic event occurred in mid-twelfth century France. Instead, the counties and duchies had experienced for several decades the destructive warfare between local lords that prompted the Peace and Truce of God movements in the eleventh century. As a result, the building of fortresses on the Continent, generally speaking, was diﬀused gradually over a long timeframe.17 The local element also had an impact on the building of town walls. Walls were erected as the need arose and were often the initiatives of the burgesses in response to violence. Therefore,

14 Chronicon Monasterii de Abingdon, ed. J. Stevenson, 2 vols. (RS 2, 1858), I: 486; J. E. Field, “The History of Wallingford,” Journal of the British Archaeological Association 12 (1906): 52; K. S. B. Keats-Rohan, “The Devolution of the Honour of Wallingford, 1066–1148,” Oxoniensia 54 (1989): 312; Armitage, Early Norman Castles, 230; L. Webster and J. Cherry, “Medieval Britain in 1972,” Medieval Archaeology 17 (1973): 159–60; The Victoria History of Berkshire, ed. P. H. Ditchﬁeld and W. Page, 4 vols. (London, 1906), I: 267. 15 K. DeVries, Medieval Military Technology (Peterborough, ON, 1992), 217–18. For a short synopsis of châteaux in Capetian France, see Les Capétiens: histoire et dictionaire, 987–1328, eds. F. Menant, H. Martin, B. Merdrignac, and M. Chauvin (Paris, 1999), 774–82. 16 M. W. Thompson, The Rise of the Castle (Cambridge, 1991), 43. 17 R. Eales, “Royal Power and Castles in Norman England,” in The Ideals and Practice of Medieval Knighthood III, 69.

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the walls were municipally owned; in contrast, the walls of English towns were technically owned by the king.18 In addition, in France and the provinces magnates had a freer hand in the governance of their castles. The country had well-developed legal customs in this regard, while in the Isles what constituted oﬃcial license was not written down.19 French kings saw a certain value in allowing their vassals to create structures that would enable a better regional defense. Much of the impetus for this was due to geography: on the borders of France sat the Moors in Spain, rebellious counts in the southeast, and the powerful Holy Roman Empire. This contrasts greatly with England, where the most useful baronial castles were in Northumbria, the Welsh March, or the Channel shore, the three places an invasion would most likely appear. Thus we see the kings of France granting castle rights on a more frequent basis. The key criteria involved rendability: the obligation of vassals to temporarily surrender those fortresses to their lords when circumstances required it. Castles could change ownership in other ways; for example, in Champagne barons were permitted to mortgage their castles for ready cash if necessary.20 Freer license for construction also did not end with the barons. Louis VII gave bishops in the south permission to construct another type of fortress, the fortiﬁed church. While the most obvious reason for this was to defend against possible Saracen incursions from Spain, such buildings were also proclamations of power among the often-divided ecclesiastical magnates in the south.21 Castle Strategies Castles served both defensive and oﬀensive purposes in time of war. Defensively, they held garrisons to protect royal or comital lands and/or defend territorial borders; oﬀensively, castles were built to 18

R. H. Hilton, English and French Towns in Feudal Society: a Comparative Study (Cambridge, 1992), 35; D. Nicholas, The Growth of the Medieval City: from Late Antiquity to the Early Fourteenth Century (London, 1997), 93. 19 Eales, “Royal Power and Castles,” 76. 20 Eales, “Royal Power and Castles,” 69–70; Feudal Society in Medieval Europe: Documents from the County of Champagne, trans. T. Evergates (Philadelphia, 1993), 83. 21 S. Bonde, Fortress-Churches of Languedoc: Architecture, Religion, and Conﬂict in the High Middle Ages (Cambridge, 1994), 53 and 58.

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dominate conquered regions or serve as forward bases of operation. In either case, the common denominator was the need to house troops—the castle garrison. In peacetime, garrisons would include such useful staﬀers as porters, chaplains, and quartermasters (perhaps no more than three or four men), while in wartime the population would be increased with an infusion of knights and soldiers appointed or hired by the lord of the castle or raised through castle-guard. A proper war footing included not only the bolstering of garrisons but also the repair and erection of ramparts, the digging of ditches, collecting of supplies, and other measures meant to extend the life of a defending force.22 Exact numbers remain elusive but have been plotted recently at an average of 178 men between 1047 and 1272.23 Michael Prestwich has noted that the garrison at Richmond in the twelfth century ﬂuctuated by season, with 26 knights owing service in the winter and 42 in the summer. The numbers for Henry II’s reign, and indeed those of all three Angevin kings, are lower still because of the great numbers of castles being seized, built, and rebuilt. Pay appears to have been a bigger factor for garrison troops than service, and one’s obligation could be met with scutage. In some regions large estates called castelleriae were created, in which tenants owed soldiers for the garrisoning of the major castle in the region.24 The status of castellans diﬀered by geography and by period. In the tenth and early eleventh centuries they were largely regarded as custodians, while in the twelfth castles were often handed out as beneﬁces.25 A castle without a garrison was relatively worthless because it lacked ability to either control a region or defend itself. Fortunately, it did not take many soldiers to accomplish either task. Garrisons were not large enough to ﬁght outside ﬁeld actions of any decent size, and wise generals could simply invest each castle with a portion of their army to keep the garrison inside. As a result, there seem to

22

Chibnall, “Orderic Vitalis on Castles,” 48. J. S. Moore, “Anglo-Norman Garrisons,” ANS 22 (1999): 206, 218–19. See also S. Painter, “Castle-Guard,” AHR 40 (1935): 450–59, for garrison ﬁgures. This average is probably too high for the eleventh and twelfth centuries, inﬂated no doubt by the higher garrison numbers in the thirteenth. 24 M. Prestwich, “The Garrisoning of English Medieval Castles,” in The Normans and their Adversaries at War, 191; Beeler, Warfare in Feudal Europe, 101. 25 S. Painter, “Castellans on the Plain of Poitou in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries,” Speculum 31 (1956): 256–7. 23

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have been few actually sallies conducted by English garrisons.26 Instead, castles depended not only upon their own defenses and supplies but also those fortiﬁcations in neighboring areas. If the area was not dominated by friendly forces, a castle’s garrison would hardly be able to send its troops into action and was in a sense neutralized as a force in war.27 We might note, however, that the mere presence of such a diminished base could still be signiﬁcant. In 1174, the castellan Robert de Vaux found Carlisle Castle surrounded by Scots and rendered ineﬀective as a base for oﬀensive operations, but the Scots could neither take the castle nor simply bypass it and leave a garrison in the rear. William the Lion was therefore forced to leave a portion of his army in Carlisle, and in the meantime an English army marched north in relief. While Robert de Vaux had not engaged his enemy, he had nevertheless kept them occupied.28 Garrisons have not attracted the same level of scholarly attention as have armies and the architectural features of castles, perhaps suﬀering from “the enormous condescension of posterity.” The problem is that garrisons were constantly changing due to the movement of diﬀerent individuals in and out between periods of war. As a result, there is a danger in homogenizing ‘the garrison’ as a social construct requiring separate study. Garrisons were vitally important, of course, and are worthy of study but each one was constructed of individuals with varying attitudes towards war. Of the potential castellans, knights, archers, and workers in a garrison, some owed service, some were appointed, and others were paid outright. They were assembled in times of need and later split apart to be reassigned elsewhere or dismissed outright. Nevertheless, while John Moore’s assessment of the dearth of modern scholarship is accurate, his appraisal of the medieval attitude towards garrisons is not. He writes that the garrison soldier, “even if of knightly rank, was not a glamorous ﬁgure who attracted much attention from either contemporaries or modern historians.”29 The evidence from Henry II’s reign suggests otherwise. Jordan Fantosme sings the praises of Roger de

26 M. Strickland, “Securing the North: Invasion and the Strategy of Defence in Twelfth-Century Anglo-Scottish Warfare,” in ANW, 215–16. 27 As argued by Morillo, Warfare under the Anglo-Norman Kings, 96. 28 Notably, Robert de Vaux did sally out of his castle during William the Lion’s ﬁrst siege the year before. 29 Moore, “Anglo-Norman Garrisons,” 227.

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Stuteville, the castellan of Wark Castle, as he fought oﬀ the siege of William the Lion in 1174. Roger had “twenty knights among his followers, and, without exaggeration, the best sergeants that ever baron had in his service”; he was “no coward, nor wrong-headed about the art of war, nor less chivalrous in his conduct; no wiser, more balanced, more noble warrior was ever heard of.”30 Admittedly, although speciﬁc details like this do exist, more substantive lists of garrison soldiers usually appear in the later Middle Ages.31 Castles were interspersed in the countryside to the beneﬁt of the lord controlling the region and are often found near rivers, on high ground, or at important intersections of trade routes. During the Angevin period few castles could be expected to stand alone against a besieging army for long periods of time, as many were still of the motte-and-bailey variety. Those more advanced fortresses built in the keep-and-bailey style, such as Henry II’s castle at Dover and Richard I’s Châteaux-Gaillard, were exceptions to this rule. Fortresses were often built piecemeal and haphazardly as time, resources, and necessity allowed, and the older idea that English castles were constructed in a thoughtful network of defensive units working together has now been dismissed.32 It does not follow, however, that they were ill-positioned geographically. They generally sat upon important crossings over rives and hills; the royal castles were generally built with more of an eye towards strategy and regional defense than the baronial castles, which sometimes existed only as a fortiﬁed residence. Fortresses were integral to Angevin warfare because the kings were keenly interested in their military applications. Comparatively, the number of castles built between 1135 and 1154 was not so numerous, and because most of them served temporary purposes, they were not made of stone.33

30 Strickland, War and Chivalry, 204–29; Fantosme, 122–133. Roger is found making a gift to the see of Lincoln before the rebellions began; see Acta of Henry II and Richard I, no. 171. 31 See, for example, J. Rickard, The Castle Community: the Personnel of English and Welsh Castles, 1272–1422 (Woodbridge, 2002). 32 The old view is Beeler, “Castles and Strategy,” 581–601; for the counter, see Strickland, “Securing the North,” ANW 210–11; and R. Eales, “Royal Power and Castles in Norman England,” in Anglo-Norman Castles, 66–7. 33 J. Beeler, “Castles and Strategy in Norman and Early Angevin England,” Speculum 31 (1956): 584; Stenton, English Feudalism, 202–3.

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Under the Angevins, expenditures for castle construction and upkeep were far greater than any other dispersement from the royal treasury. The price has been estimated at a combined £46,000 for the reigns of Henry II, Richard I, and John, or an average of £780 per annum. Henry alone spent at least £21,500 (for 33 years of evidence in the Pipe Rolls) and committed over £20 each for the building and continual upkeep of at least ﬁfty castles in the Isles.34 The Pipe Rolls provide the evidence for expenditures but do not tell the whole story, for some castles are located in the narrative documents but not the ﬁnancial, and others are not royal castles but baronial. Distinctions aside, during Henry’s reign at least 68 new castles were built in England and 28 in Wales, and to this we may add those older fortresses which he thought wise to rebuild.35 These numbers far outpace those of both Henry’s predecessors and successors and point to the central role of castles in his overall military strategy. On the Continent, Henry embarked on a similar project of structural defense by building and garrisoning castles, sometimes seeking the assistance of local builders to do so. Henry’s continental building program was not nearly as extensive as that in the Isles. In Normandy and the Vexin, it was his grandfather Henry I who had the reputation of a great builder, lacing the northern and eastern Norman frontier with eleven castles built or strengthened into rectangular keeps. The keep at Gisors, a critical post on the Norman frontier, was ﬁrst built in 1097 by Robert of Bellême, and Henry I later added towers on the bailey wall in 1123. It was left to Henry II to roof the keep and add two towers to the north and southeast sides.36 As we have already mentioned, the bulk of the castle network in Anjou was set in place by Fulk Nerra and then maintained by later counts. There were 91 castles in existence in Poitou between the years 1152 and 1271, but a full eighty of these had already been built by 1152 and cannot be attributed to

34

From early on, building castles was an expensive business; for a case study see B. S. Bachrach, “The Cost of Castle Building: the Case of the Tower at Langeais, 992–994,” in The Medieval Castle: Romance and Reality, eds. K. Reyerson and F. Powe (Dubuque, IA, 1984), 47–62. 35 R. A. Brown, “Royal Castle-Building in England, 1154–1216” and “A List of Castles, 1154–1216,” in Castles, Conquest and Charters, 21 and 42 and 102–21, respectively. Castle statistics are drawn from Brown’s charts and Beeler, Warfare in England, 397–446. 36 Gebelin, Chateaux of France, 30 and 43–7.

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Henry. Instead, the king spent much of his time destroying castles, especially during the campaigns of 1167 and 1182. Only after those campaigns ended did castle-building return in earnest in the duchy.37 So although he personally ruled over these French counties and duchies for much of his reign, Henry spent the bulk of his time capturing and fortifying castles rather than building new ones, with a few notable exceptions such as the mighty fortress of Chinon in Touraine, where three castles would be built there on a favorable plateau overlooking the River Vienne, each with its own moat. The oldest was Henry’s building, Château de St. Georges, and the whole site is based upon an old Roman post.38 His passion for fortiﬁcations also manifested itself outside the architectural; in 1169, Henry ordered defensive ditches dug between France and his domains in an eﬀort to keep out raiders. In Anjou he ordered the construction of high embankments on the Loire to protect vulnerable ﬁelds. In Normandy, the barriers were instead long and deep ditches, the Fossés-le-Roi. These were dug in the Vexin and survive today in varying states of repair, running from Nonancourt to Mêle-sur-Sarthe.39 In terms of castle construction, Henry’s monumental achievement was Dover Castle, a building comparable to the best eﬀorts of William the Conqueror, Richard I, and Edward I. While R. Allen Brown notes that no Anglo-Norman fortress can match the grandeur and expenditure of Edward’s eight castles in Wales, he also reminds us that Henry spent an extraordinary £6,400 on the castle of Dover during his reign. This amount reaches well into the middle levels of Edward’s expenditures, and in terms of cost and defensive attributes Dover is quite similar to Château-Gaillard.40 The complex layout of Dover has attracted praise equal to that given Caernarfon: Plantagenet 37 M. Jones, “The Defence of Medieval Brittany: a Survey of the Establishment of Fortiﬁed Towns, Castles and Frontiers from the Gallo-Roman Period to the End of the Middle Ages,” in The Creation of Brittany, a Late Medieval State (London, 1988), 31. 38 R. Hajdu, “Castles, Castellans and the Structure of Politics in Poitou, 1152–1271, JMH 4 (1978): 30. On Chinon, see Gebelin, Chateaux of France, 51; Dictionnaire des Châteaux et des Fortiﬁcations du Moyen Age en France, ed. C. L. Salch (Strasbourg, 1979), 330–32; F. Miltoun, Castles and Chateaux of Old Touraine and the Loire Country (London, 1907), 257; and W. Anderson, Castles of Europe from Charlemagne to the Renaissance (London, 1980), 118. 39 The ditches are mentioned in Torigini, 242. See also M. P. Baudry, “La politique de fortiﬁcation des Plantagenêts en Poitou, 1154–1242,” ANS 24 (2001): 65; Contamine, War in the Middle Ages, 221–2; and Contamine, War in the Middle Ages, 221–2. 40 Brown, Castle-Building in England, 22 and 33–4.

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Somerset Fry has called Dover “the greatest of all the thousands of castles in the British Isles,” and in the thirteenth century Matthew Paris dubbed it “the key of England.”41 Siege Warfare Castles became the dominant measure of territorial power in the twelfth century, and holding castles meant the control of the lands around them. It was thus vital to attack and hold the fortiﬁcations of one’s enemies, and the number of sieges during the period was much greater than the number of pitched battles fought. As more castles were gained the geographical extent of friendly lands of one’s foe were simultaneously reduced, and Gillingham argues that the aim of war was to either win or hold territory by taking or keeping strongholds.42 Thus were castles central to oﬀensive campaigns, and the strategy of occupying territory is one advocated by Vegetius; whether or not medieval generals knew of his military writings, they seem to have put such geographical strategies to work.43 There are of course entire books written about siege warfare, although not as many as one might at ﬁrst think.44 Revisiting the accepted strategies of the twelfth century is useful for understanding how Henry II approached castles in aggregate. His ambitious building schedule indicates a conﬁdence in fortresses as the basis for not only his defensive strategy but also governance of the Angevin Empire at large. Given his refurbishment of older castles, experiments with diﬀerent tower arrangements, and construction of new castles of his own, we may reasonably conclude that Henry was up to date on the latest trends in military architecture. He was by his coronation in 1154 an old hand at besieging castles, and while not every experience was overly positive he probably learned from his mistakes. Over the

41

Fry, Castles in Britain and Ireland, 141; Brown, English Castles, 122. Gillingham, “Science of War,” 198. 43 Vegetius’ De re militari was written sometime between the reigns of Valentinian II (375–93) and Theodosius II (408–50); see W. Goﬀart, “The Date and Purpose of Vegetius’ ‘De Re Militari,’” Traditio 33 (1977): 65–100. 44 This is rightly attributed to “presentism” in Bachrach, “Reconnaissance,” 119–21. The standard works for our period are J. Bradbury, The Medieval Siege (Woodbridge, 1992); and R. Rogers, Latin Siege Warfare in the Twelfth Century (Oxford, 1992). 42

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course of his reign as king Henry established his legacy as a master of siege warfare. Renowned for the speed in which he attacked, few castles could resist his armies for very long.45 His competence at taking castles and fortiﬁed towns ranks him in the upper echelon of English commanders known for their excellent siege tactics: Richard I, Edward I, and Henry V (1413–22). Henry II learned his early lessons on the subject from his father Geoﬀrey le Bel, who had himself used battering rams, counter-castles, siege towers, and catapults in sieges, and he perhaps dabbled in incendiary devices as well. Henry employed all of these measures at some point in his reign except for ﬁre-bombs, and he also employed specialist engineers to build his devices and dig mining tunnels.46 By the mid-twelfth century, most of these siege tactics were well-known in the Angevin Empire, with the two biggest exceptions being Greek Fire and the counterweight trebuchet. Greek Fire was not used by English kings until Richard I, and he only discovered its secrets while away on the Third Crusade.47 While catapults, machines that hurled missiles through built-up torsion, were common sights in the twelfth century trebuchets were not, despite the fact that they had been used in the early Middle Ages.48 There are, however, two good references of their use in the later twelfth century. In 1174 William the Lion used a stone-thrower against the Castle Wark that Bradbury believes was an early trebuchet. Jordan Fantosme wrote that during initial bombardment of the castle, the ﬁrst stone from the new machine hurled “tumbled out of the sling” and nearly crushed one of the Scots, evoking a hearty laugh from the king. Gilbert of Mons also mentions trebuchets and mangonels employed by Baldwin of Hainault at the siege of Merlemont in 1189.49 In all likelihood these were traction trebuchets in which the energy for throwing the stone came from a team of men pulling dozens of ropes. This type of technology was employed at the Siege of Lisbon in 1147. The later development of the counterweight trebuchet, large stone-slingers that

45

France, Western Warfare, 102. Rogers, Latin Siege Warfare, 238–41. 47 See in general J. R. Partington, A History of Greek Fire and Gunpowder (Cambridge, 1960). 48 On hurling weapons see R. Payne-Gallwey, The Crossbow: Medieval and Modern, Military and Sporting (London, 1958), 249–319. 49 Fantosme, 128; Chronicle of Hainault, 133. Bradbury discusses the Scottish version in Medieval Siege, 267. 46

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employed counterweights instead of torque for propulsion, occurred in the east in the mid-twelfth century then spread to northwest Europe later.50 Given that neither Henry II nor William the Lion had gone on Crusade personally, the earlier traction model is the logical weapon deployed at Wark in 1174. Despite the available technologies, by far the most eﬀective tactic was the blockade, for the deprivation of the garrison’s material needs, especially if it was caught low on provisions, was a compelling argument for surrender. A ﬁnal tactic, and one that appears frequently in England during the anarchy of Stephen’s reign, is the counter-castle, a semi-permanent structure built close by another castle. These were used to house troops that could prevent or confront sallies from the besieged garrison, and a good example is Crowmarsh, which Stephen built on the outskirts of Wallingford in 1146. Henry became adept at attacking counter-castles, but there is no indication that he ever built them himself. Technology assisted castle and town garrisons as well, the primary diﬀerence being the availability of materials need for construction. A castle or town’s greatest assets were its preexisting defensive features like as stone walls, towers, and strong gates compensated, all of which might persuade the besiegers to leave. Good advance planning could thwart a number of the attacks at a besieger’s disposal: castles built upon craggy terrain rendered battering rams, belfries, and most mines ineﬀective, while building on a river or coastline could prevent encirclement and thus an eﬀective blockade. After a siege began the amount of supplies weighed heavily upon a garrison’s ability to ﬁght oﬀ attacks. While it might tunnel counter-mines to prevent sapping or employ catapults, arrows, or boiling pitch from the walls, damage to equipment and the depletion of ammunition was a real possibility. If, however, the walls held for long enough a siege might end through diplomacy or the succor of the castellan’s allies. It was customary in the Angevin period to allow a besieged garrison to seek succor from its lord; if no help arrived within a predetermined timeframe the castellan could surrender the castle without betraying his lord. Succor could involve an attack upon the besieging army from outside the walls or the infusion of additional troops and materials inside the town or castle itself: in 1174, Henry II relieved Rouen in

50

DeVries, Medieval Military Technology, 133–40.

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1174 by simply moving his army into the city, through a gate on the unprotected side. Far more often Henry was the aggressor, moving against castles and towns standing against him and seizing them almost at will. His march to conﬁscate or destroy adulterine castles threats to his royal authority in his early reign illustrates his ability in this regard.51 A stipulation in the Treaty of Winchester called for the destruction of all adulterine castles built during the anarchy of Stephen’s reign, and Henry’s seizure of castles began while Stephen was still king. He ﬁrst obtained Wallingford Castle from Brian ﬁtz Count in 1153, who was a staunch Angevin ally during the anarchy, and then the death of Ranulf, earl of Chester, allowed him to take Nottingham, Staﬀord, Newcastle-under-Lyme, Tickhill, Bolsover, and the Peak. To Henry this was an assertion of royal power over baronial, a critical step in restoring a semblance of order to a country racked by shifting baronial alliances and betrayals. This has been judged as a vindictive policy by some who see the deprivation of private comital interests as an encroachment on right and precedent, especially considering that over his reign Henry conﬁscated licensed castles when it suited him best. Charles Coulson and R. Allen Brown sing in harmony here, each contending that Henry was actually encroaching upon “rightful landed property,” and that such demolitions and seizures had little to do with the national good.52 While this criticism seems fair, we may yet allow Henry some leeway for his appropriations and seizures of 1154–1155. After having witnessed the shifting alliances of the anarchy ﬁrsthand, as well as the inability of Stephen to control his vassals, from a military perspective the king’s aggressive policy makes perfect sense. It was a bold gamble that ultimately served to augment royal power at the expense of the baronage and was based on the ideal that vassals

51 In the second reissue of Magna Carta in 1217 the term castra adulterine (adulterine castles) signiﬁed castles built or rebuilt during civil struggles, in this case between John and the barons. Thus adulterine castles were distinct from ‘unlicensed’ castles, which were simply constructed without royal permission; see Eales, “Royal Power and Castles,” 63–4; and C. Coulson, “The Castles of the Anarchy,” in The Anarchy of Stephen’s Reign, 75–6. 52 C. L. H. Coulson, Castles in Medieval Society: Fortresses in England, France, and Ireland in the Central Middle Ages (Oxford, 2003), 141–2; Brown, “List of Castles,” 97–90.

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should be obedient to their lord.53 Henry succeeded where his predecessor had failed by exerting royal force in places of just such necessity. True, similar actions were later impossible under King John because of his weak standing with the barons, but this is what separates father from son. Coulson admits that Angevin castle-policy radiated statecraft by being centralized and decisive: rather than negotiate with his lessers, Henry implemented a policy of fortress control that was consistent throughout his reign.54 This policy allowed him to seize and demolish castles as it suited him, reducing the strength of the opposition and increasing his own territorial grip. Henry clearly understood the value of fortiﬁcations in war and the importance of local control through them. Those who opposed Henry II’s seizure and demolition of private fortresses were all defeated. In his seizure campaign of 1155, four notable ﬁgures voluntarily submitted. William le Gros, count of Aumale (d. 1179), reluctantly gave up after Henry marched against him at York. Roger of Hereford was persuaded by kinsmen to hand over Gloucester and Hereford. William Peverel ﬂed the country after assassinating Ranulf of Chester and forfeited his lands in Nottingham. Henry of Blois, bishop of Winchester and brother of the former King Stephen, retired to Cluny, and his castles in Hampshire were demolished. The intractable noble Hugh Mortimer resisted with force, so Henry besieged and took his three castles at Cleobury, Wigmore, and Bridgnorth. 1157 was another banner year for Henry: he conﬁscated several castles belonging to William including Norwich; King Malcolm IV surrendered the northern counties to England and Henry received Newcastle-upon-Tyne, Carlisle, Wark, and other lesser fortresses; ﬁnally, from Hugh Bigod he obtained four castles in East Anglia and demolished two others belonging to the Mandevilles. Other similar campaigns followed on the Continent, where Henry seized castles as a legal pretext as well as in response to rebellions in his greater domains. Between 1158 and 1169 Henry seized castles in Brittany, Maine, Perche, and the Passais. While some were older models with wooden walls others were quite advanced; the castle of

53 Warren, Henry II, 59–60. Some of the deprived baronial families would later receive restitution in article 52 of Magna Carta; see J. C. Holt, Magna Carta, 2nd ed. (Cambridge, 1992), 350 and 465. 54 C. Coulson, “Fortress-Policy in Capetian Tradition and Angevin Practice: Aspects of the Conquest of Normandy by Philip II,” ANS 6 (1983): 23.

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Fougères, for example, was a large, hexagonal stone keep measuring some 20 meters in diameter.55 After the failed rebellions of 1173 and 1174 Henry demolished twenty castles and conﬁscated thirteen more between 1174 and 1176.56 Castles could also be dealt around in peace treaties such as that settled between Henry and his sons in 1174; from Henry the Younger he received two castles in Normandy and an £15,000 annual payment, and from Richard two castles in Poitou plus half the county revenues each year.57 Knowing Henry II’s expertise with the mechanics of siege warfare, it is rather ironic that his ﬁnal military defeat would occur in the fortiﬁed town of LeMans, the place of his birth. Anticipating the need for forces with which to address the ongoing rampage of Philip Augustus in the summer of 1189, the king sent Ranulf de Glanville to England to collect reinforcements as well as to rehire mercenaries from Wales. In the meantime Philip captured Le Ferté Bernard, Montfort, Maletable, Beaumont, and Ballon. On 12 June the French feinted towards Tours and Henry fell for it: convinced that Philip’s army as bypassing him, he ordered the garrison of Le Mans to stand down, and the French wheeled around suddenly and quickly rode towards the city. Henry had 700 knights with him at LeMans, but perhaps doubting his chances in battle or even a drawn-out siege, he ordered the seneschal of Anjou, Stephen of Tours, to set ﬁre to the outer ring of buildings outside the town wall in order to dissuade the French approach. Unfortunately, the ﬁre raged out of control, spread to the town walls, and touched the city itself. Too late, the king tried another means of defense by sending Geoﬀrey de Burillon with several of the garrison troops to destroy the bridge across the River Sarthe and prevent the French ingress. The king’s men were met by the enemy at the bridge and a battle ensued. Although both sides took losses, Geoﬀrey was taken prisoner and those men who survived ﬂed back to the city. They could not close the gate in time and the French streamed in behind them; Roger of Howden claims that both Philip and Richard entered the city

55

M. Jones, “Defence of Medieval Brittany,” 23. Summarized in Warren, Henry II, 60–61; Brown, “List of Castles,” 91–4; and D. Power, “What Did the Frontier of Angevin Normandy Comprise?” ANS 17 (1994): 187. Coulson’s list stands at nineteen demolitions and twenty-one seizures; see Castles in Medieval Society, 141. 57 Coulson, Castles in Medieval Society, 142–3. 56

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together. Fearing the worst, Henry II ﬂed the scene for only the second time in his reign (the ﬁrst being in 1165 at Ceiriog), taking many knights and a few Welshmen with him. Thirty knights and sixty men who remained in LeMans barricaded themselves in its north tower, but Philip employed siege engines against it and mined the walls, forcing their surrender.58 Castles and Henry II: The 1160s A number of Henry’s campaigns are notable for his eﬀorts at attacking, reducing, and destroying castles instead of ﬁghting open battles against the garrisons. For the most part, battles were impossible because rebels chose to shut themselves within protective walls. Under normal conditions, a small garrison could defend a decently equipped and fortiﬁed castle against an army for quite a while; instead, those who rebelled against Henry typically found themselves surrendering their arms very soon after he commenced his siege. While his reign is ﬁlled with sieges, the best illustrations of his capabilities in this regard are undoubtedly his continental campaigns of the 1160s, all of which featured signiﬁcant action involving castles and fortiﬁed towns. In May 1160, Henry II and Louis VII agreed to a truce in the wake of the Toulouse campaign of the previous year.59 The terms included the gift of three castles of Gisors, Neauﬂes-Auvergny, and Château-neuf-sur-Epte to the Knights Templar, who immediately turned them over to Henry. That Louis agreed to such terms in the ﬁrst place belies his understanding of military strategy, for he had not recognized the strategic importance of these castles, all of which were lay within the Vexin. Now he was forced to react: upon hearing that Henry had fortiﬁed the castles, Louis and his brothers-inlaw fortiﬁed Chaumont in Blois, perhaps thinking of deploying attacks from there against Tours. All this did was encourage Henry to attack Blois in enforcement of his rights to the Vexin. Henry marched quickly to Chaumont and besieged the castle; upon hearing of the king’s march towards him, Theobald, the brother-in-law of Louis, quickly garrisoned the castle with men and provisions before ﬂeeing 58 59

Howden, II: 363–4. Ymagines Historiarum, I: 305; Chronica, I: 217–18; Torigini, 206.

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back into France. The castle proved to be no match for Henry: he soon took its walls, captured its garrison of thirty-ﬁve knights and eighty sergeants, and then gave the castle to Hugh de Amboise to hold for him. Henry then fortiﬁed Amboise and Fréteval with garrisons before returning to LeMans for Christmas. Thereafter Robert of Torigini informs us that Henry busied himself with the repair and fortifying of castles in Normandy and built a castle in Mandeville upon the River Vire.60 A truce was not concluded between Henry and Louis until late June 1161, and even this did not prevent Henry from campaigning, for he returned to the south and besieged the castle Castillion on the Garonne, taking it on 10 August.61 1166 was another year of successful sieges for Henry. After deciding in May to levy a ﬁve-year tax for crusading eﬀorts in the Holy Land, other matters soon caught his attention. The Breton Ralph de Fougères had joined in rebellion with Duke Conan IV of Brittany, and Henry began to formulate an expedition while in residence at Chinon. Before he could issue orders for the general levy of his vassals Henry fell ill on 10 June; consequently, he could not move against his enemy until he had recovered nearly a week later.62 When he felt better he joined an army that Robert of Torigini claims was mustered from both sides of the channel. Given that scarcely two weeks had elapsed between Henry’s arrival at Chinon and his march into Brittany, we may well doubt the veracity of this claim and suppose that most of the army had actually been raised in Anjou. Henry took the army on a march northwest, arriving outside of the walls of Fougères itself. The king easily took the castle, and after gaining possession, proceeded to level it to the ground.63 This was Henry’s only campaign in 1166, and we may speculate that its success perhaps oﬀered the king some welcome comfort in the aftermath of his failed Welsh expedition the year before. In 1167, Henry II was forced to march into the Vexin once again when Louis VII ordered raids into Normandy and burned villages between Mantes and Pacy, seemingly in retribution for Henry’s treatment of his ally Count William VIII of Auvergne. Yet if William and Louis had hoped to form an eﬀective alliance against the mighty 60 61 62 63

Torigini, 209–10. Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, I: 101. Eyton, Court, Household, and Itinerary, 94. Torigini, 228.

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English king they were sorely mistaken: after cowing William in the south and reasserting his lordship, Henry swiftly marched back north to Normandy in May. Louis refused peace negotiations and Henry moved to Chaumont-sur-Epte in July. Employing his mercenaries to good advantage, Henry sent his band of Welshmen secretly swimming down the River Epte into the town while the main host advanced towards the gates. The ruse worked: the French soldiers sallied forth to meet the army only to see Chaumont burst into ﬂames behind them. Forced with a decision, the French elected to save their fortress and ran to douse the ﬂames; following closely behind, Henry took the gate in the midst of chaos.64 In retribution for Chaumont, Louis responded by sacking the town of Andely on the Seine, but it was a weak gesture. If the words of Robert of Torigini are any indication, there was some feeling that Louis was in the wrong by infringing upon Henry II’s rights, and the chronicler saw the hand of God in the death of some of the French soldiers through exhaustion and fear.65 The winter of 1167 saw Henry absorbed with the politics of the Becket aﬀair, but January 1168 saw the outbreak of further rebellions in Poitou and Aquitaine. It may have been that the southern nobles had sensed a trend of rebellion, and perhaps the Becket problem had opened up the smallest of chinks in the king’s armor. The rebels were Aldebert, count of March, William IV, count of Angoulême, Robert and Hugh de Silly, Geoﬀrey de Lusignan, and the viscount of Thouars, along with other men who go unnamed in the chronicles. Henry raised an army through both feudal obligations and scutage, took it south in late January to quash the rebellions, and did so in an eﬃcient manner: ﬁrst he besieged and took the castle of Lusignan and then destroyed the rebels’ respective towns. Finally, Henry bolstered the garrisons of his castles in Poitou and left Eleanor of Aquitaine in charge of the area while he returned north.66 The distinguished house of Lusignan more than met its match in the

64 Warren calls this a “brilliantly executed operation; see Henry II, 106; and also Warner, Sieges of the Middle Ages, 118. 65 Ymagines Historiarum, I: 330; Torigini, 232; Chronica, I: 282. On Chaumont itself, see the description in C. C. Perkins, French Cathedrals and Chateaux, 2 vols. (New York, 1911), II: 43–52. 66 Torigini, 235–6. On the scutage of 1168, see H. G. Richardson, “The Chamber under Henry II,” EHR 69 (1954): 603.

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Angevins: after 1168, Geoﬀrey de Lusignan’s military aims were dashed by Henry II again in 1173–1174; afterwards, Geoﬀrey was beaten back from La Marche in 1177 and twice backed the losing side against Richard in 1183 and 1188.67 In the face of such overwhelming might, a truce was quickly brokered. However, on 7 April the truce was broken when Earl Patrick of Salisbury, whom Henry had left in the military command of Aquitaine in 1163, was treacherously murdered.68 The result was a military rampage on the part of Henry that ranged across Brittany and Flanders and provoked a continuing war with King Louis. First, he returned to Brittany in May 1168 and ravaged the lands of the viscount Eudo de Porhoët, who, despite Henry’s recent victories against him, remained a staunch rebel. There Henry destroyed Château-Josselin, a century-old fortiﬁcation and the principal fortress of the Porhoët family.69 Second, he deprived Eudo of the county of Briac and the port city of Vannes. Finally, the king set out against the strongholds of Eudo’s allies in the duchy. He ﬁrst besieged castles in the vicinity of Rennes: Geoﬀrey de Monfort’s rectangular keep of Hédé was surrendered to him; the castle Tinteniac was destroyed; and the strong fortress of Bécherel, the castle of Roland de Dinan, was invested. Bécherel held out for several days until Henry employed siege engines against its walls.70 Moving west from Rennes, Henry descended into Leon and ravaged around the western tip of Brittany. In late June he returned northeast to Normandy to meet with Louis for the resumption of peace talks, as their truce was set to end on 1 July. The two kings met at La Ferté Bernard, where Henry demanded that Louis abandon his sly relations with the English king’s vassals. The rebels, however, who now included envoys from the courts of Scotland, Gwynedd, and Flanders, pleaded with Louis to not desert them. Given Henry’s recent military victories their temerity appears ever so foolish, but in 1168 these particular rebels had little reason to fear him. Scotland’s relations with England had been placid under Malcolm IV, and the new king William the Lion was an ambitious

67 S. Painter, “The Lords of Lusignan in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries,” Speculum 32 (1957): 41–2. 68 Warren, Henry II, 103. 69 Salch, Dictionnaire des Châteaux, 627–8. 70 Torigini, 236–7.

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young man. Wales had repulsed Henry’s campaign in 1165, and Flanders had not yet felt the point of Henry’s sword. Louis himself had for years been succumbing to the ever-growing power of the English and no doubt felt that to back away now would be perilous. Therefore, the French king once again sided with his allies and the negotiations failed. As a result, Henry II spent the rest of 1168 on campaign against the forces arrayed against him, and once again he experienced massive success. In late July, Henry captured the French castle of Beaumont-sur-Oise, a rectangular stone donjon. In August, he marched into Flanders towards the lands of John, count of Ponthieu. John had prevented Matthew of Boulogne from transporting his army south through Ponthieu to join with Henry’s in Normandy; instead, Matthew was forced to hire ships and join Henry by sea. Upon hearing of John’s obstinacy Henry moved against him, and forty towns in the district of Le Vimeu burned under the hand of the English king. By the end of 1168, Henry had demonstrated his military prowess and utter mastery of his enemies in Flanders, Brittany, Poitou, and France. Later campaigns in 1169 were equally successful: on 10 March he forced the submission of William of Angoulême by destroying his castles in Poitou, and Henry later acquired the castles of Montmirail and St. Agnan in Bourges through some creative political wrangling. The reduction of enemy fortresses in 1168 is neatly summed up by an Angevin chronicle: “Hainricus rex multa castella destruxit.”71 In summation, we can state with certainty that Henry II was an extraordinary besieger of fortresses. If defensive, Vegetian warfare was indeed the order of the High Middle Ages, his program of castle-building and territorial control through fortiﬁcations can only improve his military image. Henry made a career out of investing and taking fortresses, from his ﬁrst siege at Bridgport in 1149 until his last at Montrelais in 1187. Of the scores of castles attacked by Henry only two escaped his clutches: at Torigini in 1151, Henry was forced to lift the siege when the armies of Louis VII and Eustace arrived in relief, and the duke also abandoned the siege of Bedford in 1153 when its garrison put up a stout resistance. In all other

71

Chronicæ Sancti Albini Andegavensis, 41.

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assaults upon fortresses Henry was victorious,72 and such triumphs as Chaumont in 1167 demonstrate his aptitude for sophisticated siege warfare. That his only setbacks occurred in the years before his royal coronation attest to his ability to improve his craft over time.

72 With the understanding (as I argue in Chapter Four) that Henry never actually invested Toulouse in 1159.

CHAPTER SIX

THE GREAT REVOLT, 1173–1174 In the words of the Chronicle of Battle Abbey, “the Lord’s martyr [Becket], or rather the Lord, for His martyr, seemed to seek vengeance for the innocent blood. For the king, the king’s son, rebelled against his father, bent on expelling him from the throne, and many of the magnates sided with him, and helped him.”1 The Great Revolt of 1173–1174 is an ideal case study of the range of military operations conducted during the reign of Henry II. It necessitated a vigorous defense of huge chunks of the Angevin Empire against a wide range of enemies and included both the Isles as well as the Continent. The rebellions featured the assembly of great armies and the use of mercenaries, set-piece battles, castle and town sieges and the other mechanics of logistical warfare, relief actions, and truces and negotiations. There were dramatic moments such as the surprise capture of the King of Scots. By putting down the Great Revolt and surviving to rule for another ﬁfteen years, Henry cemented his legacy as a sound military leader who could wage his own wars, delegate authority to competent vassals, and inspire those he commanded to great acts of loyalty and bravery. On All Saints’ Day (1 November) 1172, young Henry and his new wife Margaret traveled to Paris to meet her father, Louis VII. There the French king implanted the seeds of rebellion by suggesting that Henry ask his father for control over either England or Normandy.2 Not seeing Louis’ idea for what it was—a convenient way to separate his enemies—the young Henry went to his father at Limoges in February 1173 and made his request. Henry did have 1

The Chronicle of Battle Abbey, ed. and trans. E. Searle (Oxford, 1980), 274–5. Chronica, II: 40–1. It would take more than just family diﬀerences to stoke the ﬁres of rebellion, however, and much of the support for young Henry was an outgrowth of resentment against Henry II’s strict governance, seen by some as tyrannical; see M. Pacaut, Louis VII et son royaume (Paris, 1964), 208–9. On the young king, see also C. E. Hodgson, Jung Heinrich, König von England ( Jena, 1906); J. H. Round, “A Glimpse of the Young King’s Court (1170),” in Feudal England, 503–8; and R. J. Smith, “Henry II’s Heir: The Acta and Seal of the Young King, 1170–1183,” EHR 116 (2001): 297–326. 2

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a legitimate complaint about his father’s distribution of property. During betrothal negotiations between Henry II and Humbert, count of Maurienne (d. 1189), for their children John and Alice, the elder king gifted the castles of Chinon, Loudun, and Mirebeau to John. Unfortunately, all three castles lay within Maine and Anjou, two counties for which young Henry had paid homage for in 1169.3 The son was justiﬁably outraged, but Henry II could hardly accede to young Henry’s request for the two jewels of the Empire. The son thus stormed away to join his new friend Louis on 5 March. Later, his brothers Geoﬀrey and Richard, spurred on by their mother Eleanor of Aquitaine, left Poitiers to join Henry in Paris.4 Eleanor herself attempted to join them by ﬁrst taking refuge in Poitou at her uncle Raoul’s castle of Faye-la-Vineuse, disguising herself as a man, and traveling incognito towards Chartres. She was intercepted by her husband’s agents, brought to Chinon, and then sent to ﬁfteen years imprisonment at Salisbury.5 The remainder of the rebel force was assembled by King Louis at council in St. Denis after Easter (8 April), where several of his magnates swore oaths to support the young Henry against his father.6 In return, young Henry made a series of generous promises for their homage: to Philip of Flanders, £1,000 of revenue from England and all of Kent, including the castles of Dover and Rochester; to Matthew of Boulogne, the soke of Kirsten in Lindsey, the county of Mortaine, and the honour of Hay; to Theobald of Blois, £200 annually from Anjou and the castle of Amboise, as well as jurisdiction in Touraine— 3 Notably, these were the same castles given to Henry II’s brother Geoﬀrey by their father’s will in 1151. 4 Richard had paid homage to Louis for Aquitaine in 1169, and Eleanor perhaps felt that she no longer needed Henry II to sustain her familial claim to the duchy; in addition, Richard was her favorite son; see R. V. Turner, “Eleanor of Aquitaine and her Children: an Inquiry into Medieval Family Attachment,” JMH 14 (1988): 329–30. The nature of her involvement in the planning stages of the rebellion is up for debate. Desmond Seward gives her an important role but then admits that not a shred of evidence has survived; see Eleanor of Aquitaine (New York, 1979), 129. 5 Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 170–1; Torigini, 255–6; Ymagines Historiarum, I: 355 and 356–66; Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, I: 42; Gervase, I: 242–3. The occasion for her eventual betrayal appears to have been Henry II’s famous mistress, the “Fair Rosamond” Cliﬀord; see Kelly, Four Kings, 182–4; and Jones, War of the Generations, 97–8. 6 One notable omission from the list of Louis’ allies is Baldwin, count of Hainault, who in 1172 pledged homage to Henry II; see Chronicle of Hainault, 63.

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these and other gifts were conﬁrmed by the stamp of the new seal Louis had ordered made for him. The promised amounts were impossibly large—Dover itself was too great a treasure to be parceled away—but young Henry was ﬁlled with zeal and longed to obtain what he considered his rightful inheritance. The last major player in the coalition was King William the Lion of Scotland. William had paid homage to the newly-crowned Henry the Younger in 1170, and in 1173 the son made overtures to him in the hopes of securing a Scottish invasion into England.7 The goal was for William to attack Northumberland while Henry II was busy dealing with the allied armies in Normandy. Yet William had at the time little grudge against the elder king, and young Henry only moved him to action by promising all of the domains held by William’s ancestor David I and brother Malcolm IV, including the land between Newcastleupon-Tyne and Berwick-on-Tweed, the city of Carlisle, and all of Westmoreland. Because William owed homage to both Henrys, he decided to ﬁrst negotiate with the elder king before taking up arms with his rebellious son. Scottish envoys were sent to Henry II in Normandy, where they promised Scottish support in the form of 1,000 knights and many more soldiers in return for lordship over Northumberland. In addition, the envoys voiced William’s threat of renouncing his homage if Henry refused, calling it a denial of rightful Scottish inheritance. Henry refused the entreaty, stating plainly that he had nothing to fear from rebels and no reason to make concessions of any kind. Along with his two chief advisors Bishop Engelram and Earl Waltheof, William was hesitant to join a revolt begun and led by foreigners, but in the end the king was persuaded and the cast of rebels was largely complete. He sent the envoys William of St. Michael and Robert of Huseville to meet with the young Henry and conﬁrm the agreement. Louis and his allies must have felt better after the meeting, for help was on the way.8 To illustrate the scale of the rebellions, a quick glance through the lists of each king’s major allies reveals a decided disadvantage for Henry II:

7 8

Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, I: 6. Fantosme, 37–44.

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Henry II’s Allies Richard de Lucy, justiciar of England William de Mandeville, earl of Essex Reginald, earl of Cornwall William, earl of Gloucester Richard, earl of Strigoil William, earl of Arundel John, count of Vendôme Rhys ap Deheubarth, prince of Wales Jordan Taisson, viscount of the Cotentin Geoﬀrey, bishop of Lincoln Humphrey de Bohun, constable of England Richard de Humet, constable of Normandy

Louis VII’s Allies Philip, count of Flanders Henry the Younger Geoﬀrey Richard Eleanor of Aquitaine Theobald, count of Blois Matthew, count of Boulogne Robert, earl of Leicester William I, king of Scotland David, earl of Huntingdon Hugh, earl of Chester Ralph de Fougères William, earl of Ferrers (Derby) Hugh, count of Bar Hugh Bigod, earl of Norfolk Hugh de Puiset, bishop of Durham Duncan, earl of Fife Gilbert, earl of Angus Waltheof, earl of Dunbar Richard de Morville, constable of Scotland Roger de Mowbray (honour of Mowbray)

Not all of the rebels dispensed with their loyalties at once, particularly in England where William the Lion received steady infusions of new followers. Nonetheless, by June 1173 a great many of Henry II’s nobles across the Angevin Empire had arisen to join the young Henry, and the Great Revolt had begun.9

9 Not included are the large lists of captured knights at the Battle of Dol that are provided in Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi and Chronica, 57–8 and 51–3, respectively.

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Henry II’s naïve trust in his sons had ﬁnally provided the Capetians with a solution to the Angevin juggernaut. Such familial violence was not always the tradition in Anjou, which featured a great sense of cooperation and harmony.10 Before 1173, Henry’s only experience with familial betrayal was the revolt of his brother Geoﬀrey in 1156. As it was, the king’s sons were the least of his concerns, for it would be their newfound allies from France, Flanders, and the Angevin domains who would largely direct the military campaigns. No doubt these magnates saw great proﬁt to be had in the excessive promises made to them by an overly-conﬁdent youth. But Henry II was no novice when it came to warfare and had been dealing with sporadic rebellions since early 1155. As soon as young Henry departed, his father followed his trail to Alençon and discerned his son’s intention. Before March was over Henry II had personally fortiﬁed Gisors and ordered all castles in Normandy to assume a defensive posture. As Thomas Jones has noted, the elder king still held the loyalty of most towns within his domains, while the rebels could count on only their own bases of support for security and safe harbor during the wars.11 The Great Revolt is therefore a story of attacks and sieges of fortiﬁed towns and castles, in which the bulk of the ﬁghting took place, but there were also a surprising number of ﬁeld actions. Main Rebel Attacks The rebels concentrated their attacks against the borders of Normandy, the heart of Henry II’s power and the most strategically vital duchy. All of the initial actions involved sieges, and there is scant evidence that Henry’s enemies were seeking to involve his armies in pitched battle. This was a necessary strategy, for the loosely-arranged border fortresses in Normandy had for years been able to check and frustrate invasions into the duchy. The castles were not built in a pre-planned defensive system, but over time fortresses tended to pop up in the strategically-vital passes anyway. High ground in the south

10 B. S. Bachrach, “Henry II and the Angevin Tradition of Family Hostility,” Albion 16 (1984): 126–30. 11 T. M. Jones, “The Generation Gap of 1173–74: the War between the Two Henrys,” Albion 5 (1973): 37–9.

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and east translated into few easy routes through the Norman borders, and those castles built by Henry and his predecessors were able to monitor and prevent incursions. This is not to say that no attacks ever came through, but David Bates’ insinuation that the occasional holes were due to ineﬀective castle-building on the frontier seems to be overly simplistic.12 Immediately apparent upon studying the course of the Revolt is the decided paucity of rebel campaigns, especially after August 1173. The same was true on the borders of Maine and Brittany, where castle garrisons played an integral role in preventing further incursions.13 The importance of the border defenses was clearly illustrated by the ﬁrst intrusions of the rebels in May and June 1173, attacks aimed at the reduction of key Norman frontier positions. The rebels’ choice of targets demonstrates the amount of advance planning that must have gone into the initial campaigns. In May, Henry the Younger moved against Pacy and Gournay in the Vexin but did not make much progress and eventually abandoned the front, moving south to join Louis VII at Verneuil. The easiest route into Normandy at the time was on the northeast border at Aumarle and Drincourt, and this area bore the brunt of the ﬁrst attack of Philip of Flanders. Aumarle fell on 29 June after only a brief siege. Drincourt was next: Philip marched west from Aumarle and besieged the castle there.14 The siege itself lasted nearly a month, and the garrison surrendered on 21 July. It was, however, a bittersweet victory because one of the conspirators, Matthew of Boulogne, met his end straightaway from an arrow. There are two accounts of Matthew’s death. Jordan Fantosme, who provides a lengthy and dramatic account of the action, says that he died from a lance, but Roger of Howden and Robert of Torigini both claim Matthew caught an arrow oﬀ Drincourt’s walls. Given that Howden and Torigini were both present on the Continent for the event (while Fantosme was in England), the arrow seems the more likely instrument.15

12 D. Bates, “The Rise and Fall of Normandy, c. 911–1204,” in England and Normandy in the Middle Ages, eds. D. Bates and A. Curry (London, 1994), 33. 13 D. Power, “What Did the Frontier of Angevin Normandy Comprise?” ANS 17 (1994): 187–8. 14 Philip of Alsace, count of Flanders, was an important ﬁgure throughout Henry II’s reign; for a very brief biography see D. Nicholas, Medieval Flanders (London, 1992), 71–4. 15 Chronica, II: 49; Torigini, 258; and Fantosme, 7.

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Although Henry II was aware of the various forces arrayed against him he could not be everywhere at once. As he marched north in response to Philip of Flanders’ aggression a second attack commenced further south, where Louis VII and young Henry besieged the large town of Verneuil in July. The town was protected by a stone wall and moat and its constables Hugh de Lacy and Hugh de Beauchamp were able to hold out into August and until provisions began to diminish rapidly. The garrison thereupon agreed to a three-day truce in which Verneuil could appeal to Henry II for succor, and if none arrived within that period, the town was to be surrendered.16 Louis and young Henry felt sure that Henry II, so engaged with Philip of Flanders in the north, would never meet the deadline. Their hopes would soon be dashed, and the sieges of Drincourt and Verneuil, while signiﬁcant border actions, were in fact that the only major actions fought by Louis, Philip, and young Henry in 1173. The other major attacks upon Henry II’s domains in 1173 were in England. The events on the Continent in June and July were evidence enough to convince the most uneasy of the rebels, William the Lion, that he would not be facing the English alone. William gathered together an army from his own lands as well as Ross and Moray and mustered at Caddonlee. Several English knights, taking advantage of their king’s preoccupations, joined William as well, thereby leaving Henry II with few supporters in the north.17 The size and nature of the Scottish army is a matter of debate. The estimate for its number of soldiers varies wildly from William of Newburgh’s 80,000 to Fantosme’s quarante mile, “forty thousand, if Fantosme does not lie.”18 While these numbers are clearly exaggerated, William the Lion did have a knack for raising troops: in 1211, for example, he would raise 4,000 men for campaign, and throughout the twelfth century it took little persuading to collect a large army of Scots if the English were to be the foe.19 Scotland had a 16

Chronica, II: 49. Those remaining loyal included Bernard de Balliol, Roger FitzRichard, Walter de Bolebec, William de Vesci, and members of the Stuteville family; see J. Green, “Aristocratic Loyalties on the Northern Frontier of England, circa 1100–1174,” in England in the Twelfth Century: Proceedings of the 1988 Harlaxton Symposium, ed. D. Williams (Woodbridge, 1990), 99. 18 Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 183; Fantosme, 71. 19 A. Young, “The Earls and Earldom of Buchan in the Thirteenth Century,” in Medieval Scotland: Crown, Lordship and Community, Essays presented to G. W. S. Barrow, eds. A. Grant and K. J. Stringer (Edinburgh, 1993), 175; Strickland, “Securing the North,” 208. 17

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system of feudal obligation similar to that of England, but little evidence on Scottish ﬁefs during the reign of William the Lion has survived. G. W. S. Barrow has edited around 500 of William’s writs and charters, which represent only a fraction of the total issued, and suggests that the charters support the idea of a feudal Scottish army led by Scottish earls and native thanes. Between 1165 and 1182 the acts indicate only 23 knights’ fees and one speciﬁc obligation of footman and mounted archer each. Larger towns such as Edinburgh are conspicuously absent, however, and the number of obligations was probably considerably greater.20 Matthew Strickland suggests a total number of about 100 knights in the ﬁeld, supplemented by stipendiarii from England and Flanders, a reasonable number given that we know that William the Lion rode with more than sixty knights in the summer of 1174. The Scottish infantry fought in undisciplined ranks and used wild charges in attack and were armed with spears and long knives, while the knights were comparable to those in England and the Continent.21 The Scots invaded Northumbria at some point after the Nativity of John the Baptist (24 June). William’s ﬁrst order of business was to send his brother David, earl of Huntingdon, to assist Leicester against the siege of Henry II’s justiciar Richard de Lucy. Unfortunately, by the time David’s force arrived the town had already been consumed by ﬁre.22 In the meantime, William brought his army to Wark Castle. Its castellan Roger de Stuteville was fearful of the large Scottish host and asked for a respite of forty days during which he might seek succor from Henry II. This was granted, and the Scots then moved south to Warkworth Castle, a feeble structure on which William chose not to waste his time. He continued south to Newcastleupon-Tyne. William did not yet have any siege engines to deploy against its walls, and its lord Roger ﬁtz Richard refused to surrender the city. Declining a siege for the second time, William ravaged the lands around Newcastle before ultimately marching westward, bypassing Prudhoe Castle for the moment, and arriving at Carlisle,

20 Regesta Regum Scottorum, 56–7 and nos. 43, 45, 80, 84, 85, 116, 125, 131, 135–7, 140, 147, and 171. In act 152 a ﬁef is held for comuni auxilio or “common army service.” 21 Strickland, “Securing the North,” 222–4. 22 Ymagines Historiarum, I: 376; D. D. R. Owen, William the Lion, 1143–1214: Kingship and Culture (East Linton, 1997), 49.

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the most strategically valuable castle in Cumbria.23 Carlisle lay in the northwest Valley of Eden and commanded not only the Solway Firth but also the easiest land route between the county and Scotland. Its castellan, Robert de Vaux, met the Scots outside the castle gates and a great melee ensued, with the garrison matching the besiegers blow for blow. The Scots were unable to fully blockade the fortress, and Robert’s garrison remained well-stocked with provisions and even some booty from their successful combat.24 During the siege of Carlisle William received word of an approaching English host under the command of the Richard de Lucy, which had turned north to meet the Scots after the siege of Leicester. Deciding to avoid open battle, William left a portion of his army to continue the siege but moved the bulk of his soldiers away, drifting about the countryside to take such minor strongholds as Appleby, Burgh, and Liddell.25 The French and Scottish campaigns of 1173 had much in common. Both Louis and William had gathered large armies and attacked strategically vital border fortresses, but neither leader had given much thought beyond their initial targets. In addition, neither fully invested their initial targets: both Verneuil and Wark were given opportunities to seek outside assistance. This was a common practice in twelfthcentury warfare but a decidedly feeble way to begin a war. William’s terms with Wark are especially curious because he gave them a full forty days respite despite having full knowledge of an English army operating just a hundred miles to the south. We might also question the grand strategy of the Great Revolt, which seems to have been guided by two central principles. The ﬁrst was to draw the enemy army to Point A; secondly, while he was thus occupied with Point A, quickly attack and capture Point B, which was geographically out of reach of the now-distracted enemy. This is a diversionary strategy dependant upon the enemy acting exactly as the strategist thinks he should. This strategy failed Louis and William completely because the English and Angevin forces did not, in fact, behave as they were supposed to. For example, while Henry II was marching north towards

23

Fantosme, 48–67. Fantosme, 81. On the person of Robert de Vaux, see H. Dorherty, “Robert de Vaux and Roger de Stuteville, Sheriﬀs of Cumberland and Northumberland, 1170–1185,” ANS 28 (2006): 79–90. 25 Chronica, II: 60; Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, I: 64–66. 24

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Drincourt (Point A), he heard about the agreement at Verneuil (Point B) and immediately wheeled his army about and marched south at full speed. This was a risky ploy because the road from Drincourt to Rouen was now vulnerable, but Louis and Henry the Younger were at Verneuil and they were the bigger prey. As it was, Henry II’s fortune was good: after the diﬃcult siege at Drincourt, Philip of Flanders erred by not moving immediately to Rouen. Instead, he chose to ravage the countryside of northern Normandy.26 This probably gained much booty for his soldiers but it did little to prosecute the overall war eﬀort. For Louis, the results were disastrous because Henry II’s sudden appearance at Verneuil (Point B, not Point A as originally planned) forced him to reconsider his options. On the third day of the Verneuil truce (8 August) Henry arrived on a hill near the city, formed his army into proper battle array, and sent messengers to the French, telling them to either abandon their siege or prepare for pitched battle. After some consideration, Louis decided to retreat, sacking the city before he left. Henry chased after him and caught a portion of the French rearguard, but Louis had managed to escape.27 Following his relief of Verneuil in August Henry II returned to Rouen in triumph, for the capital had survived and so far his enemies had little to show for their eﬀorts. The limited scale of Louis’ war plan is somewhat surprising and reﬂects poorly upon his military reputation. The Great Revolt was probably his best chance to reduce Henry II’s enormous power, but he was not able to formulate a strategy that would eliminate the major advantages of his enemy. The border attacks were a good start, but Louis did nothing to counter Henry’s ability to march rapidly. Verneuil was but one example of the king’s speed; as Wace writes, “then you would have seen Henry racing through the border country, dashing from one area to another and doing three days’ journey or more in a single day; his men thought he must be ﬂying.”28 In the end, Louis’ failures at Verneuil were both strategic and tactical. Louis’ attack on Verneuil was wholly dependent upon Henry 26

Fantosme, 12. Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 174–5; Chronica, I: 49–50; Ymagines Historiarum, I: 374–5. 28 The History of the Norman People: Wace’s Roman de Rou, trans. G. S. Burgess (Woodbridge, 2004), 4. Wace had a sound knowledge of warfare, dedicated this work to Henry II himself, and completed it by 1174; see M. Bennett, “Wace and Warfare,” 230–50; and Haskins, “Henry II as a Patron of Literature,” 74. 27

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not being able to ﬁght two foes at once. In addition, the French king was simply not very good at besieging fortiﬁed towns. Roger of Howden tells us that the French attack was frustrated by the stout defense of the constables Lacy and Beauchamp. Louis managed to take only a small section of the walls with his siege engines, and that success came after a whole month of siege; in the meantime, Henry II had been able to raise an army, hire mercenaries, and march north towards Drincourt. After so long a siege his soldiers were not prepared to then engage in battle when so challenged at the arrival of Henry in August. Even leaving Verneuil aside, there is much to criticize in Louis’ career as a general. The French king tended to rely too heavily upon the insurrections of others to propagate his own political interests, men who frequently led him down the path of defeat and compromise. As such he was a weak general, much like his ally William the Lion, whom, Jordan Fantosme tells us, relied too much on new advice and saw his warfare suﬀer as a result. William of Newburgh spoke in similar terms by quoting 1 Cor 15: 33: “do not be led astray: bad company corrupts good morals.”29 It is true that he was a reluctant warrior (and king, for that matter), having studied for the Church in his early days, but his haphazard methods of ﬁghting seem to stem from problems of leadership, not intelligence or ability. Jim Bradbury is one of Louis’ defenders, however, and has suggested an alternative criterion: It is odd that in our age when warfare is condemned, we reserve our highest praise for those in the past whose triumphs were mainly military, and thus undervalue those who triumphed by other means. If we are to appreciate the Capetians, we need to revise the values we credit in the past. Neither Louis VII nor Philip Augustus gained their main triumphs through war. Since they nevertheless achieved much, ought we not to praise them the more?30

Yet the imposition of modern values on the past can be problematic. Louis was busied with warfare from the Second Crusade on in a period where, truly, war was a political instrument and continuation of political intercourse.31 It is therefore not only appropriate but

29 30 31

Fantosme, 69; Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 223–4. Bradbury, Philip Augustus, 37. The classic statement of Clausewitz; see On War, 87.

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necessary to judge his military performance, and in such an analysis history does not shine favorably upon the French king. Henry II’s Responses As was his general strategy during the 1150s and 1160s, upon the outbreak of the Great Revolt Henry II immediately sought to bring his opponents to battle. The best way to defeat the incursions into Normandy was to inﬂict material losses, and when the king could not force a clash of arms in the ﬁeld he resorted to attacks on castles and towns as a secondary option. This much is clear from the very ﬁrst moments of his defensive campaign in 1173. After hearing of the siege at Aumarle, Henry II he left his residence at Lillebone and gathered an army of knights and men from Anjou and Gascony, as well as a strong force of Brabanters, and marched to meet Philip’s army in the north. On his way to the relief of Verneuil Henry paused to address Breteuil Castle, a fortress belonging to Robert of Leicester, one of the co-conspirators. His intention was probably to defeat Robert then and there but the earl ﬂed the scene, and in frustration Henry burned the castle to the ground. He then made his way to Verneuil and tried again to engage his enemy, but Louis refused the ﬁeld and ﬂed to the east. Even so, the second front on the Norman border had been paciﬁed, and with his enemies retreating back into France Henry wheeled his army about again, this time to the northeast, where after a quick march he took the castle of Damville and captured its garrison.32 By mid-August another threat against Normandy had emerged, this time in the southwest on the border of Brittany. Henry’s vassals Hugh of Chester and Ralph de Fougères sat near Dol with a Breton army, and because he had been so successful in June and July, the king was able to turn his full attention to the matter. Due to their position, the Bretons constituted the least deadly threat to Normandy in 1173. There are few easy entry points through the southern hills of the duchy, and even if they managed to get past Avranches the road to Rouen was long and fraught with danger, given the number of castles and towns that remained loyal to Henry II. There was

32

Chronica, I: 50–1.

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therefore little reason for the king himself to march south to battle: he could remain in Rouen to direct the war while sending a subordinate, William de Humet, the son of Richard de Humet, Henry’s constable in Normandy, to deal with the Breton threat.33 The familia regis remained in Rouen, where we get one of the few snapshots of its membership: William de Mandeville, Strongbow, William of Arundel, and John of Vendôme, Richard de Humet, and Richard ﬁtz Count (the brother of both William, earl of Gloucester, and Roger, bishop of Worcester), Jordan Taisson, and the knights Richard de Vernun and Henry de Newburgh.34 Riding alongside William de Humet’s knights was a force of hired Brabanters into Brittany and a group of Norman soldiers. They met the Breton army on 20 August at the Battle of Dol. It was a rout: the Brabanters plowed through the Breton ranks in a cavalry charge and slew hundreds, with the remainder running to ﬁnd refuge in either Dol or its castle. Henry’s mercenaries immediately laid siege to both, and three days later the king himself arrived with his siege equipment. This was enough to force the garrison’s surrender. All told, over eighty knights were taken prisoner, along with the rebels Chester and Fougères.35 The rebels on the Continent were by the fall of 1173 dispirited as a result of Henry II’s convincing victories, and they soon made overtures of peace. Before a meeting could take place a group of French knights skirmished with knights of Henry II between Gisors and Curteles on 24 September and the French were defeated; in the fray, William de Mandeville apprehended Engelram, castellan of Trie, and brought him as hostage to Henry II. When the groups convened negotiations between Gisors and Trie on 25 September, therefore, the rebels began from a position of further weakness. At the meeting sat Henry’s three sons, Louis, and numerous secular and ecclesiastical magnates. Henry II’s magnanimity was symbolic of the middle and later stages of his reign as a whole; rather than engaging in suppressive warfare, he sought stability and reconciliation, especially within his family. Now fully aware of their displeasure, he oﬀered them land and money in return for peace. The stipulations were as follows:

33 34 35

On Richard de Humet, see Domesday Descendants II, 522. Eyton, Court, Household, and Itinerary, 176. Chronica, II: 51–3; Torigini, 259–60; Fantosme, 20; Ymagines Historiarum, I: 378.

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1. Young Henry would receive half of Henry II’s revenues from England and four castles there OR half of the revenues from Normandy along with one castle each in Anjou, Maine, and Touraine. 2. Richard was oﬀered half the revenues of Aquitaine and four castles there. 3. Geoﬀrey was oﬀered all of Brittany if he married Constance, daughter of Duke Conan IV. For these terms Henry II submitted himself to the judgment of the papal legates then in France. His sons may well have been tempted by the oﬀer, but Louis and his other allies had decided not to accept terms after all, ﬁguring that conﬂict within the Angevin household was of greater beneﬁt than a treaty. Robert of Leicester, a ﬁery rebel who would soon cause great troubles in England, shouted obscenities at Henry and tried to draw his sword to strike him. As he was caught from behind and restrained, the conference broke up and the rebels resumed their hostile posture.36 With Henry II busy on the Continent, the defense of England was left in the capable hands of the justiciar Richard de Lucy. A notable and powerful ﬁgure in Angevin England, Richard had once served in the court of King Stephen and actually fought Henry II’s father Geoﬀrey at the siege of Falaise in 1138. In the 1153 Treaty of Winchester, he was made Constable of both the Tower of London and Windsor Castle, and by 1166 he held Pevensey, more than ten knights’ fees, and the honor of Ongar, as well as numerous farms throughout the English midlands.37 His administrative skills and sense of loyalty were both attractive qualities, and in 1154 Henry II appointed Richard to the oﬃce of Justiciar of England, which he served jointly with Robert, earl of Leicester.38 He had a hand in crafting the controversial Constitutions of Clarendon in 1164, and for that he was excommunicated by Archbishop Becket during a Pentecost homily on 12 June 1166 at Vézelay.39 After Robert’s death

36

Chronica, II: 53–4. F. West, The Justiciarship in England, 1066–1232 (Cambridge, 1966), 38–9. See also J. H. Round, “The Honour of Ongar,” Transactions of the Essex Archaeological Society, New Ser. 7 (1900): 142–52. 38 For background see D. Bates, “The Origins of the Justiciarship,” ANS 4 (1981): 1–13. 39 Letters of John of Salisbury: Volume Two, no. 168. 37

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in April 1168 he became the sole Justiciar and the most important minister of England, second in power only to King Henry himself.40 At the outbreak of the Great Revolt he was named regent of England and saw immediately to the defense of the country. In July, Richard moved against the key rebel stronghold of Leicester. Although Robert (son of Richard’s former co-justiciar) was himself in Normandy, his constable Anketil Mallory held the castle of Leicester against the royal armies. Richard gathered an army and equipped it for siege warfare. He was accompanied by Humphrey de Bohun, Henry II’s constable. They invested the town on 3 July 1173 and it quickly fell after a ﬁre swept through the local buildings and forced the residents, who were not allowed within the protection of the castle, to ﬂee. Mallory held out in the castle for a month, and with autumn fast approaching Richard concluded a truce that was to last until the feast of St. Hilary (21 October).41 Now he turned to the north, where his compatriot Humphrey had burned Berwick Castle to the ground. Richard was forced to restrain the constable’s attacks because word had arrived that Robert of Leicester had returned to England and landed at Orwell. Jordan Fantosme relates that Richard sent messengers to William the Lion and concluded a truce between Scotland and England that was to last until the summer of 1174.42 Savvy diplomacy thus prevented Richard from having to ﬁght a war on two fronts; illustrated here is the diﬀerence in strategic thinking between the justiciar and his king, who may well have tried to ﬁght both incursions as he had done in Normandy. Richard’s treaty with William allowed him the freedom to turn south towards East Anglia to meet the new threat of Robert of Leicester’s invasion force. After storming out of the September negotiations at Gisors, Robert had hired a large army of Flemish mercenaries and sailed for England. Upon landing, he joined forces with an old conspirator from 1157, Hugh Bigod, who further supplied him with troops and provisions from his castle of Framlingham. Richard de Lucy moved his army to St. Edmund’s, where he was 40 As recorded in The Chronicle of Battle Abbey, 250–1. The laudatory remark may be attributed to the fact that Walter de Lucy was Richard’s brother, yet modern authors concur; see West, Justiciarship in England, 52. For more on the Lucy family, see J. H. Round, “The Heirs of Richard de Lucy,” The Genealogist 15 (1899): 129–33. 41 Ymagines Historiarum, I: 376. The cause of the ﬁre is unknown; see Jones, War of the Generations, 141–2. 42 Fantosme, 82–89.

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joined by several of Henry II’s still-loyal magnates: Reginald, earl of Cornwall (d. 1175), Robert, earl of Gloucester, William, earl of Arundel (d. 1176), and constable Humphrey with his 300 knights.43 Robert of Leicester, trying to bring his army back to Leicester itself, moved west from Framlingham and assaulted Norwich, killing some and collecting spoils.44 He and Bigod also tried to turn the citizens of Dunwich to their side but were met by curses and rocks thrown by the town’s women and children. The rebels were unable to take the town, probably because the Flemings were not equipped for siege warfare, so the march west towards Leicester was resumed.45 On 17 October, Robert and Bigod arrived at Fornham and were met by the English army. Both sides took the time to draw up their ranks in proper array. Full details of the battle escape us, for the only accounts relate simply that the lines met and the battle was won in short fashion by Richard de Lucy and the assembled magnates.46 Roger of Howden claims that 10,000 of Earl Robert’s hired Flemings died in battle, a sure exaggeration given that Howden was at the time in Normandy, not England.47 Jordan Fantosme claims that the Flemings were cut down by “in ﬁfteens, in forties, in hundreds, in thousands.” Robert and Hugh de Chateaux of France were both taken prisoner and sent in chains to join Hugh of Chester, who had been captured at the Battle at Dol in August. For his part, Hugh Bigod was allowed to purchase a truce and dismiss the Flemings he had hired.48 The Fight at Fornham was a signiﬁcant action and the largest set-piece battle of Henry II’s reign. It was a great victory over the

43 Chronica, II: 54–5. Here Howden has made a mistake, for there was only one earl of Gloucester called Robert, that being the bastard son of Henry I. Surely the chronicler meant William of Gloucester (d. 1183); see Handbook of British Chronology, eds. E. B. Fryde, D. E. Greenway, S. Porter, and I. Roy, 3rd ed. (London, 1986), 463. 44 Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 178; see also Radulﬁ Nigri Chronica, ed. R. Anstruther, in Publications of the Caxton Society 13 (Reprint, New York, 1967), 176. 45 Fantosme, 91–4. 46 But see the attempts at a reconstruction in Beeler, Warfare in England, 176–8; and Oman, History of the Art of War, I: 401–2. 47 Still, the force was probably quite large; the chronicle of St. Alban’s in Anjou speaks of 3,000 Flemings hired by Robert of Leicester; see Chronicæ Sancti Albini Andegavensis, 42. 48 Chronica, II: 54–5; Fantosme, 100–109; Gervase, I: 246; Ymagines Historiarum, I: 378.

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rebellious forces set to ravage across eastern England, but more importantly, it was instrumental in allowing Henry II to remain on the Continent. If the king had been forced to leave Normandy, his enemies could have seized the opportunity and renewed their concerted attacks upon its borders. Instead, Henry could rest easy with Richard de Lucy holding ﬁrm in England and continue his own campaigns against rebel positions in his domains. The king spent the rest of 1173 in Touraine, attacking several castles after 12 November and accepting the surrender of Hay, Pruilly, and Campenni. He then stormed Vendôme, which was being held against him by the usurper Buchard de Lavardin. He took the town and captured Buchard and scores of his knights. It was a ﬁtting end to a year in which he or his magnates had beaten back nearly every rebel challenge. The Second Year The Great Revolt achieved extremely limited results during 1173, but neither young Henry nor his allies sought to end their opposition. Their persistence is not well explained in the chronicles. Most of the English chronicles accuse the rebels of greed, hatred, or lust for power. While these were always strong motivations, it is more likely that the rebels kept ﬁghting simply because there were so many of them left. The consensus must have been that victory was still possible. Although Robert of Leicester’s Flemings had been wiped out along with the rebel Bretons at Dol, many of those killed or captured were only hired mercenaries and could slowly be replaced. Two viable fronts remained on the Norman borders in the north and east near Flanders and the Vexin. The armies of Philip of Flanders remained, as did the French knights and infantry. Perhaps most importantly, William the Lion had demonstrated an ability to raise a large army, deploy it in multiple locations, and pull away English resources in the process. His armies had not been involved at the Fight at Fornham and remained intact and relatively unscathed. Once again, however, the rebel strategy for success depended upon their ability to keep Henry II away from the primary areas of attack and lure him to Point A, which in 1174 had become England. If Henry II could yet be drawn away from the Continent fresh opportunities in Normandy might arise. This strategy had failed in 1173, but Louis and his allies appeared to be sticking to it. They would

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have to wait until William’s truce with Richard de Lucy expired, however, and in the meantime their bubbling resentment resurfaced in January 1174. Henry the Younger, along with Philip of Flanders and Theobald of Blois, broke the winter truce and attacked Sées but could not take it. Afterwards both sides agreed to sensible truces until after Easter (24 March), when the spring thaw would make campaigning more manageable.49 Young Henry’s inexperience shines clear in the fact that not once during the Great Revolt did he rise up to lead an army to victory, and in fact this was his ﬁrst real occasion of military leadership. After Easter, Henry II took his typical approach to warfare by moving to secure his physical assets before leading campaigns against his enemies. On 30 April, Henry II moved from Normandy to LeMans, intent on securing his lands in Maine and Anjou. The strong resistance of his castles and towns had been the key to his survival the year before and he was intent on keeping them intact. He ﬁrst saw to the security of Poitiers and then marched to Saintes, where he relieved the town from a band of his son Richard’s warriors. On 11 June, Henry II seized Ancenis on the River Loire and built a castle there, then ravaged the lands in Samur around St. Florent. This appears to have been a shoring-up campaign to protect his southern borders against any future eﬀorts of Richard or Geoﬀrey. When summer ﬁnally arrived Normandy and Anjou were ready for war. The state of aﬀairs in England, however, had suddenly taken a turn for the worse. The news was delivered by Richard of Ilchester, the bishop-elect of Winchester (d. 1188) at a council at Bonneville on 24 June: after Whit Sunday (12 May), Anketil Mallory had attacked the king’s men in Northampton, and William, earl of Ferrers (d. 1190), sacked Nottingham and set it ablaze.50 William the Lion also reentered the conﬂict after Easter. Initially, the incursions were somewhat eﬀective, for David of Huntingdon ravaged lands in Northampton and managed to assume the lordship of Leicester. William, maneuvering with the greater portion of the Scottish army, rode north towards the castle of Wark, which he had bypassed the previous spring. His ranks had swelled with numerous infusions of men, including the soldiers of Roger Mowbray and Adam de Port,

49 50

Ymagines Historiarum, I: 379. Chronica, II: 58.

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a host of Galwegians, rebellious English knights who held lands in Scotland, and even the famous rebel of Hereford, Eric the Wild.51 Even Hugh de Puiset, bishop of Durham (d. 1195), had come over to the Scottish side and promised 300 marks to William in exchange for the safety of Durham itself. As John Beeler notes, by late April 1174 the Scottish problem in the north had become disconcerting: For the royalists, the seriousness of the situation in the north was obvious. The Scots had captured seven castles; two others were under obligation to surrender unless relieved by a speciﬁc time; a tenth was besieged; and one of the most powerful of the northern magnates, Bishop Hugh of Durham, was conniving with the enemy.52

On the march, William sent portions of his army to attack Bamburgh Castle and destroy the town of Belford before ﬁnally arriving at Wark, still defended by Roger de Stuteville; its fall would give William nearly unfettered control north of Newcastle. The emergence of these new threats prompted a new anxiety, and Richard of Ilchester requested that the king return to attend to England.53 This was the moment the allies had been waiting for: Henry II departed for England on 8 July, and within two weeks young Henry, Louis VII, and Philip of Flanders the rebels reentered Normandy and besieged the city of Rouen (Point B), hoping to capture the Norman capital and bring the Angevin to negotiations in one fell swoop. Could Henry quell the rebels in England and return in time to prevent the fall of Normandy? Once again, fortune smiled upon the Angevin king and his citizens were up to the monumental task of holding oﬀ the siege until he could return. They matched each attack with surprising resilience, even preventing a surprise rush on the day of rest for the feast of St. Lawrence (10 August).54 Still, the French army remained outside the city and its citizens could not hold out forever. The defenders of Wark Castle were presented with an equally daunting task. Roger de Stuteville had begged for a truce and even considered surrendering the fortress in 1173, but now he was emboldened by Henry II’s successes and determined to hold fast. His garrison 51

Fantosme, 139; Ymagines Historiarum, II: 376; Hollister, Military Organization, 249. Chronica, II: 56–7; Beeler, Warfare in England, 180; see in general G. V. Scammell, Hugh de Puiset, Bishop of Durham (Cambridge, 1956). 53 Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, I: 71; Ymagines Historiarum, I: 379–80. 54 Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 190–2. 52

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of only twenty knights, joined by a small group of sergeants, seemed a poor counter to the massive Scottish army, who mounted a great eﬀort to take the castle. Over the winter William had acquired siege equipment and Jordan Fantosme notes, “he intended to besiege Wark; he will capture the castle with his Flemings and his archers, with his catapults, with his sturdy siege engines, and his slingers and his cross-bowmen.” William’s engineers also had steel picks with which to hack at stone and wooden walls. At the outset of the siege Stuteville’s soldiers took a series of careful shots with their bows, working to conserve their supply of arrows, and managing to fell several attackers as the Scots rushed the castle walls. Frustrated, William called up his catapults to batter down the gate. The ﬁrst hurled stone ﬂew straight up, came straight down, and crushed one of the knights standing nearby. Switching tactics, the king ordered a belfry put against the walls in order to burn the castle. Roger and his men kept ﬁring arrows, picking oﬀ the men pushing their contraption ahead. William’s timidity as a commander was now fully revealed: upset at his losses, he made the decision to abandon Wark and move to another target—“Roger Stuteville’s heart did not swell with joy . . . nor are any of his men killed or maimed.”55 Having failed in his assault upon Wark, William returned to the decidedly more diﬃcult target of Carlisle, where he had left a portion of his army the year before. This time William was able to blockade the stone keep, and once his provisions failed Robert de Vaux agreed to a treaty in which he had until Michelmas (29 September) to receive succor from Henry II. If no aid arrived, the castellan promised to surrender both town and castle. The scene is striking for its similarity to Louis’ eﬀorts at Verneuil the previous year. Thinking that Carlisle was now eliminated as a threat, William marched back east and besieged the castle of Prudhoe, but now his failure to actually capture key fortresses caught up with him. Before William could take Prudhoe, a loyalist army led by Ranulf de Glanville and Robert de Stuteville, sheriﬀ of York, arrived to relieve its garrison.56 Once again William was forced to turn away from a target. Unlike his spring campaign, his choices were now rather limited. If 55

Fantosme, 122–35. The sheriﬀ is Robert III; for the confusion surrounding the multiple Rogers and Roberts de Stuteville, see Dorherty, “Robert de Vaux and Roger de Stuteville,” 69–73. 56

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he turned south he risked meeting the army of Richard de Lucy that surely awaited him; therefore, the Scots moved east to the castle of Alnwick near the coast, a strong polygonal shell castle on a motte and stone bailey. Given their poor record against the inferior castle of Prudhoe and the small garrison at Wark, his men could not have been optimistic at their prospects. He had actually attacked Alnwick once before in 1172 without success, and the fortress was a constant reminder of English power in Northumbria.57 By now the Scots were badly in need of provisions would need fresh supplies before investing Alnwick fully, so William split his army into three divisions commanded by Duncan, earl of Fife (d. 1204), Gilbert, earl of Angus (d. 1187), and Richard de Morville, and ordered them to plunder and ravage the countryside. William kept 500 men for his personal retinue, including several earls and experienced knights. On the morning of 13 July 1174 disaster struck: while awaiting the return of his divisions for the assault on Alnwick William decided to rest, removed his helmet, and sat down for breakfast. In a ﬂash he was surprised by a group of Yorkshire knights that had followed the Scots from Prudhoe to Alnwick, and William was captured in the ensuing melee. As soon as the native Scots heard of William’s capture they turned upon the Englishmen in their army as well as against the Galwegians.58 Endgame: The Great Revolt Fails Henry II landed at Southampton on 8 July to save England from the Scots. He arrived in the company of several prisoners, including his duplicitous wife Eleanor, as well as a large force of Brabanters he had contracted in Normandy. For reasons of piety or expedience at which we can only guess, the king marched directly to Kent and undertook a pilgrimage to the tomb of St. Thomas Becket at Canterbury Cathedral on 12 July. Walking on bare feet, Henry proceeded to the crypt, where he prostrated himself and accepted the lashes of the monks there in penance.59 Henry left Canterbury on 13 July, the very same day that William was taken at Alnwick.

57

Fry, Castles of Britain and Ireland, 119–20. Chronica, II: 63; Gervase, II: 247. 59 Chronica, II: 61–2; Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 187–9; Gervase, I: 248; Expugnatio, 297–8. 58

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Writers both medieval and modern have been quick to point out the religious symbolism of these two simultaneous events. When news of the king’s capture reached Henry in London he was overjoyed, gave thanks to God and the martyr Thomas, and set out to complete his victory. 60 Henry joined with his armies and besieged Huntingdon, which Earl David surrendered on 21 July. This was followed by the surrender Hugh Bigod at Framlingham four days later.61 The capture of William the Lion inspired gestures of loyalty around the Isle: Geoﬀrey, bishop-elect of Lincoln, captured Roger de Mowbray’s castle of Malzeard; and Rhys ap Deheubarth besieged the castle of Tutbury, held by the rebel William of Ferrers. Thereafter one rebel after another came to surrender to the English king at Northampton on 31 July, including Hugh de Puiset.62 With matters settled in England, Henry crossed the Channel with William the Lion in tow. By August 1174, Henry II’s enemies had been defeated in England, Brittany, Maine, and Anjou, some by the king’s hand and others by members of his household. His greatest legacy from the rebellions was his ability to keep a cool head, move to where he was needed the most, and coordinate military responses by sending appropriate forces to where they would be eﬀective. Many of the principal rebels had been captured and imprisoned, including William the Lion, Robert of Leicester, Hugh Bigod, Ralph de Fougères, and Hugh of Chester. The last ﬁsh remained at large, but they would prove to be an easy catch. Henry landed at Barﬂeur on 8 August and began assembling an army with which to relieve the city of Rouen. It was composed of the king’s familia, Welshmen he had brought from England, and Brabanters, some in the midst of their forty-day tenures and others newly hired. Henry deployed his mercenaries so eﬀectively that the French abandoned the siege. The chronicler Gilbert of Mons,

60

Gervase, II: 81. There is some debate over David’s surrender; he may have surrendered immediately or escaped from Huntingdon to Scotland for a short time; see K. J. Stringer, Earl David of Huntingdon, 1152–1219 (Edinburgh, 1985), 27. 62 Chronica, I: 63. Unluckily for Hugh, the rebel reversal came just as his nephew Hugh, count of Bar, had arrived in England with an army of forty knights and ﬁve hundred Flemish mercenaries, all of whom were sent back to the Continent; see Eyton, Court, Household, and Itinerary, 182. 61

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while often critical of the English and favorable towards Louis VII and especially Philip Augustus, rather even-handedly explains that the coalition at Rouen had no success because Henry II was “an astute and vigorous man and capable of tremendous valour.”63 The rebellions now defeated in every quarter, all that remained were the negotiations for peace. Movements towards a conference were initially diﬃcult. Immediately following the relief of Rouen on 9 August, Louis VII agreed to confer with Henry II at Malaunay, between Rouen and Tostes. Each king was to be escorted by a small portion of his army to ensure security, but Louis never appeared at the talks, choosing instead to retreat for a while back into France. After a few days, however, Louis thought better of himself, and a meeting was set at Gisors on the Nativity of Mary (8 September). This conference also failed to achieve anything, for Richard was still besieging his father’s castles in Poitou and was not present. A third meeting was arranged for Michelmas at Mont Louis, between Tours and Amboise, and Henry and Louis agreed that Richard should be given no further support until he appeared for this ﬁnal conference. Thereafter, Henry II took his army south into Poitou and chased Richard to and fro until the boy ﬁnally surrendered, and, with tears streaming, begged for his father’s forgiveness. Consequently, all parties met on Michelmas and concluded the Treaty of Mont Louis, which states the following general settlement: 1. Henry’s sons are absolved of all oaths between themselves and vassals of Henry II; conversely, all vassals having made oaths with said sons are also absolved. This is conditional upon all men regarding Henry II as their liege lord. 2. Henry II, his sons, and his liegemen are to receive possession of the lands they held ﬁfteen days before the rebellion. 3. So long as they serve him as their lord, Henry II’s liegemen are pardoned and will not receive further harm from the king.64 4. The captured rebel leaders are to give hostages and/or oaths in exchange for their liberty.

63

Chronicle of Hainault, 65. For records of the treaty see Chronica, II: 67–69; Ymagines Historiarum, I: 394–5; and Historia Rerum Anglicarum, I: 196–7. 64

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Further clauses applied speciﬁcally to Henry’s sons: 5. To Henry the Younger, the king gives two castles in Normandy and £15,000 annual revenue from Anjou; in addition, he will conﬁrm Henry II’s initial gifts to his brother John.65 6. To Richard, two mansions in Poitou and half of its annual revenues. 7. To Geoﬀrey, half of the annual revenues of Brittany, provided that he promises to marry Constance, daughter of Conan IV; afterwards, he shall have its full revenues. 8. No son shall ever again demand from his father more than what he himself oﬀers them at his own pleasure. 9. Richard and Geoﬀrey have performed homage to Henry II.66 The treaty was conciliatory and demonstrates Henry II’s unfailing belief in the cohesiveness of his family, a trait that would doom him in the end. On the other hand, there is no doubt that Henry was victorious and could dictate his own terms. His vassals were restored their old lands but nothing else, and although the king increased the lands and revenues due to his sons, young Henry still did not get what he wanted—lordship over Anjou, Normandy, or England. Following the treaty Henry II sought out the lingering reminders of the rebellion against him, ﬁrst sending Richard and Geoﬀrey into Poitou and Brittany to destroy castles built during the conﬂict, then levying ﬁnes on clergy and laymen who had taken the opportunity to pluck stag out of the royal forest. Adulterine castles as well as those fortresses surrendered to Henry were destroyed across England.67 Henry also made a ﬁnal peace with William the Lion by agreeing to terms in the Treaty of Falaise in York on 1 December 1174. The charter conﬁrmed that William became the liegeman of Henry II and his son Henry; moreover, the Scottish barons, bishops, and all other clergy should do the same. William would no longer harbor fugitives or rebels in his lands, and the Church of Scotland owed

65 These include £1,000 annual revenue from England, the castle and county of Nottingham, the castle of Marlborough, £1,000 annual revenue from Normandy and two castles, and £1,000 annual revenue from Anjou, plus one castle each in Anjou, Touraine, and Maine. 66 Evidently, young Henry was willing to do homage to his father, but Henry II was unwilling to receive homage from another king. 67 Ymagines Historiarum, I: 398 and 404.

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obedience to the Church of England. Finally, William surrendered to Henry II the castles of Roxburgh, Berwick, Jedburgh, Stirling, and Edinburgh, as well as several hostages as surety, including Earls Duncan and Waltheof and his brother David of Huntingdon. These were rather severe terms that would last until Henry’s death, and he faced no more rebellions from Scotland for the remainder of his reign.68 As a consequence of these treaties, Henry II enjoyed what can only be called a tranquil year of governance in 1175. He spent his time rebuilding relationships with his bishops of England, who, following the death of Becket and the ensuing rebellions, had experienced a great deal of inﬁghting amongst themselves. The king worked to restore peace between Roger of York and Becket’s replacement, Richard of Canterbury (d. 1184). Ireland also became a point of focus: Henry granted the bishopric of Waterford to an Irishman, Augustinus Ua Selbaig (d. 1182), and the kingdom of Connaught to Roderic in the Treaty of Windsor on 6 October.69 Ironically, it was now his old rivals who found themselves engulfed by rebellion. In August, Philip of Flanders, in some ways the cruelest rebel of them all, was rewarded with an uprising of his own. After accusing Walter de Fontaines of having relations with his countess, Philip ordered him beaten with clubs, hung upside down in a sewer, and suﬀocated to death. In response, the sons of Walter fortiﬁed their castles in rebellion and ravaged the Count’s lands, a ﬁtting repercussion of Philip’s role in the uprisings of 1173 and 1174.70

68 Chronica, I: 72 and 79–82; Torigini, 267–8; Ymagines Historiarum, I: 396–7. For the Treaty of Falaise, see Anglo-Scottish Relations, 1174–1328: Some Selected Documents, ed. and trans. E. L. G. Stones (Reprint, Oxford, 1970), 2–11. Many of these concessions were cancelled in 1189 under Richard I; see R. R. Davies, Domination and Conquest: The Experience of Scotland and Wales 1100–1300 (Cambridge, 1990), 94. 69 Chronica, II: 84–5. 70 Chronica, II: 402; Ymagines Historiarum, I: 402.

CHAPTER SEVEN

CONCLUSION: HENRY THE SOLDIER Henry II won his vast domains through a variety of means. By 1154, he was lord over England, Anjou, and Normandy, bringing the latter back to the English crown after Stephen had essentially lost it. While his marriage to Eleanor gave him Aquitaine, he was forced to ﬁght for personal control over Poitou, Bordeaux, Gascony, and other lands south of the Loire River. He held Touraine by virtue of his homage to the count of Blois and also had a claim to Maine, which was said to have been granted to the count of Anjou by Hugh Capet.1 Henry received the county of Nantes in 1158, became duke of Brittany in 1166, and led a series of campaigns into both Berry, to the east of Touraine, and the Vexin. With the Atlantic coast under the rule of one man, trade increased between England and the Continent and Gascon wine ﬂagons became common sights in the Isles.2 Henry had ambitions there as well: through three campaigns he received the homage of the princes in Wales, in 1157 King Malcolm IV (1153–1165) of the Scots paid him homage for lands in the north, and in 1171 Henry launched the ﬁrst English expedition to Ireland. In the West only the Holy Roman Empire was comparable in size and wealth, but the Plantagenet certainly had a more successful military career than his counterpart Frederick Barbarossa (1152–1190). In comparison, the kingdom of France was quite small, and it would not be until after Henry’s death that the Capetians managed to retake most of the western Continent.3 Both Louis VII and Philip II were forced to settle for Henry’s homage, which by the later twelfth century was little more than a symbolic

1 Norgate, England under the Angevin Kings, I: 440–41 and 140–2; see also the more recent R. E. Barton, Lordship in the County of Maine, c. 890–1160 (Woodbridge, 2004), 32 and 120. 2 J. Dunbabin, France in the Making, 843–1180, 2nd ed. (Oxford, 2000), 346–7. 3 One contrary view holds that the revenues of Louis VII were greater than all of Henry II’s domains combined; see J. F. Benton, “The Revenue of Louis VII,” Speculum 42 (1967): 84–91, esp. 91.

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gesture, and could only look with perhaps a bit of envy upon what has been dubbed by some modern historians the Angevin Empire. The term ‘Angevin Empire’ is a matter of great debate.4 The problem, as Henry’s ﬁnest biographer W. L. Warren points out, is that the term implies not only a series of provinces and kingdoms welded together into a uniﬁed whole but also that Henry himself thought of his lands in such terms. The weld holding the lands together, argues Warren, was little more than Henry’s feudal lordship, and once he was dead fragmentation ensued. Were the collected lands an Empire of Britain; was Henry a king or an emperor? From early on, Charles Haskins attacked the notion of the latter by pointing out that no one thought of Henry as an emperor and his lands in no way resemble any other Western empire in history; likewise, in the medieval documents no one ever employed the phrase ‘Angevin Empire.’ Therefore, the term is an invention of historians that bears little resemblance to the truth. Haskins was only partially correct in his analysis. There is indeed no evidence that Henry thought of himself as an emperor—the titles on his Great Seal read “REX ANGLORUM” and “DUX NORM(annorum et) AQUIT(anorum) et COM(es) ANDEG(avorum).”5 He is referred to by these titles in sources as well, and none of his charter salutations refer to an empire. Yet something led the poet to remark in La Chronique de Jordan Fantosme: “he is the most honourable and the most victorious king who ever was anywhere on earth since the time of Moses, save only Charlemagne.”6 Fantosme speciﬁcally calls Henry a king, but his example operates metaphorically by stirring memories of the Carolingian king who was, by virtue of his great deeds and faith, crowned emperor by Pope Leo III in 800.7 4 Frank Barlow considers the ‘Empire’ to have been present after Henry’s taking of Brittany in 1166; see The Feudal Kingdom of England, 275. See also the interesting essay by R. V. Turner, “The Problem of Survival for the ‘Angevin Empire’: Henry II’s and his Sons’ Vision versus Late Twelfth-Century Realities,” AHR 100 (1995): 78–96. 5 Warren, Henry II, 228–9; C. H. Haskins, The Normans in European History (New York, 1915), 86–7. For the Great Seal, see Warren’s title page. 6 Fantosme, 10: “Seignurs, en la meie fei, merveille est mult grant / Pur quei li suen demeine le vunt si demenant, / Le plus honurable e le plus cunquerant / Que fust en nule terre puis le tens Moysant, / Fors sulement li reis Charle, ki poeste fu grant / Par les dudze cumpaignuns, Olivier e Rodlant.” 7 Martin Aurell has lately argued that contemporaries did think the Plantagenet lands constituted an empire; see M. Aurell, L’empire des Plantagenêt, 1154–1224 (Paris, 2003), 11.

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Despite its absence in the medieval documents, one might counter that ‘Angevin Empire’ nonetheless serves a referential utility by speaking of Henry’s vast domains as a whole. In this way the term, while a modern construction, remains a useful geographical notion for historians. Still, Richard Mortimer argues that the term is misleading not because it has no provenance but because it is wholly inaccurate. Henry’s various governments were replicated not integrated, and in fact there was little connection, political, social, or otherwise, between Normandy, Poitou, and Aquitaine.8 Mortimer might have gone even further, for Henry also saw little need to dominate the local lords in Maine and change their conventions, so long as they obeyed his will.9 It is diﬃcult, however, to consistently argue the lack of political connections between the counties and duchies when we move beyond the control of Henry himself. Aquitaine, it is true, was initially connected to England (and thus Normandy) through Eleanor of Aquitaine, but over time Henry would launch campaigns into the south to assert his own, personal lordship. He gave control of the land to his son Richard in time, which then created a blood tie between the south and the Angevins. Despite his own preference for living in Aquitaine and dominating the lords of Poitou, Richard would vigorously ﬁght to control his full territorial inheritance after returning from the Third Crusade in 1194 only to have John lose most of it in 1204 and 1205. In the 1260 Treaty of Paris under Henry III (1216–1272), England ﬁnally surrendered its claim to Normandy and the surrounding provinces and the great legacy of William the Conqueror and Henry II came to an end. While England fought for and regained substantial continental territories during the Hundred Years War, never again during the Middle Ages would it have meaningful governmental control over so much land. Accordingly, A. L. Poole saw the feudal ties to be strong enough to constitute an empire, ﬂeeting as it was, and he was followed by other notable historians of the period.10 John Le Patourel found a rational three-tiered system of government used to govern the major units of England, Normandy, Anjou, Brittany, and Aquitaine in a

8 9 10

318.

R. Mortimer, Angevin England, 1154–1258 (Oxford, 1994), 235. Barton, Lordship in the County of Maine, 213. A. L. Poole, Domesday Book to Magna Carta, 1087–1216, 2nd ed. (Oxford, 1955),

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similar fashion. More forcefully, he stresses the importance of inheritance: each Angevin realm was handed down as a coherent domain by its counts, which suggests that each man conceived of a uniﬁed kingdom under one rule. This structural unity renders the year 1154 at least as important as 1066. Le Patourel’s analysis is expanded by Bernard Bachrach’s argument that Henry rejected the old AngloNorman model of Henry I and accepted an Angevin idea of empire that had been handed down through the counts of Anjou since Geoﬀrey Greymantle (960–987).11 In the end, neither contention seems mutually exclusive: we can acknowledge that the ‘Angevin Empire’ is a creation of scholarship while simultaneously agreeing that it is geographically and politically descriptive, in some fashion, of Henry II’s lands. Did Henry himself dream of building an empire? The evidence suggests that he was putting together a realm of ﬁnite proportions. After gaining Nantes, Brittany, and Ireland his expansionary goals seem to have ended. The only areas he repeatedly tried to gain after the Great Revolt were Berry and the Vexin. The latter he saw as a natural periphery of Normandy, while the former was claimed through betrothal negotiations and later the conduct of warfare. Yet Henry did not try to push his authority further. He never tried to annex Wales and never led an army into Scotland. Flanders also escaped his clutches, despite being a frequent source of hostility; Philip of Alsace, for example, surely invited invasion for all his scheming with Henry’s sons. Instead, in all three areas Henry seemed satisﬁed to have the fealty of the relevant princes and wealthy landowners. His hesitation may have been due to political disputes within England such as the Becket aﬀair or ﬁnancial considerations. If that were so, however, he certainly was in a powerful enough position to exert his will after the Great Revolt and probably could have dictated harsher terms upon his defeated enemies. Unlike later kings such as Edward I, Henry had no cause to claim Flanders or Scotland as belonging to England or Normandy, so he did not try to conquer

11 J. Le Patourel, “The Plantagenet Domains,” History 50 (1965): 296–8; idem, “Angevin Successors and the Angevin Empire,” in Feudal Empires Norman and Plantagenet (London, 1984), 16–7; idem, “The Norman Conquest, 1066, 1106, 1154?” ANS 1 (1978): 119–20; B. S. Bachrach, “The Idea of the Angevin Empire,” Albion 10 (1978): 293–9.

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them. If he was indeed building an empire it was to be a legal one in which land was claimed in the name of rights, not might.12 As a means of conclusion, it is useful to go beyond Henry II’s accomplishments as a conqueror and produce a sketch of him as a soldier and commander of men. Given the scholarly opinion of his military exploits, this necessarily involves some rehabilitation, which seems to be the hallmark of modern English biography. Renewed defenses of the reigns of William Rufus, King John, Henry VI (1422–61, 1470–71), and especially Richard III (1483–1485) have emerged in the last half century.13 We need not go to such extraordinary lengths here, for the legacy of Henry II (outside of the Becket aﬀair, perhaps) is on the whole quite positive. He is widely regarded as one of the strongest rulers in English history, a dominating personality, and founder of the common law.14 My goal in this book has been to examine Henry’s legacy as a military commander. But what is the archetypal warrior king? Michael Prestwich has observed that there is no single model for a successful commander. Instead, he lists what seem to be the key ingredients for success in warfare, including charisma, boldness in decision-making, and strategic and tactical awareness. The best commanders were ready to display personal courage by taking part in battle themselves.15 On the basis of these and other related criteria, Richard the Lionheart has most frequently been mentioned as the quintessential

12 Although his argument is too inﬂexible, the theory that all medieval wars were fought over ‘rights’ was advanced by William Stubbs early on: “medieval wars are, as a rule, wars of rights.” See “On the Characteristic Diﬀerences between Medieval and Modern History (April 15, 1880),” in Seventeen Lectures, 217–23. 13 F. Barlow, William Rufus (Reprint, New Haven, 2000), xv; Warren, King John, xiv and 256–7; R. A. Griﬃths, The Reign of Henry VI, 2nd ed. (Stroud, 1998), xxv. On Richard III, see not only C. Ross, Richard III (Berkeley, 1981), li–lii; but also the members of the 1924 Fellowship of the White Boar online at The Richard III Society, ed. N. Trump, 6 April 2006 . John’s military reputation remains mired in debate; see J. Bradbury, “Philip Augustus and King John: Personality and History,” in King John: New Interpretations, 349. 14 The extent and nature of his innovations have come under scrutiny, but few can deny his inﬂuence in legal matters; see M. T. Clanchy, England and its Rulers, 1066–1272, 2nd ed. (Oxford, 1998), 104–7; and B. Lyon, “Henry II: a Non-Victorian Interpretation,” in Documenting the Past: Essays in Medieval History presented to George Peddy Cuttino, eds. J. S. Hamilton and P. J. Bradley (Woodbridge, 1989), 25. As for Becket, he has very recently been upheld as the moral victor in his dispute with Henry; see A. Duggan, Thomas Becket (London and New York, 2004). 15 Prestwich, Armies and Warfare, 181–2.

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warrior king in our period and an outstanding leader of men. It is clear that Henry’s achievements in warfare have been overshadowed by the accomplishments of his son. Gillingham has noted, “Whereas Richard is seen as the archetypal warrior king, rex bellicosus, his father— who ‘despised violence and hated war’—is regarded as a ruler devoted to the arts of peaceful government.”16 J. O. Prestwich considered Richard a professional soldier who managed his soldiers well and demonstrated personal skill in battle. By comparison, Henry II casts a poor shadow: John Beeler admitted only that the king was “at least adequate,” hardly a ringing endorsement of his military abilities.17 Even so, Gillingham continues by arguing, contrary to widelyheld beliefs, that it was Henry and not Richard who was the more bellicose and aggressive ruler in terms of expansion and political dominance.18 Gillingham does not extend his virtues to Henry’s career as a soldier and general, and perhaps now is the time to do so. A straight comparison between Henry II and Richard I, however, is well-nigh impossible because Richard’s legacy beneﬁts from superior source material. Most of the key witnesses from the days of Henry II lived on through nearly all of Richard’s reign: Roger of Howden, William of Newburgh, Ralph Diceto, and Gerald of Wales all lived until at least 1199. These writers all began their major works late in Henry’s reign and improved their craft after he died. Moreover, several new writers recorded Richard’s military exploits during the Third Crusade. Besides the chronicles of Ambroise, Richard of Devizes, and Geoﬀrey of Vinsauf, no fewer than three separate Muslim accounts detail his exploits in the war against Saladin.19 The extra materials are qualitatively superior, moreover, because they oﬀer speciﬁc details of his generalship. There are vivid illustrations

16 J. Gillingham, “Conquering Kings: some Twelfth-Century Reﬂections on Henry II and Richard I,” in Warriors and Churchmen in the High Middle Ages: Essays presented to Karl Leyser, ed. T. Reuter (London, 1992), 163. 17 Beeler, Warfare in England, 4. See the endorsements of Richard in France, Western Warfare, 142–3; Verbruggen, Art of Warfare, 279; and J. O. Prestwich, “Richard Coeur de Lion: Rex Bellicosus,” in Richard Coeur de Lion in History and Myth, ed. J. L. Nelson (London, 1992), 11–15. 18 Gillingham, “Conquering Kings,” 164. 19 See Chronicles of the crusades, being contemporary narratives of the crusades of Richard Cœr de Lion, by Richard of Devizes and Geoﬀrey de Vinsauf; and of the crusade of St. Louis by Lord John de Joinville, ed. and trans. J. A. Giles (London, 1882). On the Muslim accounts of Imad al-Din, Baha al-Din, and Ibn al-Athir, see Gillingham, Richard I, 15–23.

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of his military planning and leadership decisions, as well as his personal involvement in combat during such decisive battles as Arsuf in 1192. This diﬀerence in detail is of crucial importance. Richard’s strategic and tactical decisions are often laid out in full view, while we struggle vainly to discern how Henry arrayed his forces on the ﬁeld or attacked speciﬁc castles. R. C. Smail has cautioned against literal readings of these descriptions, but at least they are available for interpretation. Were we to possess such descriptions of Henry in wartime our image of him would likely be quite diﬀerent.20 A fairer means of comparison is therefore an examination of each man’s general record in war. Richard left behind a solid record of military achievement when he died. Although he was never able to fully subdue Aquitaine, he did win many notable victories in the South. He built a number of castles, most famous among them the fortress of Château-Gaillard. He was personally adept at combat and a master of the siege. In this regard, he superseded his father in terms of scale, for the siege and capture of Acre was a feat unequalled in scope. His wars in the east add to his reputation: the deployment of a massive ﬂeet from Messina and the manipulation of naval resources, the conquest of Cypress, and the victory at Arsuf while riding alongside the Hospitallers are the major examples. By comparison, Henry never went on crusade and there is little evidence pertaining to his personal abilities in combat. The descriptions of his sieges are often quite vague. He has also been seen as indecisive and too quick to settle dispute by way of treaty, lacking the vindictiveness needed to properly punish his enemies.21 The lack of a large, set-piece, decisive battle continues to daunt his legacy as well. In other regards, however, he compares quite well with Richard. Dover Castle is certainly as impressive an accomplishment as ChâteauGaillard, and, despite the lack of speciﬁc details, he was at least as adept at besieging castles and fortiﬁed towns and probably passed his knowledge down to Richard. In a strict numerical comparison Henry was more successful than his son. By his death in 1199, Richard was still ﬁghting to retain Aquitaine while Henry by and

20

Smail, Crusading Warfare, 165–6. See H. Summerson, “Kingship, Government, and Political Life, c. 1160–c. 1280,” in The Twelfth and Thirteenth Centuries, 1066–c. 1280, ed. B. Harvey (Oxford, 2001), 214; who repeats the traditional view as laid out by J. H. Ramsay, The Angevin Empire or the Three Reigns of Henry II, Richard I, and John (London, 1903), 247. 21

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large subdued the area between 1159 and the later 1160s. And while Henry failed to capture Toulouse Richard never took Jerusalem, and in both cases the commanders decided to retire without testing the respective defenses. Few would deny that Richard’s activities in the east were successful, even without the taking of the Holy City, and perhaps we can read Henry’s 1159 campaign in the South in the same manner. Henry clearly had a mind for the conduct of warfare. As early as 1149 he was deploying reconnaissance missions and leading campaigns. He could be creative in his strategy, attacking fortresses in order to lure his enemies into ﬁeld actions and capturing castles through guile. After his coronation, Henry stepped up his military pursuits and remained an active commander, marching on campaigns in twenty-three of his thirty-four regnal years. Logistically, he eﬃciently shipped entire armies across the seas without possessing a royal navy, and he was able to maintain large armies on the Continent for long periods of time. He seems to have been overly concerned with the ability to raise soldiers in a hurry: his use of scutage was much more extensive than his predecessors, and the assizes of 1181 indicate a continuing attentiveness to military organization. So far as is apparent, there were only four moments in which Henry was unable to prod his soldiers into conﬂict, and all occurred during between 1151 and 1153: Arques, Torigini, Malmesbury, and Wallingford. Thereafter, there is no record of his army refusing to ﬁght, and as the Battle of Dol in 1173 demonstrates, his men and even mercenaries were trustworthy enough to ﬁght at the king’s command but in his absence. Once on the march, Henry was an imposing foe and rarely defeated. Outside of his losses at Ceiriog in 1165 and Le Mans in 1189, he remained consistently victorious in every campaign he fought. A keen politician, Henry was also quick to turn diplomatic advantages into military opportunities. In September 1177, Louis VII’s vulnerability after the Great Revolt led to the Treaty of Ivry and Henry’s march into Berry and Poitou, capture of Châteauroux, and the solidiﬁcation of his rule over Limoges. Henry could also be prudent: in 1168, he countered Matthew of Boulogne’s overtures of invasion by delegating the defense of England to Richard de Lucy. As a result, the king remained in position to counter the Breton rebellion led by Eudo de Porhoët. His devastating campaign of 1168 demonstrates his eﬃcient campaign methods. Henry spent the year

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defeating the counts of Angoulême and Lusignan in Poitou and destroying their castles, besieging and taking four castles in Brittany, and then capturing Louis’ castle Beaumont-sur-Oise. He also fought in Normandy, burned forty towns in Le Vimeu, ravaged Perche, and destroyed the castles of Brezolles and Châteauneuf. Over the course of the campaign Henry suﬀered but one setback when Louis ﬁred the town of Chênebrun, and that was quickly avenged when he caught and defeated the French rearguard as they withdrew. An advantageous treaty in 1169 at Montmirail rewarded the totality of his eﬀorts. Henry II also possessed character traits that lent themselves to both soldiery and military command.22 There are few references to his personal involvement in combat, but he did ride into the Coleshill Wood in 1157, displaying courage and a willingness to ﬁght alongside his men. Roger of Howden called him an “adroit and formidable man at arms”; given that Howden often traveled with the king, this is a valuable insight that indicates Henry’s prowess as a warrior.23 The king demonstrated concern for his soldiers’ well-being by moving his army to the safety of the Berwyn hills in 1165 and then back to England once he became unable to supply them properly. Of magnanimity Henry had a decent record, and his generosity was noted by no less a critic than Gerald of Wales, who admitted that the king was giving to strangers, fed the hungry, was a liberal almsgiver, and a ﬁne administrator of justice for the downtrodden.24 This sense of charity did not extend to his relations with the church, however, with whom he was often grasping and impatient. Piety is the most obvious area in which Henry can be found wanting. He was known to have sat through Masses impatiently, had poor relations with Rome and the English clergy as a result of the Becket aﬀair, and he was prone to allowing ecclesiastical vacancies. Still, to Walter Map the king was an aﬀable fellow, moderate, generous, and, excepting frequent bursts of rage, patient when dealing with subordinates. That patience often got the best of him, as evidenced by his refusal to deﬁnitively punish his sons for their rebellious acts against him.25

22 On the nature of political leadership in general, see J. E. A. Joliﬀe, Angevin Kingship (New York, 1955). 23 Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi, II: xxxiii. 24 Expugnatio, 302–3. 25 De Nugis Curialium, 484–7. On the other hand, one might wonder just how

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It also led him to elaborate and continuing treaty negotiations with the French when a strong military campaign may have forced issues more clearly and quickly. An enduring reputation as a man prone to talking rather than ﬁghting has been the result. One of the most famous images of an English warrior king is Stephen at the Battle of Lincoln in 1141. Surrounded by enemies, he displayed enormous valor by defending himself, ﬁrst with a sword and then an axe, slashing and chopping until he could ﬁght no more.26 There is no such image of Henry II to be found in any of the written or pictorial evidence from his lifetime, and there are precious few accounts of the king marching into the fray and risking his own life alongside his men. Yet the absence of explicit descriptions should not prevent us from seeing Henry as a soldier as well as a general. At Malmesbury, Wallingford, Verneuil, and Châteauroux he arrayed his men for war and stood by their side. In Wales he was attacked by guerilla skirmishers, knocked from his horse, and barely escaped alive. He was present at numerous sieges and relief actions. He narrowly avoided two arrows at Limoges in 1183.27 Were that there were better-detailed examples of his soldiery, but the lack of evidence is perhaps the point. Richard and Stephen did great deeds in battle because they were the sort of leaders who needed to motivate their men through personal action. When the Hospitallers charged at Arsuf, Richard I was forced to order a general charge and enter the battle personally. Henry, on the other hand, often had no need to risk his life. As Vegetius noted, “good generals never engage in a general engagement except on some advantageous occasion, or under great necessity.”28 Henry’s knights and mercenaries were reliable enough to ﬁght without him, an image reminiscent of the Edward III (1327–1377) at the Battle of Crécy, who looked on from a windmill while the Black Prince won his spurs. In the context of twelfth-century warfare, Henry II was an extraordinarily successful leader. His problems were as large as his empire: the late anarchy of Stephen’s reign, the Great Revolt, the Becket important piety is for successful leadership when hiring and dispatching groups of Brabanters (outlawed by the Third Lateran Council) to attack rebels and besiege castles . . . 26 Historia Anglorum, IV: 13–18. 27 Sixteen years later, his son Richard took a crossbow bolt in the shoulder at Chalus-Chabrol, a castle not far to the south of Limoges. 28 De re militari, III: 26.

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aﬀair, the rebellions of the Welsh and his own family, and the persistent gambits of the French kings—all of these constituted serious threats to his lordship. Yet over the course of thirty-four years Henry dealt with all of these problems while simultaneously expanding his domains. He was never entirely successful in his strategic pursuits. His trust in family loyalty was his weakness, and an inability to bring his enemies to battle ultimately checked his ability to dominate them fully. When hostilities did commence, however, Henry was usually the victor, an enduring testament to his prowess in the ways of war.

1

Schlight, Monarchs and Mercenaries, 79.

Gloucestershire York/Devon Normandy Vexin/Dreux/Anjou Wiltshire Welsh March/Midlands

1147: 1149: 1151: 1152: 1153: 1153:

April Summer Spring – August Summer Jan. – Feb. Spring – August

Location(s)

Date

Stephen Eustace of Boulogne Louis VII and Eustace Louis VII; Geoﬀrey (brother) Stephen and Eustace Stephen; royal castellans

Principal Opponent(s)

Besieges Montsoreau Besieges Malmesbury Captures Tutbury; relieves Wallingford

Skirmishes at Crickdale Relieves of Devizes

Signiﬁcant Event(s)

The best previous table on Henry II’s campaigns is that provided by John Schlight in 1968, which lists a total of fourteen campaigns during Henry’s regnal years.1 There are several omissions in Schlight’s list. First, he did not include Henry’s campaigns as knight and then duke of Normandy pre-1154. Second, while he correlated many of the campaigns with their notable sieges he does not mention any of Henry’s battles, acquisitions of territory, or political gains such as favorable treaties. Third, Schlight missed several campaigns completely, the most glaring example being the 1157 march into Wales. The result is an inadequate outline of Henry’s military career. I have tried here to assemble a more complete list of Henry’s campaigns both before and after 1154, include the identities of his opponents, geographical locations, and the notable sieges, battles, skirmishes, and other developments that occurred as a direct result of his warfare.

HENRY PLANTAGENET’S MILITARY CAMPAIGNS

APPENDIX 1

Blois/Gascony

Gower/Carmarthen Shropshire/Oswestry Maine Auvergne/Normandy Brittany Poitou/Brittany/Flanders

1160: Fall 1161

1163: 1165: 1166: 1167: 1167: 1168:

Poitou/Vexin

Berry Ireland Normandy/Brittany

1169: March

1170: November 1171: October 1173: June – Aug.

April August Spring – Summer Spring – Summer Aug. – Oct. Jan. – Aug.

Gwynedd Deheubarth Toulouse/Vexin

1157: Summer 1158: Summer 1159: June – Sept.

Louis VII; Philip of Flanders; Robert of Leicester; Henry, Geoﬀrey, and Richard (sons)

Louis VII and Theobald of Blois

Rhys ap Deheubarth Owain and Rhys William Talvas; Ralph de Fougères William VIII; Louis VII Eudo de Porhoët Louis VII; Aldebert of March; William de Angoulême; Geoﬀrey de Lusignan; Eudo de Porhoët William of Angoulême

Theobald of Blois; Louis VII

Owain ap Gwynedd Rhys ap Deheubarth Raymond V; Louis VII

Normandy/Aquitaine Louis VII; Richard of Gloucester York/Hereford/Gloucester William le Gros; Hugh Mortimer Poitou/Touraine/Nantes Geoﬀrey (brother)

1154: Summer – Fall 1155: Summer 1156: Spring

Principal Opponent(s)

Location(s)

Date

Appendix 1 (cont.)

Skirmish at Verneuil; Battle of Dol

Captures Lusignan; destroys Château-Josselin; skirmish at Chênebrun Acquires Montmirail; digs Fossés-le-Roi

Vale of Ceiriog Destroys Fougères Castle Destroys Chaumont

Seizes Cahors, Rochefort, Epernon, and Montfort Captures Chaumont and Castillion

Besieges Bridgnorth Castle Seizes of Mirebeau, Chinon, Loudon Battle of Coleshill Wood

Signiﬁcant Event(s)

234 appendix 1

1184: 1186: 1187: 1187: 1188: 1189:

July Summer Spring September Summer Summer

Rhys of Deheubarth Roland ﬁtz Uhtred Philip II Harvey de Leuns Philip II Philip II and Richard (son)

Worcester Galloway Berry Brittany Berry/Vexin Touraine

1174: Aug. – Sept.

1177: August 1177: Oct. – Dec. 1183: May

Touraine Buchard de Lavardin Anjou/Maine/Poitou Huntingdon/Framlingham Hugh Bigod; David of Huntingdon Rouen Louis VII; Philip of Flanders; sons; other rebels Vexin Waleran de Ivry Berry/Limousin Louis VII Limoges Henry and Geoﬀrey (sons)

1173: Nov. – Dec. 1174: April – June 1174: July

Non-action at Châteauroux Besieges Montrelais Castle Enters Philip’s demesne Flees Tours; death of Henry II (6 July)

Captures Châteauroux Death of young Henry (11 June)

Victory enables the Treaty of Mont Louis

Captures Vendôme Captures Ancenis

henry plantagenet ’s military campaigns 235

APPENDIX 2

LAUDABILITER J. H. Round called the debate over Laudabiliter “one of the hottest historical controversies that this generation has known.”1 The bull would today be a non-issue was it not for Henry II’s eventual conquest of Ireland sixteen years later in 1171. Since Henry’s expedition constituted the ﬁrst foray of the English crown into Ireland, the legitimacy of Laudabiliter has gained considerable attention in the last century. Some have argued that the bull was a medieval forgery, born out of hearsay, or perhaps penned by someone other than Hadrian IV. Because no copy of the bull itself survives, what is essentially at issue is the credibility of those authors who recorded its text Laudabiliter in their works.2 Laudabiliter granted Henry reforming privileges over the Irish Church in order to “expound the truth of the Christian faith to ignorant and barbarous peoples.”3 Attempts to Christianize ‘barbaric’ areas were common in the period after the First Crusade, with reforming eﬀorts of both a religious and a military nature directed at other fringe areas such as the Baltic region.4 Henry thought at ﬁrst to present Ireland to his brother William as a ﬁef but never made the trip. The core argument for Hadrian’s approval of an Irish invasion is given in John of Salisbury’s Metalogicon, the lynchpin for the legality of Henry’s conquest in 1171: It was in acquiescence to my petitions that Adrian granted and entrusted Ireland to the illustrious king of the English, Henry II, to be possessed by him and his heirs, as the papal letters still give evidence. This was by virtue of the fact that all islands are said to belong to the Roman Church, by an ancient right, based on the Donation of Constantine,

1

Round, Commune of London, 171. See M. Richter, “The First Century of Anglo-Irish Relations,” History 59 (1974): 195–210. 3 EHD, 776. 4 E. Christiansen, The Northern Crusades: the Baltic Frontier and the Catholic Frontier, 1100 –1525 (Minneapolis, 1980), 48–57. 2

238

appendix 2 who established and conceded this privilege. By me [Pope] Adrian dispatched a golden ring, set with a magniﬁcent emerald, whereby he invested [our] Henry II with the authority to rule Ireland.5

It is clear that John of Salisbury did indeed travel to Rome as part of Henry’s ﬁrst embassy to Pope Hadrian.6 John’s familiarity with papal procedures is evident in his Historia Pontiﬁcalis, and a letter from John to Peter, abbot of Celle, states that John returned from Rome before 1156.7 The suggestion has been made that John perhaps traveled to represent the concerns of Canterbury, which fought to maintain its primacy over the four Irish archbishoprics, and therein lays the suspicion of tampering.8 Perhaps Henry also sought to capitalize on his common ground with the only English pope, someone likely to accommodate his ambitions. Hadrian and Henry both took their positions in 1154, and the idea of two powerful contemporaries negotiating ecclesiastical reform is not so shocking; that the prominent John of Salisbury should broker the agreement and record it in writing is even less so. Metalogicon was published in 1159, soon after John’s disgrace before Henry in 1156–1157, and one wonders why he would have been so generous to the king if his claim were not true.9 There is also no evidence of palaeological interpolation of the passage into the surviving manuscripts of the Metalogicon.10 Despite having much to commend his trustworthiness, John of Salisbury ultimately neglected to copy the text of Laudabiliter itself. The copies of the bull at our disposal are found in Gerald of Wales’ Expugnatio Hibernica and Ralph Diceto’s Ymagines Historiarum, both composed several decades later.11 Giraldus goes a step further than Diceto and corroborates John of Salisbury’s story exactly. The bull com-

5

Metalogicon, 274–5. Other notable members of the embassy were the bishops of Evreux, Lisieux and Le Mans, and the abbot of St. Albans; see E. A. D’Alton, History of Ireland, I: 236. 7 The Letters of John of Salisbury, Volume One, no. 31. 8 Bartlett, Norman and Angevin Kings, 100. 9 Letters of John of Salisbury, Volume One, 257–8. 10 Watt, Church in Medieval Ireland, 29–32; Orpen concurs in Ireland under the Normans, I: 291. 11 Expugnatio, 315–19; Ymagines Historiarum, I: 300–1. On Gerald’s account, see J. Gillingham, “The English Invasion of Ireland,” in The English in the Twelfth Century, 145–60. 6

LAUDABILITER

239

mends Henry’s aspirations, encourages him to reform the scandalous activities of the Irish Church, and even mentions the golden ring.12 Yet Gerald probably read Metalogicon for himself and may have copied its text afterwards. Notably, in three separate letters congratulating Henry on his victory in Ireland, Alexander III fails to even mention Laudabiliter, and Gerald himself neglected to publish these letters in the Expugnatio Hibernica.13 His lack of attention is not so suspicious, however, because Gerald had little cause to invent a justiﬁcation for Henry’s invasion and for the two men did not even meet until 1184, only four years before its publication. All of Gerald’s remarks pertaining to the conquest of Ireland and Henry’s character were written and published after 1187, sixteen years after Henry’s expedition to Ireland and 32 years after the delivery of Laudabiliter to the English court. Nevertheless, Gerald’s bull is today generally believed to be authentic.14 As for the inherent legitimacy Laudabiliter, that faced a windstorm of scholarly attacks from very early on. In the seventeenth century the Irish royalists Stephen White and John Lynch denounced the bull as a forgery.15 Later studies, primarily by Irish scholars, claimed that Hadrian IV did not have the power to grant lands to secular lords, but the Donation of Constantine was so widely accepted in the twelfth century that this argument seems spurious. Today, no one can profess to know for sure, but although the evidence in Laudabiliter’s favor is slight there is no hard evidence to prove that the accounts were either forged or outright lies.16 Unless new evidence comes to light, it appers that the mystery will remain unsolved.

12 Barlow, Feudal Kingdom of England, 239; R. Frame, Colonial Ireland, 1169–1369 (Dublin, 1981), 4. 13 For Alexander’s letters, see Irish Historical Documents, 19–22; Calendar of Documents Relating to Ireland, I: 6–7; and Pontiﬁca Hibernica, Medieval Papal Chancery Documents Concerning Ireland, 640–1261, ed. M. P. Sheehy, 2 vols. (Dublin, 1962), I: 15–16. The letters may not have been available to Gerald; see Orpen, Ireland Under the Normans, I: 305. 14 Watt, Church in Medieval Ireland, 32. 15 Orpen, Ireland under the Normans, I: 287. 16 One of the more thorough attempts to discredit Laudabiliter as a mere student exercise is O. J. Thatcher, Studies Concerning Adrian IV, in The Decennial Publications, vol. 4 (Chicago, 1903), 153–83.

240

maps

Fig. 1: Major districts of England1

1 All maps courtesy of the University of Texas Libraries, The University of Texas, Austin. Modiﬁed by author.

maps

§

Fig. 2: France and its Neighbors

241

242

maps

Fig. 3: Henry II’s Continental Sieges, 1166–1168

maps

Fig. 4: Major Engagements during the Great Revolt

243

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INDEX Aaron of Lincoln 161 Abergavenny, castle 89 Adam de Port 113, 212 Adela of Champagne, wife of Louis VII 48, 80 n.146, 81–82, 84, 87, 89, 162 Adela, sister of k. Henry I 3–4 Adelard of Bath 5 Ademar, c. Angoulême 95–96 Aesse, castle 77 Æthelﬂæd, q. England 117 Æthelstan, k. England 117 Agen 152 Agnes, daughter of Louis VII 80 n.146 Aife, daughter of Diarmait Mac Murchada 70 Alan de Lascelles 113 Alan Trenchemer 161 Albert, c. La Marche 155 Albert, papal legate 73 Aldebert, c. March 190, 234 Alençon, castle 61, 199 Alexander III, pope 60, 66, 68–69, 73–75, 79, 170, 239 Alfonso VII, k. Castile 48 Alfonso VIII, k. Castile 77 Alfred the Great, k. England 1, 10, 117, 159, 171 Alice de Clare 139 Alice, daughter of Humbert of Maurienne 196 Alice, daughter of Louis VII and Constance 65, 79–80 Alice, daughter of Louis VII and Eleanor 61, 80 n.146, 94–95, 98–101, 155 Alnwick, castle 112, 215 Ambières, castle 61 Amboise 189, 196 Ambroise 95, 170, 226 Amiens 83 Amt, Emilie 137 Ancenis 212, 235 Andely 190 Angers 62, 94, 101 n.208, 127 ‘Angevin Empire’ 119, 127, 160, 182, 195, 198, 222–225 Anglesey 161

Anglo-Saxon Chronicle 12, 16, 30 Angoulême 229 Anketil Mallory, constable of Leicester 209, 212 Annals Cambriae 28 Annals of Boyle 30 Annals of Clonmacnoise 30, 164 Annals of Tigernach 30 Annals of Ulster 30, 164–165 Appleby, castle 203 Appleby, John 132 Archﬁnan, castle 90 Argentan 155 Argentan, keep 173 Arnulf, b. Lisieux 34 Arques 41, 57, 132, 152, 228 Arthur, son of Geoﬀrey, d. Brittany 2 n.1, 16, 93 Artois 81 Assize of Arms 83, 115–117, 160 Assize of Clarendon 63, 105 Assize of LeMans 115, 117–118 Assize of Northampton 77, 105 Augustinus Ua Selbaig, b. Waterford 219 Aumarle 200, 206, 156 Auvergne 234 Avranches 51, 73, 206 Azay 101 Bachrach, Bernard 13, 162, 224 Baldwin FitzGilbert 121 Baldwin IV, k. Jerusalem 167 Baldwin V, c. Hainaut 82, 145–146, 183, 196 n.6 Baldwin, ab. Canterbury 96 Baltics 237 Bamburgh 52, 213 Barbeaux, abbey 82 Barﬂeur 51, 94, 148, 156, 216 Barnstaple 40 Barrow, G. W. S. 32, 202 Basingwerk, castle 53 Bates, David 200 Battle of Arsuf 227, 230 Battle of Brémule 112, 147 Battle of Coleshill Wood 53, 138–140, 229, 234 Battle of Crécy 230

264

index

Battle of Dol 1, 21, 130, 144–145, 207, 211, 228, 234 Battle of Hastings 1–2, 104, 112, 145, 158 Battle of Hattin 168, 170 Battle of Lincoln 112, 121, 137, 145, 230 Battle of Malamort 155 n.89 Battle of Mansourah 147 Battle of Marathon 71 Battle of the Standard 112, 120, 137, 139 Battle of Tinchebrai 112 Battles of Lewes and Evesham 112 Bayeux 152 Bayeux Tapestry 158–159 Beaumont 187 Beaumont-sur-Oise 192, 229 Bécherel, castle 191 Bedford 150, 192 Belford 213 Beeler, John 9, 213, 226 Bellencombre, castle 46 ‘Benedict of Peterborough’ 18–19 Beowulf 3 Berengaria, sister of Sancho VI 77 Berkeley 149 Berkhampstead 66 Berkshire 114, 133, 136, 174 Bermondsey, priory 46 Bernard de Balliol 112–113, 201 n.17 Bertha, mother of Conan IV 62 Bertran de Born 110 Berwick, castle 209, 219 Berwick-on-Tweed 197 Berwyn hills 142, 229 Béziers 163 Blangeville 156 Blois 60, 188, 234 Bolsover, castle 185 Bonneville 212 Boumoulins 98 Bourges 69, 79–80, 97, 145, 192 Boussard, Jacques 122 Bradbury, Jim 9, 97, 132, 183, 205 Breisach, Ernst 13 Brenhinedd y Saesson 29 Breteuil, castle 206 Brezolles, castle 142, 229 Briac 191 Brian ﬁtz Count 185 Bridgnorth, castle 50, 186, 234 Bridgport 40, 131, 192

Brightwell, castle 43 n.20 Bristol 39, 43, 149 Brittany 62, 64 Brown, Elizabeth A. R. 107, 111 Brown, R. Allen 171, 181, 185 Brundage, James 94 n.189 Brut y Tywysogyon 29 Buchard de Lavardin 211, 235 Burgh, castle 203 Burghal Hidage 171 Bury-St. Edmund’s 46, 18, 209 Caddonlee 201 Cadwaladr, brother of Owain ap Gwynedd 139, 53 Cadwallon, son of Rhys ap Deheubarth 56, 141 Caen 85, 94 Caernarfon, castle 181 Cahors 59–60, 153, 234 Calixtus III, antipope 74 Campenni, castle 211 Canterbury 66, 81, 127 Canterbury, cathedral 215, 238 Capetians 199, 221 Carcassonne 58, 163 Carlisle 24, 37–38, 52, 91, 146, 178, 186, 197, 202, 214 Carmarthen 55, 234 Carpenter, David 151–152 Cartae Baronum 109 Castillion, castle 189, 234 Castles and fortiﬁcations 171–193 ‘adulterine’ 185 n.51, 218 castellans and castelleriae 103, 177 castle garrisons 177–179 castrum 171 destruction of 180–181, 185–187 fortiﬁed churches 176 fortiﬁed towns 173–174 Fossés-le-Roi 181, 234 French castles 175–176 hexagonal keeps 186 keep-and-bailey style 173 motte-and-bailey style 54, 172 rectangular keeps 191–192 ‘ringworks’ 172 shell-keeps 172, 175, 215 tower-keeps 172–173 Castres 155 Cavalry 103–113 ‘Age of Cavalry’ 106, 112 banneret 103

index cavalry charges 112–113 chivalry 110–111 dismounted cavalry 112 Cleobury 50 Chalus-Chabrol, castle 230 n.27 Champagne 176 Charlemagne 129, 222 Chartres 26, 101, 196 Château d’Amboise 101 Château de St. Georges 181 Château Loire 101 Château-Gaillard 227 Château-Josselin 191, 234 Châteauneuf 61, 142, 229 Château-neuf-sur-Epte 188 Châteauroux 80, 89, 93, 96–98, 145, 155–156, 228, 230, 235 Château-Gaillard 179, 181 Chatillon 97 Chaumont 63, 188, 234 Chaumont-sur-Epte 190, 193, 234 Chênebrun 142, 229, 234 Chepstow, castle 172 Chester 52, 138 Chevauchée 107 Chibnall, Marjorie 27 Chinon 41, 50–51, 94, 149, 181, 189, 196, 234 Chrétien de Troyes 35 Christian O’Connarchy 72 Chronicle of Battle Abbey 195 Chronicle of Holyrood 29 Chronicle of Ireland 30 Chronicle of Melrose 19, 29, 164 Chronicle of Peterborough 115 Chronicle of Ramsey 18 Chronicon Sancti Sergii Andegavensis 17 Clairvaux, castle 85 Clausewitz, Carl von 125 Clement III, pope 99 Cleobury, castle 186 Cluny 186 Compromise of Avranches 166, 170 Conan IV, d. Brittany 51, 62, 189 Conan, son of Owain ap Gwynedd 56, 139 Connaught 219 Conquête d’Irlande 36 Conrad III, emperor 166 Constance of Castile, wife of Louis VII 48, 56, 80 n.146 Constance, daughter of Conan IV 208, 218

265

Constance, d. Brittany 93 Constance, sister of Louis VII 41, 58 Constitutions of Clarendon 66, 208 Cork 74–75 Corwen 141 Coulson, Charles 185 Council of Northampton 66 Council of Westminster 66 Council of Woodstock 55, 66 Courtly literature 34–36, 111 chanson de geste 110 Coventry 150 Crêcy 84 Crickdale 6, 233 Croch 70, 164 Crouch, David 39, 47, 133, 137, 150 Crowmarsh, castle 43, 45, 136, 184 Crusades 158, 184 Battle of Arsuf 227, 230 Battle of Hattin 168, 170 Battle of Mansourah 147 Church of the Holy Sepulchre 167 crucesignati 73, 167, 170 Crusader kingdoms 168 crusading taxes 63, 90, 166–169, 189 First Crusade 237 Heraclius, patriarch of Jerusalem 90, 129, 167–168 Jerusalem 73, 97, 100, 166–168, 170, 228 Knights Hospitaller 25, 167, 227, 230 Knights Templar 60, 73, 167, 170, 188 Levantine warfare 107 Siege of Lisbon 158, 183 Saladin 90, 166, 168, 170, 226 Saladin Tithe 95, 168–170 Second Crusade 166, 205 Siege of Acre 227 Third Crusade 19, 158, 223, 226 Cumbria 203 Curia regis 78 English common law 225 Curteles 207 Cynwrig, son of Rhys ap Deheubarth 56 Cypress 227 D’Alton, E. A. 164 Dalton, Paul 38 Damian-Grint, Peter 23

266

index

Damville 121, 157, 206 Danelaw 159 David I, k. Scotland 37, 52, 120, 139, 197 David, e. Huntingdon 91, 198, 202, 212, 216, 219, 235 David, son of Owain ap Gwynedd 55–56, 77, 139 Davis, R. H. C. 15, 38, 132 Decisive battles 127, 137, 147–148 Deheubarth 28, 53, 55, 120, 145, 234 Delbrück, Hans 106, 121–122, 147 Devizes 37–40, 46, 48, 131–134, 233 Devon 39–40, 48, 131, 233 DeVries, Kelly 14 Dialogue of the Exchequer 122 Diarmait Mac Murchada, k. Leinster 30, 70–71 Dieppe 161 Dol 144, 206 Domesday Book 105, 114, 159, 172 Domfront, keep 173 Donation of Constantine 237, 239 Douglas, David 116 Dover 50, 61, 179, 181–182, 196–197, 227 Drax 49 Dreux 149, 233 Drincourt 200–201, 204–205 Dublin 70–72, 74 Dudley 149–150 Duncan, e. Fife 91, 198, 215, 219 Dunwich 210 Durham 213 Dursley, castle 39 Eadred, k. England 117 Edinburgh 78, 202, 219 Edward I, k. England 90, 181, 183, 224 Edward III, k. England 230 Edward the Confessor, k. England 1, 117, 172 Edward, the Black Prince 230 Einion Clud 141 Eleanor of Aquitaine, q. England 5, 41–42, 57–58, 61, 64, 68, 73, 85, 91, 95, 129, 153, 190, 196, 198, 215, 221, 223 Eleanor, daughter of Geoﬀrey, d. Brittany 92–93 Eleanor, daughter of Henry II 77 Elizabeth, wife of Philip of Flanders 84

Emma, sister of Henry II 77 Engelram, b. Glasgow 197 Engelram, castellan of Trie 207 Epernon 154, 234 Eric the Wild 213 Essex 172 Eudo de Porhoët 62, 64, 191, 228, 234 Eugenius III, pope 37, 45 Eustace ﬁtz John, constable of Chester 139–140 Eustace of Boulogne 37, 39–42, 45–46, 58, 131–133, 135–136, 149, 192, 233 Evesham 149 Evreux 60 Expugnatio Hibernica 129, 168, 238–239 Eye 66 Falaise 208 Familia regis 103, 110, 144, 157, 160, 207, 216 Faye-la-Vineuse, castle 196 ‘Feudalism’ 107 fealty 98 n.199 ﬁefs 104–112 honours 103 knights fees 104–112 money-ﬁefs 106, 120 scutage 33, 53, 91, 108–109, 160, 162, 177, 228 Fight at Fornham 147, 210 Florence of Worcester 22 Fornham 210 Fourgères 186, 189, 234 Framlingham 77–78, 209–210, 216, 235 France, John 10, 147 Frederick Barbarossa, emperor 55, 221 Frederick the Great 147 n.64 Freeman, E. A. 117 Fréteval, castle 93, 145, 189 Fulk Nerra, c. Anjou 172, 180 Fulk V, c. Anjou 167 n.134 Fyrd 104, 113–119 hide system 114–115, 172 foot soldiers 113–119 ‘great fyrd’ 114–115, 117 ‘select fyrd’ 114–115, 117 Galloway 19 n.37, 52, 91, 235 Galwegians 213, 215 Ganshof, F. L. 108 n.22

index Geoﬀrey de Burillon 187 Geoﬀrey de Lusignan 95–96, 190–191, 234 Geoﬀrey de Mayenne 61 Geoﬀrey de Montfort 191 Geoﬀrey de Rancone 95 Geoﬀrey de Vendôme 100–101 Geoﬀrey Greymantle, c. Anjou 224 Geoﬀrey le Bel, c. Anjou 3, 17, 19, 40–41, 50, 61, 126, 132, 183, 208 Geoﬀrey of Vinsauf 226 Geoﬀrey Plantagenet, illeg. son of Henry II 99, 145 Bishop-elect of Lincoln 198, 216 Geoﬀrey Vigeois 18 Geoﬀrey, brother of Henry II 41–42, 50–51, 57, 149, 196 n.3, 199, 233–234 Geoﬀrey, son of Henry II, d. Brittany 35 n. 86, 62–63, 65, 68, 76–77, 80, 84–92, 94, 110 n.28, 196, 198, 208, 212, 218, 235 Geoﬀrey, v. Thouars 51 Gerald of Wales (Giraldus Cambrensis) 18, 22, 24, 71, 129, 134, 163–165, 168, 226, 229, 238–239 Gerberoy, castle 154 Gervase of Canterbury 18, 22–23, 33, 47, 84, 164, 169 Gesta Stephani 12, 15, 31, 38, 44, 132, 150 Gilbert de Clare, e. Hertford 139 Gilbert Foliot, b. London 24, 34, 67–68 Gilbert of Mons (Chronicle of Hainaut) 18, 113, 145–146, 183, 216 Gilbert, e. Angus 198, 215 Gillingham, John 9, 11, 35, 94 n.189, 104, 107, 129, 182, 226 Gilson, Etienne 26 Gisors 60, 82, 93–94, 163, 180, 188, 199, 207, 209, 217 Gisors and Trie, meeting place between 82, 92, 95, 97, 207 Glamorgan 55 Gloucestershire 39, 48, 134, 233 Gloucester 71, 133, 186, 234 Goron, castle 61 Gournay 200 Gower 55, 234 Grand Assize 110 Gransden, Antonia 13, 22 Great Revolt of 1173 and 1174 22, 56, 73, 75–77, 79, 83, 87, 98,

267

118–119, 143–44, 158, 195–219, 224, 228, 230 Great Seal of Henry II 222 Greenaway, George 116 Gué St. Remy 93 Guerilla warfare 139, 141, 230 Guienne 69 Guihomar, v. Leon 80, 146 Gundreda, half-sister of Robert of Leicester 150 Gwynedd 28, 52–3, 120, 139, 161, 234 Hadrian IV, pope (Nicholas Brakespeare) 70, 72, 74, 237–239 Hampshire 186 Hanley, Catherine 34 Harold Godwinson, k. England 1–2, 27, 117 Harran 167 Harvey de Leuns 235 Haskins, Charles Homer 222 Hay 196, 211 Hédé, keep 191 Henry de Newburgh 207 Henry de Tracy 40 Henry de Vere, constable of Gisors 92 Henry de Vienne 69 Henry FitzGerald, chamberlain 104 Henry I, c. Champagne 42 Henry I, k. England 1 n.1, 2–5, 10, 27, 49, 58, 103, 147, 158, 180, 224 Henry II, c. Champagne 146 Henry II, k. England, d. Normandy, c. Anjou at Becket’s tomb 215 Crusades 63, 73, 90, 95, 166–170, 189 education 3–4, 5–6 evidence for 11–14, 16 Jews 83, 169 knighting 37–38 marriage 41–42 military legacy 125, 127–130, 146–148, 225–231 modern studies of 9–11 muniﬁcence 78, 229 Angevin Empire coronation 49 Ireland 70–75, 162–166, 237–239 issue of Berry 69, 79–80, 83, 93, 96–98, 101, 145, 155–157, 224, 228, 234–235

268

index

issue of the Vexin 42, 48, 50, 56–57, 60, 63, 79, 92–93, 95, 97–98, 145, 149, 154, 156, 163, 173, 180–181, 188–189, 200, 211, 221, 224, 233–235 reception of England 46–47 reception of Normandy 40–41 size and nature of empire 57, 62–63, 75, 221–225 Diplomacy betrothal and marriage agreements 56–57, 79, 95, 98–100 homage to Louis VII 50, 65 homage to Philip II 101 hostile relations with sons 75–76, 84–89, 94, 98, 100–101, 196, 199–201 relations with Becket 61, 66–68 relations with Rome 60, 69–70, 73–74, 79–80 relations with Scotland 52, 91, 191, 197, 218–219 relations with Spain 77 royal edicts and assizes 65, 83, 110, 115–119 sons’ inheritance 84, 88–89, 90–91, 93 treaty negotiations 64–65, 68–69, 80, 82, 84, 92–95, 97–98, 101, 166, 207–208, 217–218 Military Campaigns against brother Geoﬀrey 51 against Louis VII 48 against Philip II 93, 99–100 early campaigns 6, 38–40, 45, 48, 131–138, 149–151 in Blois 188–189 in Brittany 62–64, 80, 86, 94, 144–145, 189, 191, 206–207 in Flanders 64, 191–192 in France 97 in Maine 61 in Normandy 63–64, 96, 142–144, 148–149, 190, 199–201, 203–206, 213, 216–217 in the South 57–59, 63, 87–88, 151–155, 163–164, 189–192, 211–212 in Wales 52–56, 89–90, 138–142 Military Operations castle construction 173–174, 175, 179–182 castle seizures 49–51, 77–78, 185–186, 218

Channel crossings 160 familia regis 103–104, 160, 207 forced marches 203–204 fyrd 115 invasion forces 44, 113, 162–166, 228 mercenaries 119–123, 206 strategies 130–131, 212 scutage 108–110 ships 160–162 siege warfare 182–193, 216, 228–229 use of Vegetius 126–127, 148 Henry III, k. England 112, 174, 223 Henry Murdac, ab. York 37–38 Henry of Albano, cardinal legate 99 Henry of Blois, b. Winchester 46, 186 Henry of Essex, constable of England 104, 139–140 Henry of Huntingdon (Historia Anglorum) 13, 15–16, 20, 22, 38, 47, 49, 134, 137, 149 Henry Pinchon 69 Henry ‘the Liberal’, c. Champagne 149 Henry ‘the Younger’, joint k. England 30, 60, 65, 67–68, 75, 77, 79, 81, 84–88, 95, 119, 187, 195–198, 200–201, 204, 208, 211–213, 217–218, 234–235 Henry V, k. England 183 Henry VI, k. England 225 Henry, ab. Rheims 154 Heptarchy 1, 117 Heraclius, patriarch of Jerusalem 90, 129, 167–168 Hereford 172, 186, 213, 234 Herodotus 71 Hinton, James 24 Historia comitum Andegavensium 17 Historia Gaufredi ducis Normannorum 16 Historia Pontiﬁcalis 26–27, 238 Hollister, C. Warren 6, 109 Holt, J. C. 32 Holy Roman Empire 176, 221 Holy Sepulchre, church of 167 Hubert ﬁtz Hubert 75 Hugh Bigod, e. Norfolk 38, 48, 51, 78, 132, 151, 186, 198, 209–210, 216, 235 Hugh Capet, k. France 68 n.99, 221 Hugh de Amboise 189 Hugh de Beauchamp, constable of Verneuil 201, 205

index Hugh de Lacy, constable of Verneuil 72, 74, 201, 205 Hugh de Morville 68 Hugh de Puiset, b. Durham 67, 78, 198, 213, 216 Hugh de Silly 190 Hugh III, c. Burgundy 84 Hugh Mortimer 50, 186, 234 Hugh of St. Victor 21 Hugh, b. Durham 91 Hugh, b. Lincoln 96 Hugh, c. Bar 198, 216 n.62 Hugh, e. Chester 78, 121, 144, 198, 206–207, 216 Humbert, c. Maurienne 196 Humphrey de Bohun, constable of England 198, 209–210 Hundred Years War 125, 223 Hunt, Tony 111 Huntingdon 52, 216, 235 Hyland, Ann 164 Hywel ab Ieuaf 139 Ile-de-France 154 Innocent III, pope 75, 99 n.200 Inquest of the Sheriﬀs 63, 65 Iorwerth Goch, brother of Madog 139 Ipswich 151 Irish church 237–39 Isabella of Hainaut, wife of Philip II 81 Issoudon, castle 93, 98, 145 Italian Renaissance 119 Ivry 80, 157 Jedburgh, castle 219 Jerome de Muserol 87 Jerusalem 73, 97, 100, 166–168, 170, 228 Jews 20, 83, 116, 163, 169 Joanna, daughter of Henry II 77 Jocelin of Brakelond 18 Jocelin, b. Salisbury 68 John Cumin, b. Dublin 90 John Le Patourel 223–224 John Lynch 239 John of Agnani, cardinal 99–100 John of Hexham 15, 29 John of Marmoutier 17, 90 n.172 John of Salisbury 6, 18, 23, 26–27, 34, 126, 152–153, 237–238 John of Worcester 15 John, b. Evreux 156 John, c. Ponthieu 61, 64, 192

269

John, c. Vendôme 198, 207 John, son of Henry II 2 n.1, 3, 21, 26, 68, 75, 89, 93, 98, 100, 145, 196, 218 k. England 90, 118, 121, 147, 158, 174, 180, 186, 223, 225 Jones, Michael 9, 62 Jones, Thomas 199 Jordan Fantosme 18, 20, 23–24, 28, 35, 112–113, 129, 143, 178, 200–201, 205, 209–210, 214, 222 Jordan Taisson, v. Cotentin 198, 207 Jordan, castellan of Malmesbury 44 Jordan, William Chester 108 Josce of Gloucester 70 Joscelin Crispin 48 Joscelin of Louvain 149 Joscelin, b. Glasgow 91 Joscius, ab. Tyre 168–169 Julius Caesar 126 Julius Frontinus (Strategemata) 27 Kaeuper, Richard 35 Kinardeferie 19 Kirsten, soke of 196 Knights Hospitaller 25, 167, 227, 230 Knights Templar 60, 73, 167, 170, 188 La Ferté Bernard 99, 191 La Marche 155, 191 La Roche Mabille, castle 61 Languedoc 57–59, 63, 70, 96, 154–155, 163 Latimer, Paul 162 Laudabiliter 70, 72–73, 237–239 Le Bec 127 Le Ferté Bernard 187 Le Vimeu 192, 229 Leicester 77, 149–150, 202–203, 209–210, 212 Leinster 30, 71 LeMans 16, 62, 83, 99–100, 187–189, 212, 228 Leo III, pope 222 Leon 64, 191 Les Roches, castle 156 L’Histoire de Guillaume le Maréchal 35 Liddell, castle 203 Lillebone 206 Limerick 75 Limoges 51, 77, 86–89, 155, 195, 230, 235 Limousin 80, 88, 154–155, 235 Lincoln 39, 66, 127, 131

270

index

Lisieux 152 Lismore, castle 90 Livy (Titus Livius) 126 Llandovery, castle 54 Logistics 157–170 London 216 Loudon, castle 41, 50–51, 149, 196, 234 Louis IX, k. France 147 Louis VI ‘the Fat’, k. France 147 Louis VII, k. France 9, 32, 41–42, 48, 50, 55–57, 59–60, 63, 65, 68–69, 76, 79–83, 85, 95, 98–99, 106, 120 n.65, 130, 132–133, 141–144, 148–149, 152, 154–155, 166–167, 176, 188–192, 195–197, 200–201, 203–206, 208, 211, 213, 217, 221, 228–229, 233–235 Lusignan 64, 190, 229, 234 Madog, brother of Owain ap Gwynedd 53, 139, 161 Magna Carta 185 n.51 Malaunay 217 Maletable 187 Malmesbury 12, 44, 120 n.65, 133, 135, 137, 228, 230, 233 Malmolm IV ‘Canmore’, k. Scotland 52, 55, 163, 186, 191, 197, 221 Malzeard, castle 216 Mandeville, castle 189 Mantes 63, 133, 156, 189 Manuel Comnenus, emperor 121 March of Wales 28–29, 53–55, 140, 172, 176, 233 Maredudd, son of Rhys ap Deheubarth 56 Margaret, daughter of Louis VII 56, 60, 68, 79, 80 n.146, 95, 195 Marguerite, sister of Philip of Alsace 81 Marlborough 39 Martin, F. X. 164 Martindale, Jane 153 Mary, daughter of Louis VII 80 n.146 Matilda, empress (Maud) 1 n.1, 3–4, 25, 37, 49, 58, 64 Matthew Paris 182 Matthew, c. Boulogne 24, 63, 76, 192, 196, 198, 200, 228 Matthew, Master 5 Maurice Fitzgerald 163, 165 Meath 74

Mêle-sur-Sarthe 181 Melun 133 Mercenaries 87, 99, 104, 110, 119–123, 205, 230 Brabanters (Brabácons) 86, 88, 96–97, 120, 144, 206–207, 216 cotereaux 120 Flemings 120, 147, 158, 209–211, 216 n.62, 214 mercennarios 119 routiers 120 solidarii 119 stipendiarii 119–120, 123, 156 Welsh 93, 120–121, 145, 156, 187, 190, 216 Merlemont, castle 183 Messina 227 Metalogicon 26–27, 237–239 Meyer, Hans 166 ‘Military Revolution’ 128 Milo de Cogham 75 Mirebeau, castle 41, 50–51, 86, 149, 196, 234 Molineaux, castle 77 Mont-de-la-Nue 132 Mont-Doubleau, castle 100 Montfort 154, 187, 234 Montmirail 64, 69, 79, 192, 229, 234 Montoire 101 Montrelais 94, 192, 235 Montreuil-Bellay, castle 40 Montsoreau 78, 149, 233 Mont-St. Michel 16, 62 Moore, John 178 Moors 170, 176 Moray 201 Morillo, Stephen 10, 111–112, 130, 143, 147 Mortaine 46, 68, 196 Mortemer, castle 46 Mortimer, Richard 223 Moses 222 Nantes 50–51, 57, 62, 87, 90, 221, 234 Napoleon Bonaparte 147 n.64 Narbonne 58 Neauﬂes-Auvergny, castle 60, 188 Nelson, Lynn 142 Neuborg 60, 79 Neuf Marché 42, 48, 57, 149 Neufchâtel-en-Bray, castle 77 Neulon de Fréteval 97 Neville family 78

index Newbury 43 Newcastle-under-Lyme, castle 185 Newcastle-upon-Tyne 52, 186, 197, 202, 213 Nicholson, Helen 12, 108, 158 Nonancourt 101 n.209, 181 Norfolk 78, 80 Norham, castle 78 Northampton 67, 91, 212, 216 Northumberland 197, 202, 215 Norwich 186, 210 Nottingham 45–46, 151, 185–186, 212 Noyon 84 Octavian, cardinal sub-deacon 93, 146 Oliver ﬁtz Ernest 87 Oman, Charles 128 Ongar, honour 208 Orderic Vitalis 15, 103, 173 Orford, castle 173 O’Rouric, k. Meath 71 Orwell 209 Oswestry 140, 234 Otway-Ruthven, A. J. 164 Owain ap Gwynedd, prince 53, 55–56, 138–141, 234 Owain Cyfeiliog 141 Oxford 5, 46, 75, 136, 174 Oye 67 Pacy 63, 189, 200 Pacy-sur-Epte, castle 78, 97, 156 Palermo 77 Paris 21, 25–26, 92, 94, 133, 154, 165, 196 Passais 186 Patrick, e. Salisbury 38, 64, 191 Pauld, castle 97 Peace of God 175 Peak, castle 185 Pembroke 70, 161 Pencader 55 Perche 64, 132, 142, 186, 229 Périgueux 152 Perth 52 Peter Abelard 26 Peter of Saintes 3 Peter Seilun 96 Peter, abbot Celle 238 Peter, titular of St. Chrysogonus 79 Pevensey 208 Philip Contamine 119, 127

271

Philip de Brois 66 Philip I, k. France 2 Philip II Augustus, k. France 17, 32, 48, 65, 80–84, 88–90, 92–101, 113–115, 145–146, 156–157, 167, 169, 175, 187–188, 205, 217, 221, 235 Philip II, v. Aimar 88 Philip of Alsace, c. Flanders 55, 64, 76, 81–84, 89, 93, 97, 113, 115, 142, 167, 169–170, 196, 198, 200–201, 204, 206, 211–13, 219, 224, 234–235 Philip of Colleville 49 Philip, b. Beauvais 156 Philippa, wife of William IX of Aquitaine 58 Pipe Rolls 33, 118, 162, 165, 180 Plantagenet Somerset Fry 181–182 Pliny the Elder (Gaius Plinius Secundus) 126 Poitiers 58–59, 127, 152, 196, 212 Policraticus 26–27, 153 Ponthieu 142, 192 Pontorson 146 Poole, A. L. 223 Port Lairgi 164 Portsmouth 79, 161 Powys 28, 53, 120 Prestwich, J. O. 117, 226 Prestwich, Michael 10, 122, 129, 177, 225 Prudhoe, castle 202, 214–215 Pruilly, castle 211 Quercy 59, 88 Ralph de Fougères 61, 101, 121, 144, 189, 198, 206–207, 216, 234 Ralph Diceto 13, 18, 21–22, 26, 84, 164, 226, 238 Ralph Rufus 113 Ranulf de Blundeville, e. Chester 93 Ranulf de Gernons, e. Chester 37–39, 43, 131, 134, 150–151, 185 Ranulf de Glanville, justiciar of England 83, 89–91, 93, 112–113, 187, 214 Ranulf Poer 89 Raoul, c. Clermont-en-Beauvais 83 Raymond IV, c. Barcelona 152, 163 Raymond IV, c. St. Gilles 58 Raymond Trencavel 163 Raymond V, c. St. Gilles 58–59

272

index

Raymond V, c. Toulouse 96–97, 152, 154, 234 Raymond, c. Turenne 88 Reginald ﬁtzUrse 68 Reginald, e. Cornwall 38, 47, 198, 210 Rennes 86, 191 Reynolds, Susan 108–111 Rheims 80 Rhys ap Deheubarth, prince 54–55, 66, 89, 141, 198, 216, 234–235 Richard Barre 69 Richard de Camville 104 Richard de Hastings 60 Richard de Humet, constable of Normandy 198, 207 Richard de Lucy, justiciar of England 64, 104, 147, 198, 202–203, 208–212, 215, 228 Richard de Morville, constable of Scotland 198, 215 Richard de Vals 92 Richard de Vernun 207 Richard ﬁtz Count 207 Richard ﬁtz Nigel, treasurer of England 122 Richard ﬁtzGilbert ‘Strongbow’, e. Clare/Hertford 30, 70–72, 74, 207 Richard Fitzpons 54 Richard II, k. England 1 Richard III, k. England 225 Richard le Bret 68 Richard of Devizes 226 Richard of Gloucester 48, 234 Richard, ab. Canterbury 219 Richard, b. Winchester 212–213 Richard, e. Strigoil 198 Richard, son of Henry II and d. Aquitaine 65, 68, 76–77, 79, 83–91, 93–101, 145–146, 155–157, 170, 187, 191, 196, 198, 208, 212, 217–218, 223, 235 Richard I ‘the Lionheart’, k. England 19–20, 90, 118, 158, 180–181, 183, 225–228, 230 Richardson, H. G. 111, 118 Rigord of St. Denis 17 Robert Curthose 2 n.1 Robert de Courcy 140 Robert de Dunstanville 104 Robert de Montfort 140 Robert de Pirou, knight Templar 60 Robert de Silly 190

Robert de Stuteville 214 Robert de Vaux 178, 203, 214 Robert d’Oilli 174 Robert Ferrers 150 Robert ﬁtz Bernard 72 Robert ﬁtz Stephen 74–75 Robert II, c. Nevers 145 Robert II, e. Leicester 208 Robert III, e. Leicester 45, 47, 76, 78, 119, 120 n.65, 147, 150, 151, 198, 206, 208–211, 216, 234 Robert of Bellême 180 Robert of Torigini 13, 15–16, 21, 40–41, 43, 47–48, 135, 144, 149–150, 163, 189–190, 200 Robert, b. Bath 15 Robert, c. Dreux 149, 154 Robert, c. Nevers 93 Robert, e. Gloucester 4–6, 38, 43, 210 Rochecorbon 101 Rochefort, castle 154, 234 Roches l’Evêque 101 Rochester, castle 196 Rodger, N. A. M. 158 Roger de Conyers 78 Roger de Mowbray 113, 198, 212, 216 Roger de Pont, ab. York 67–68 Roger de Stuteville, castellan of Wark 78, 178–179, 202, 213–214 Roger FitzRichard 201 n.17 Roger of Howden 18–20, 22–23, 29, 33, 59, 76, 84–85, 98, 103, 143–144, 164–165, 187, 200, 205, 210, 226, 229 Roger, ab. York 219 Roger, archdeacon of Canterbury 137 n.30 Roger, b. Worcester 68, 207 Roger, e. Clare 54, 140 Roger, e. Hereford 37–39, 43–44, 150, 186 Roland de Dinan 191 Roland ﬁtz Uhtred 91, 146, 235 Rose, Susan 158 Ross 201 Rouen 50, 91, 144, 184, 204, 206–207, 213, 216–217, 235 Round, J. H. 104, 111, 237 Roxburgh, castle 78, 219 Ruaidrí Ua Conchobair (Roderic O’Connor) 71, 219 Ruddlan, castle 53, 138

index Saintes 152, 212 Salisbury 39, 196 Sancho VI ‘the Wise’, k. Navarre 77 Sandwich 67 Saumur 100–101, 212 Sayles, G. O. 111, 118 Scammell, Jean 105 Scarborough, castle 78 Schlight, John 233 Scottish warfare 202 Sées 212 Senlis 84, 95, 168 Ships 157–166 amphibious warfare 161–162 Anglo-Saxon navies 117 n.54, 157, 159 Byzantine ships 162 Cinque ports 160 Ship list of William the Conqueror 159 ship-soke 159 White Ship disaster 157 Shoreham 161 Short-cross pennies 33 Shrewsbury 140 Shropshire 138, 234 Sicily 158 Siege warfare 182–188 catapults 144, 214 crow 142 Greek Fire 183 siege engines 183–184 trebuchets 183–184 Sigebert of Gembloux 27 Simon II, c. Evreux 154 Slade, C. F. 137 Smail, R. C. 227 Solway Firth 203 Southampton 51, 79, 149, 215 Spain 73, 166, 170, 176 St. Agnan, castle 69, 192 St. Andemar 88 St. Augustine, abbey 127 St. Brice, castle 83 St. Clair 157 St. David’s 25, 71, 73, 165 St. Denis 81, 196 St. George’s Channel 70 St. James de Compostella 96 St. Martial 18, 88 St. Martial, citadel 86 St. Méen, abbey 80 n.144 Staﬀord, castle 185 Stamford 45, 150–151

273

Stephen of Tours, seneschal of Anjou 187 Stephen, c. Blois 3 Stephen, c. Sancerre 83 Stephen, k. England and c. Blois 1 n.1, 3–5, 12–13, 23, 27, 37–49, 52, 58, 115, 131, 133–137, 141, 149, 151, 173, 175, 184, 186, 208, 221, 230, 233 Stirling, castle 219 Stoneleigh, abbey 150 Strata Florida, monastery 28 Strickland, Matthew 10, 23, 35, 76 n.132, 202 Stubbs, William 14, 21, 116, 118 Stuteville family 78 Suﬀolk 151 Symeon of Durham 16 Synod of Cashel 72 Taillebourg, castle 96 Tegeingl, castle 53, 55 Theobald V, c. Blois 69, 82, 97, 188, 196, 198, 212, 234 Theobald, ab. Canterbury 26, 34, 37, 45–46, 61, 137 n.30 Theoderic, c. Flanders 50 Theodinus, papal legate 73 Thierry, c. Flanders 61, 106 Third Lateran Council 121 Thomas Becket, ab. Canterbury 17, 22, 26, 34, 55, 57, 63, 66, 68–69, 71, 79, 208, 216, 219 Chancellor of England 61, 66–67, 104, 127, 152, 154, 163 tomb of 80, 215 Becket aﬀair 72, 190, 224–225, 229, 230–231 Thomas Brown 22 Thomas of Parcé 17 Thouars 51 Thucydides 15 Tibrach, castle 90 Tickhill, castle 185 Tinteniac, castle 191 Torigini 41, 48, 57, 132, 134, 152, 192, 228 Tostes 217 Tostes de St. Omer 60 Touci 60 Toulouse 21, 52, 57–60, 63, 66, 83, 91, 96–97, 109, 127, 151–154, 163–165, 188, 193 n.72, 228, 234 Tours 63, 101, 127, 166, 187–188, 235

274

index

Tower of London 208 Treaty of Falaise 118, 218–219 Treaty of Gisors 83 Treaty of Ivry (Nonancourt) 80, 82, 95, 155, 166, 228 Treaty of Mont Louis 77, 85, 87, 217–218, 235 Treaty of Montmirail 95 Treaty of Paris 223 Treaty of Winchester 174, 185, 208 Treaty of Windsor 219 Trou, castle 101, 156 Truce of God 175 Tutbury, castle 216, 150–151, 233 Twelfth-Century Renaissance 26 Tyerman, Christopher 166 Urban III, pope 90, 93 Urso de Fréteval 93, 145 Usk, castle 71 Vale of Ceiriog 55–56, 130, 140–142, 161, 188, 228, 234 Valerius Maximus 126 Valois 83 Vannes 191 Vegetius (Flavius Vegetius Renatus; De re militari) 27, 126–127, 182, 230 battle-seeking 130–131, 142 logistical warfare 125–127 Vegetian warfare 143, 147–57, 192 Vendôme 68, 96, 211, 235 Verbruggen, J. F. 106 Vermandois 83–84 Verneuil 48, 130, 143–144, 173, 200–201, 203–204, 206, 214, 230, 234 Vézelay 208 Vikings 117, 157, 162, 171 Vincent, Nicholas 32 Vita Sancti Thomæ 26 Wace 204 Waleran de Ivry 80, 235 Waleran of Meulan 44 Wallingford 43–46, 133, 135–136, 150, 174, 185, 228, 230, 234 Walter Cliﬀord 54 Walter de Bolebec 201 n.17 Walter de Fontaines 219 Walter de Lucy, abbot of Battle Abbey 209 n.40 Walter Map 18, 24–26, 168, 229

Walter of Coutances 22 Walter, b. Rochester 67 Waltham 84 Waltheof, e. Dunbar 197, 219 Wareham 44, 162 Warenne 46 Wark, castle 52, 78, 179, 183–184, 186, 202–203, 212–215 Warkworth, castle 202 Warren, W. L. 11, 59, 60 n.76, 79, 85, 122, 222 Wars of the Roses 10 Warwick, castle 150 Waterford 70, 72, 74, 164, 219 Wessex 171 Westminster 47, 49 Westminster Abbey 67 Westmoreland 52, 197 Wexford 163 White, Stephen 239 Wigmore, castle 50, 186 Wiliam Talvas 234 William Adelin, son of Henry I 158 William de Barres 157 William de Beauchamp 43 William de Humet 144, 207 William de Mandeville, e. Essex 145, 157, 167, 198, 207 William de Mortimer 113 William de Tracy 68, 131 William de Vesci 113, 201 n.17 William ﬁtz Osbern 159, 172 William FitzStephen 152, 163 William I ‘the Conqueror’, king of England 1–2, 10, 27, 41, 83, 104, 108, 115, 157–159, 162, 181, 223 William II ‘the Good’, king of Sicily 77 William IV, c. Angoulême 190, 192, 234 William IV, c. Toulouse 58 William IX ‘the Troubadour’, d. Aquitaine 58 William le Gros, c. Aumale 50, 186, 234 William Marshal 35, 100, 107, 146, 156 William of Boulogne 46–47, 59 William of Conches 6, 26, 126 William of Malmesbury 15 William of Newburgh 18, 20–21, 41, 58, 72, 122, 135, 145, 151, 154, 164, 201–205, 226 William of Ypres 47

index William Peverel 186 William Rodgers 158 William II ‘Rufus’, k. England 1–2 n.1, 10, 27, 115, 147, 225 William Talvas, c. Sées 61 William the Breton 17 William the Lion, k. Scotland 9, 30, 32, 76, 78, 83, 91, 112, 178–179, 183–184, 191, 197–198, 201–203, 209, 211–216, 218–219 William VIII, c. Auvergne 63, 79, 189, 234 William X, d. Aquitaine 58 William, ab. Rheims 81 William, ab. Sens 69 William, brother of Henry II 237

275

William, e. Arundel 198, 207, 210 William, e. Ferrers/Derby 198, 212, 216 William, e. Gloucester 39, 48, 198, 207, 210 n.43 William, e. Mortaine 59 Wilton 46 Wiltshire 133, 233 Winchester 46, 70, 79 Windsor 65, 208 Witsand 93 Woodstock 80 Worcester 41, 43, 89, 235 Ymagines Historiarum 238 York 20, 38–40, 131, 134, 233–234