Journal of Medieval Military History: Volume XIX (Journal of Medieval Military History, 19) 9781783275915, 178327591X

Table of contents :
Front Cover
Contents
List of Illustrations
1 The Battle of Firāḍ: The Day on Which Khālid b. al-Walīd Did [Not] Defeat Both Byzantines and Persians
2 A Mislocated Battlefield? Battle Flats: The Battle of Stamford Bridge, 1066
3 The Frankish Campaign of 1133-1134 in Northern Syria and the Battle of Qinnasrīn
4 Bella plus quam civilia? The Place of Battle in the Context of Civil War under the Anglo-Norman and Angevin Kings, c. 1100-c. 1217
5 Edward I’s War on the Continent, 1297-1298: A New Appraisal
6 The Earliest European Recipes for “Powder for Guns” (1336 and 1338-c. 1350)
7 Bellicose Rhetoric: The Memorable War Speeches of One Aragonese Royal Couple
8 Coureurs and Their Role in Late Medieval Warfare
Contributors
Contents of Previous Volumes

Citation preview

CONTENTS Konstantinos Takirtakoglou

Battle of Firād.: The Day on Which Khālid b. al-Walīd Did [Not] Defeat Both Byzantines and Persians

MICHAEL C. BLUNDELL

A Mislocated Battlefield? Battle Flats: The Battle of Stamford Bridge, 1066

EVGENIY A. GURINOV

The Frankish Campaign of 1133–1134 in Northern Syria and the Battle of Qinnasrīn

MATTHEW STRICKLAND

Bella plus quam civilia? The Place of Battle in the Context of Civil War under the Anglo-Norman and Angevin Kings, c. 1100– c.1217

DAVID PILLING

Edward I’s War on the Continent, 1297–1298: A New Appraisal

CLIFFORD J. ROGERS AND FABRIZIO ANSANI

The Earliest European Recipes for “Powder for Guns” (1336 and 1338–c. 1350)

DONALD J. KAGAY

Bellicose Rhetoric: The Memorable War Speeches of One Aragonese Royal Couple

MICHAEL J. HARBINSON

Coureurs and Their Role in Late Medieval Warfare

Cover: Coll. Bibliothèques municipales de Chambéry, MS13, fo. 105r (circa 1170–1190). The Italian artist who illuminated this copy of Gratian’s Decretum beautifully captured the deadly seriousness of medieval warfare – for townsmen as well as knights. Image used by generous permission of the Bibliothèques municipales de Chambéry.

JOURNAL OF MEDIEVAL MILITARY HISTORY  VIII JOURNAL OF MEDIEVAL MILITARY HISTORY

The Journal’s hallmark is broad chronological, geographic and thematic coverage of the subject, bearing witness to ‘the range and richness of scholarship on medieval warfare, military institutions, and cultures of conflict that characterises the field’.  HISTORY

XIX

J ournal of

MEDIEVAL MILITARY HISTORY

FRANCE, DEVRIES, ROGERS (editors)

·   XIX · Edited by JOHN FRANCE, KELLY DEVRIES and CLIFFORD J. ROGERS

JOURNAL OF

Medieval Military History Volume XIX

JOURNAL OF MEDIEVAL MILITARY HISTORY

Editors Clifford J. Rogers Kelly DeVries John France ISSN 1477–545X

The Journal, an annual publication of De re militari: The Society for Medieval Military History, covers medieval warfare in the broadest possible terms, both chronologically and thematically. It aims to encompass topics ranging from traditional studies of the strategic and tactical conduct of war, to explorations of the martial aspects of chivalric culture and mentalité, examinations of the development of military technology, and prosopographical treatments of the composition of medieval armies. Editions of previously unpublished documents of significance to the field are included. The Journal also seeks to foster debate on key disputed aspects of medieval military history. The editors welcome submissions to the Journal, which should be formatted in accordance with the style-sheet provided on De re militari’s website (www.deremilitari.org), and sent electronically to the editor specified there.

JOURNAL OF

Medieval Military History Volume XIX

Edited by JOHN FRANCE KELLY DeVRIES CLIFFORD J. ROGERS

THE BOYDELL PRESS

© Contributors 2021 All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under current legislation no part of this work may be photocopied, stored in a retrieval system, published, performed in public, adapted, broadcast, transmitted, recorded or reproduced in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the copyright owner

First published 2021 The Boydell Press, Woodbridge ISBN 978-1-78327-591-5 hardback ISBN 978-1-80010-228-6 ePDF The Boydell Press is an imprint of Boydell & Brewer Ltd PO Box 9, Woodbridge, Suffolk IP12 3DF, UK and of Boydell & Brewer Inc. 668 Mt Hope Avenue, Rochester, NY 14620–2731, USA website: www.boydellandbrewer.com A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library The publisher has no responsibility for the continued existence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this book, and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate Cover: Coll. Bibliothèques municipales de Chambéry, MS13, fo. 105r (circa 1170–1190). The Italian artist who illuminated this copy of Gratian’s Decretum beautifully captured the deadly seriousness of medieval warfare – for townsmen as well as knights. Image used by generous permission of the Bibliothèques municipales de Chambéry

Contents

List of Illustrations 1. The Battle of Firāḍ: The Day on Which Khālid b. al-Walīd Did [Not] Defeat Both Byzantines and Persians Konstantinos Takirtakoglou 2. A Mislocated Battlefield? Battle Flats: The Battle of Stamford Bridge, 1066 Michael C. Blundell 3. The Frankish Campaign of 1133–1134 in Northern Syria and the Battle of Qinnasrīn Evgeniy A. Gurinov 4. Bella plus quam civilia? The Place of Battle in the Context of Civil War under the Anglo-Norman and Angevin Kings, c. 1100–c. 1217 Matthew Strickland 5. Edward I’s War on the Continent, 1297–1298: A New Appraisal David Pilling 6. The Earliest European Recipes for “Powder for Guns” (1336 and 1338–c. 1350) Clifford J. Rogers and Fabrizio Ansani 7. Bellicose Rhetoric: The Memorable War Speeches of One Aragonese Royal Couple Donald J. Kagay 8. Coureurs and Their Role in Late Medieval Warfare Michael J. Harbinson List of Contributors

vii 1 21 43 57 77 119 127 147 191

List of Illustrations

1. The Battle of Firāḍ: The Day on Which Khālid b. al-Walīd Did [Not] Defeat Both Byzantines and Persians Map 1.1 Khālid b. al-Walīd in Iraq and Syria.

3

2. A Mislocated Battlefield? Battle Flats: The Battle of Stamford Bridge, 1066 Map 2.1 Stamford Bridge: General Location 22 Map 2.2 Stamford Bridge: Local Area 22 3. The Frankish Campaign of 1133–1134 in Northern Syria and the Battle of Qinnasrīn Map 3.1 Qinnasrīn in Context

47

5. Edward I’s War on the Continent, 1297–1298: A New Appraisal Map 5.1 Flanders, circa 1300

91

8. Coureurs and Their Role in Late Medieval Warfare Figure 8.1 St. Victor (or St. Maurice) by Maître de Moulins c. 1480 © CSG CIC Glasgow Museums Collection

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1 The Battle of Firāḍ: The Day on Which Khālid b. al-Walīd Did [Not] Defeat Both Byzantines and Persians1 Konstantinos Takirtakoglou

This article examines of the battle of Firāḍ, which took place in 634 between the Muslim Arabs and a Byzantine–Persian coalition. A critical analysis of the medieval Arabic sources reveals the following: a) the Byzantines were in command of the allied forces, b) the battle was caused by the fact that the Byzantine forces garrisoning the fortress were an obstacle in Khālid b. al-Walīd and his forces’ route from Iraq into Syria, and c) the Byzantines emerged victorious from the engagement, forcing the Arab general to undertake his famous desert march. The battle of Firāḍ (also known as the battle of Firaz) is a well-known engagement among scholars of Arabic history, in the course of which, according to Arabic sources, the Arabs, under the leadership of that period’s military savant Khālid b. al-Walīd,2 known as the Sword of Allah (Sayf Allāh)3 crushed a coalition of their enemies, consisting of Byzantines, Persians and Christian Arabs. However, scholarship on the battle raises a number of questions, to such an extent that even its historicity is debatable. The present article will attempt, after examining the references made in the sources, to offer a new interpretation, which we believe covers many of the extant historical gaps. The battle was the final act in the early phase of Muslim expansion against the Sassanid Persian Empire, into Iraq in particular, which neighbored Arabia. This Arabian campaign began during the reign of Caliph Abū Bakr, who, as 1 2

3

I would like to express my gratitude to Professor Clifford J. Rogers for his comments. Caetani refuses to include Khālid “among the greatest generals in all history,” being content with naming him “the best and most capable strategist of primitive Islam.” See Leone Caetani, “The Art of War of the Arabs, and the Supposed Religious Fervor of the Arab Conquerors,” in The Expansion of the Early Islamic State, ed. Fred M. Donner (Aldershot, 2008), pp. 5–6. For this honorific, see Patricia Crone, “Khālid b. al-Walīd,” in The Encyclopaedia of Islam, eds. Emeri J. van Donzel, Bernard Lewis-Charles Pellat, and Clifford Edmund Bosworth, vol. 4, 2nd ed. (Leiden, 1997), p. 928. David S. Powers, Muḥammad Is Not the Father of Any of Your Men. The Making of the Last Prophet (Philadelphia, 2009), p. 80. For the image of Khālid in medieval Arab sources in general, see Boaz Shoshan, The Arabic Historical Tradition and the Early Islamic Conquests. Folklore, Tribal Lore, Holy War, Routledge Studies in Classical Islam 4 (Abingdon, New York, 2016), pp. 94–97.

2

Konstantinos Takirtakoglou

the first caliph, had succeeded in energetically putting down a string of revolts by Arab tribal leaders that had broken out after the death of the Prophet. These tribesmen had attempted to exploit the fact in order to break away from the dominion of Mecca (the Ridda Wars).4 Having achieved the political dominance of Ummah over the Arabian Peninsula after this success, he decided that the aggressiveness of his warriors would be best turned against the two neighboring empires, Byzantium and Persia. The timing of this decision was truly favorable, as the two great powers of that period had not yet managed to heal the wounds caused by the exhausting, drawn-out conflict between them, which had only ended a few years earlier.5 Iraq was an obvious early target for the Muslims. Not only did it border Arabia, but a significant portion of the population was of Arab descent6 while the region itself was known to the Arabs of the Peninsula, despite not having the same prestige in their eyes as Syria.7 Abū Bakr’s strategic plan was simple: Khālid b. al-Walīd would invade the region from the south, while ‘Iyāḍ would invade from the north.8 The axes of the two invasion routes would converge on the town of Ḥīrah, while whichever of the two generals arrived first at that objective would assume overall command of subsequent operations in the region.9 The choice of Ḥīrah as a target was not at all random, having been made due to the importance of the city, as the administrative hub of the border region in which were located the pro-Iranian Arabic tribes of the Arabo-Persian frontier.10 This was the Caliph’s plan according to subsequent Arabic sources, although it

4 5 6

7 8 9

10

Fred McGraw Donner, The Early Islamic Conquests (Princeton, 1981), pp. 82–90. Theophanis, Chronographia, ed. Johannes Classen, Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae (Bonn, 1839), pp. 327–28. Donner, Islamic Conquests, p. 171. Michael G. Morony, Iraq After the Muslim Conquest (Princeton, 1984), pp. 214–23. At any rate, the most significant racial group in the region where the Aramaeans, see Morony, Iraq, pp. 169–80. Donner, Islamic Conquests, p. 176. Hugh Kennedy, The Great Arab Conquests. How the Spread of Islam Changed the World We Live In (London, 2007), p. 71. The direction from which ‘Iyāḍ would invade is a complex matter and is directly related to the matter of the identity of the Dūmat which is mentioned in this campaign. Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh al-̉umam wa al-mulūk, vol. 3, ed. Muḥammad Abū al-Faḍl Ibrāhīm (Beirut, 2008), p. 212: ‫ وإلى عياض إذ أ ّمره على حرب‬.‫ أن يدخلها من أسفلها‬،‫ إذ أ ّمره على حرب العراق‬،‫كتب أبو بكر إلى خالد بن الوليد‬ .‫ فأيّهما سبق إلى الحيرة فهو أمير على ضاحبه‬،‫ ثم يستبقا إلى الحيرة‬،‫ أن يدخلها من أعالها‬،‫العراق‬ The History of al-Ṭabarī, vol. 11, trans. Khalid Yahya Blankinship (New York, 1993), p. 10: “Abū Bakr wrote to Khālid b. al-Walīd, when he made him commander on the Iraqi front, enjoining him to enter it from its lowest reaches. [He also] wrote to ‘Iyāḍ, when he made him commander on the Iraqi front, that he [should] enter it from its uppermost part. Then they would race to al-Ḥīrah, and whoever reached al-Ḥīrah first would become the commander of the other.” See also: Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 229 (The History, p. 48). See for example: Morony, Iraq, p. 151. Regardless, Caetani expresses reasonable skepticism about the power wielded by the Sasanian governor of Ḥīrah beyond the walls of the city in the aftermath of the Byzantine–Persian war, see Leone Caetani, Annali dell’Islam, vol. 2/2 (Milan, 1907), p. 913.



The Battle of Firāḍ

3

Map 1.1  Khālid b. al-Walīd in Iraq and Syria.

has been convincingly argued that Khālid may have undertaken this operation without the prior approval of Abū Bakr.11 Khālid b. al-Walīd entered Iraq in the summer of 63312 with a military force comprised of 18,000 men. According to the account of Sayf b. ‘Umar, as recorded by Ṭabarī,13 after winning a series of battles (Kāẓimah, Madhār, Walajah, and Ullays)14 he arrived on the outskirts of the strategic objective of the entire oper11 12 13

14

Donald R. Hill, “The Mobility of Arab Armies in the Early Conquests,” (unpublished Ph.D. thesis, Durham University, 1963), p. 161. Donner, Islamic Conquests, p. 178. Kennedy, Arab Conquests, p. 104. The choice of this account as the basis of our analysis was made as it is this account which describes the battle of Firāḍ. The narrative of Ibn al-Athīr is also based on the same account: see Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil fī al-Ta’rīkh. vol. 2, ed. ‘Abdullah al-Qādī & Muḥammad al-Daqqāq (Beirut, 2006), pp. 238–50. The discrepancies in information between Sayf and other Arabic sources regarding the route followed by the campaign are oftentimes significant. For example, Ya‘qūbī mentions the following stops in Khālid’s Iraq campaign, before he set off for Syria: conquest of the cities of Bāniqyā and Kaskar, battle against Jābān and conquest of Ḥīrah, see Ya‘qūbī, al-Ta’rīkh, vol. 2, ed. Martijn Theodoor Houtsma (Leiden, 1883), p. 147. For an exceptionally useful, despite its age, overview of the Arabic sources regarding the Persian campaign of Khālid, see Caetani, Annali, pp. 917 ff. Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 213–19 (The History, pp. 12–25).

4

Konstantinos Takirtakoglou

ation, the city of Ḥīrah, in May. The Persian administrator of the city, Āzādhbih, had chosen to station his forces behind the city, leaving its largely Arab inhabitants to defend it. The defenders were ultimately forced to seek terms with Khālid, due to the scorched earth policy carried out by the Muslim forces in the surrounding countryside.15 This success16 confirmed Khālid as the ranking military commander of the Iraq theater of operations. The other Arab general, who had invaded from the north, had encountered difficulties in his advance, which forced Khālid himself to move north in order to provide him with assistance. According to Arabic sources, what followed was a victorious advance by Khālid: The capture of the fortress of Anbār, victory in the “decisive clash”17 of ‘Ayn Tamr,18 the conquest of the new19 Dūmat al-Jandal, the victory of his general al-Qa‘qā‘ b. ‘Amr against the Persian administrator Rūzbih at Ḥuṣayd, and further victories of Khālid against the Christian Arab allies of the Persians at Muṣayyakh, Thanī and Zumayl.20 The battle of Firāḍ was next in line; however, before we continue, it would be useful to highlight certain important points that arise from the narrative of Ṭabarī on the progress of Khālid up to Zumayl. After all, we believe the extraction of certain general conclusions regarding the history of the Arab conquests is possible, even though scholars have justifiably raised concerns about the use of the futūḥ literature (the narratives about the early Islamic conquests) as a source for military history.21 15

16

17 18 19 20 21

Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 221 (The History, p. 30): ‫ وأكثروا القتل؛ فنادى‬،‫ فافتتحوا الدور والدّيرات‬،‫ وصبّح أمير ك ّل قوم أصحابه بمثل ذلك‬،‫ثم بثّوا غارتهم فيمن يليهم‬ ... ‫ قد قبلنا‬،‫ يا معشر العرب‬:‫ فنادى أهل القصور‬.‫غيركم‬ ُ ‫ ما يقتلنا‬،‫ يا أهل القصور‬:‫القسّيسون والرهبان‬ [“Then the Muslims launched their attack against those [outside] who belonged to the people in the fortresses. The commander of each group of troops greeted his men with the like of that in the morning, so that they conquered the [enemy’s] houses and monasteries and slew many [of them]. The priests and monks therefore called out, ‘O people of the fortresses, it is only you who are killing us!’ At this, the people of the fortresses shouted, ‘O Arabs, we now accept…’”]. The above tactic was, as Musil explains, commonly used among the Bedouins when they would attack towns in order to conquer rather than to extract regular tribute. See Alois Musil, The Middle Euphrates (New York, 1927), p. 288. For the siege of Ḥīrah see also: Lawrence I. Conrad, “The Quṣur of Medieval Islam: Some Implications for the Social History of the Near East,” al-Abhāth 29 (1981), p. 20 (Cf. Irfan Shahīd, Byzantium and the Arabs in the Sixth Century. Toponymy, Monuments, Historical Geography, and Frontier Studies, vol. 2, part 1 (Washington, D.C., 2002), pp. 74–75). It must be mentioned here that the reference of Theophanes to the conquest of Ḥīra in the year 612 is in no way related to the present incident. The Byzantine historian is referring to the conquest of a military encampment of Arab Byzantine allies in Palestine. See Walter E. Kaegi, Byzantium and the Early Islamic Conquests (Cambridge, 1992), pp. 55, 90–92. For the term ḥīra, see Shahīd, Byzantium, vol. 2/1, p. 65. Morony, Iraq, p. 224. For the oasis of ‘Ayn Tamr see Morony, Iraq, p. 154. For its location, see The History, p. 58, n. 327. Cf. Donner, Islamic Conquests, p. 185. Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, pp. 229–36 (The History, pp. 49–67). Lawrence I. Conrad, “The Conquest of Arwād: A Source-Critical Study in the Historiography of the Early Medieval Near East,” in The Byzantine and Early Islamic Near East: I.



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1) A key role in the defense of the region was played by the Christian Arab tribes of Mesopotamia. This was reasonable as Arabic-speaking tribes were the dominant population in the region. In all his battles against the Persians, with the exception of Ḥuṣayd, Khālid also faced Arabs who fought on the side of the Sassanids. The siege of Ḥīrah in particular, after the retreat of its Persian administrator Āzādhbih,22 essentially became a clash between Christian and Muslim Arabs. It is a well-known fact that until 602, Hirah had been the capital of the Arab Lakhmid kingdom. In that year its king was deposed and executed by the Sasanian emperor, and by 617, after significant fighting, the territories were fully annexed into the empire.23 The help provided by the Christian Arabs of the region to the Persians led Donner to describe the entire operation as a “continuation of the Ridda wars – the subjection by the Islamic state of the Arab tribes.”24 These facts influenced Khālid in his decision to impose a policy of terror on the defeated Christian Arabs with the express purpose of preventing the local populations from cooperating with the armies of Ctesiphon. The execution of the tribal chief ‘Aqbah b. Qays al-Namarī was the most salient, though not the only, example of this tactic. The same fate was in store for all the defenders of ‘Ayn al-Tamr despite their decision to surrender the fortress to the Muslim general.25 However, far from achieving its objective, Khālid’s policy had the exact opposite result: The executions and kidnappings of tribal leaders of the Christian Arabs galvanized their will to fight against the Muslim armies.26 It is possible that the energetic activity displayed by the Christian Arab tribes of

22 23 24

25 26

Problems in the Literary Source Material, eds. Averil Cameron, Lawrence I. Conrad (New Jersey, 1992), pp. 317–401. Albrecht Noth-Lawrence I. Conrad, The Early Arabic Historical Tradition: A Source-Critical Study, trans. Michael Bonner, 2nd ed. (Princeton, 1994). Hugh Kennedy, The Armies of the Caliphs. Military and Society in the Early Islamic State (London, New York, 2002), p. 3. Shoshan, Historical Tradition. Ayman S. Ibrahim, The Stated Motivations for the Early Islamic Expansion (622–641). A Critical Revision of Muslims’ Traditional Portrayal of the Arab Raids and Conquests (New York, 2018), pp. 10–11. On him, see Morony, Iraq, pp. 151–52. Regarding this city, see Isabel Toral-Niehoff, Al-Ḥīra. Eine arabische Kulturmetropole im spätantiken Kontext (Leiden, Boston, 2014). Donner, Islamic Conquests, p. 177. See also: Abd Al-Husain Zarrinkūb, “The Arab Conquest of Iran and Its Aftermath,” in The Cambridge History of Iran, vol. 4, ed. Richard N. Frye (Cambridge, 1975), p. 6. Kennedy, Arab Conquests, p. 105. Ibrahim, Stated Motivations, p. 142. See Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 231 (The History, p. 55). Khalīfa b. Khayyāṭ, Ta’rīkh, ed. Akram Ḍiyā’ al‘Umarī (Riyadh, 1985), p. 118. Ya‘qūbī, al-Ta’rīkh, p. 150. See for example: Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, pp. 227, 233 (The History, pp. 21, 61): ‫ولما أصاب خالد يوم الولجة من أصاب من بكر بن وائل من نصاراهم الذين أعانوا أهل فارس غضب لهم نصارى‬ ‫ي وبالبشر في عسكر‬ ّ ‫ ونزل ربيعة بن بجير بالثن‬،‫قومهم؛ فكاتبوا األعاجم… الهذيل بن عمران قد عسكر بالمصيّخ‬ .‫ضبا لعقّة‬ [“When on the Day of al-Walajah Khālid had taken captive certain of the Christians of the Bakr b. Wā’il who had helped the Persians, the (other) Christians among their people became enraged on their account. Therefore they corresponded with the Persians…al-Hudhayl b. ‘Imrān had gathered troops at al-Muṣayyakh and Rabī‘ah b. Bujayr was encamped

6

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the region could throw into doubt the widely accepted opinion among modern historians that the annexation of the kingdom of the Lakhmids by the Sassanids was a significant strategic error on their part, an error for which they would pay dearly in the period of Islamic expansion.27 However, it must be noted that these moves by the Christian Arabs would have been more effective had they been orchestrated and executed by a centralized authority: The fact that each Arab tribe in the region acted almost autonomously contributed to Khālid’s operational advantage, as due to the military fragmentation of the enemy forces he managed to utilize the concentration of his forces to its greatest extent. A characteristic example of this is the final stage of Khālid’s advance, after the victory at ‘Ayn al-Tamr, when the Arab general defeated four different enemy armies before they converged as planned. 2) At the same time, it is necessary to note the consequences of the mutual suspicion between the ranks of the Persians and their Arab allies on their shared defensive operations. In this regard the plan of the Persian administrator Mihrān shortly before the conquest of ‘Ayn al-Tamr by the forces of Khālid is notable. In particular, the Iranian general sent his Arab allies to face the Muslims, while retaining his Persian forces in the rear. In response to the reaction of the Sassanid warriors [“What made you say these words to this dog (i.e. the leader of the allied Arab troops)?” 28] he said that even if their Arab allies were defeated, they would exhaust Khālid’s army, which would make their task easier, in turn.29 Similar disdain of the Persian military leadership for their Arab allies was evident in the words of the Persian general Shīrzādb, who, in his apology for the surrender of Anbār, said: “I was among a people who had no minds [i.e. his Arab allies]! Their origin is from the Arabs. I heard them at their coming pronouncing upon themselves a sentence [of defeat].”30 Also, the Iranian general who faced Khālid at the battle of Kāẓimah, Hurmuz, had a notably tense relationship with the Arab inhabitants of the regions, to such an extent, in fact, that: “He had become a proverbial paragon of wickedness to them, so that they would say, ‘More wicked than Hurmuz’ and ‘More ungrateful than Hurmuz’.”31 The poor relations between the Persians and their Arab allies not only made the

27

28 29 30 31

at al-Thiny and at al-Bishr with troops. Both were angry on account of ‘Aqqah”]. See also: Donner, Islamic Conquests, pp. 182–85. John B. Glubb, The Great Arab Conquests (London, 1963), p. 125. Zarrinkūb, “Arab Conquest of Iran,” pp. 3–4, 18. Donner, Islamic Conquests, p. 172. David Nicolle, Medieval Warfare Source Book: II. Christian Europe and its Neighbours (London, 1996), pp. 15, 23. Jamsheed K. Choksy, Conflict and Cooperation. Zoroastrian Subalterns and Muslim Elites in Medieval Iranian Society (New York, 1997), p. 14. Peter Crawford, The War of the Three Gods. Romans, Persians, and the Rise of Islam (New York, 2014), pp. 80, 99. Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 231 (The History, p. 53): .‫ما حملك على أن تقول هذا القول لهذا الكلب‬ Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 231 (The History, pp. 53–54). Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 230 (The History, p. 51): .‫ فسمعتهم مقدمهم علينا يقضون على أنفسهم‬،‫ وأصلهم من العرب‬،‫إنّي كنت في قوم ليست لهم عقول‬ Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 213 (The History, p. 12):



The Battle of Firāḍ

7

defenders’ task more difficult, but also offered valuable allies for Khālid: For example, after the conquest of Ḥīrah he recruited a number of its (Arab) inhabitants as scouts for his army.32 It is clear that the contribution of these men was invaluable, especially as the Muslims advanced further north. 3) Despite the accounts of Ṭabarī’s main source regarding this campaign, those of Sayf b. ‘Umar, describing the numerical superiority of the Persians, there exists evidence that throws into doubt the veracity of these numbers.33 Let us first examine the numbers as they have been given. Khālid commanded a force of 18,000 men at the beginning of his campaign,34 and, according to the written sources, he fought a force of more than 30,000 men at the battle of Madhār35 and one of over 70,000 at the battle of Ullays36 (the two battles for which Ṭabarī gives us an exact number of defenders). On the other hand, however, the same source allows us to question the degree of numerical superiority enjoyed by the Persians, and just how consistent this situation was, in their battles against the Muslims: just prior to the battle of Walajah, Khālid exhorted his troops to “avoid negligence and overconfidence.”37 It is possible that the earlier victories generated overconfidence amongst Khālid’s men. Even so, however, these victories would be unlikely to cause such arrogance in an army which was bound to face enemy formations of significantly greater manpower.38 This is also indirectly confirmed by the fact that in most of these engagements Khālid mainly came up against the Arab allies of the Persians: given that an average tribe was capable of fielding roughly a thousand men, and that even the Ghassanids (the power of whom could not be matched by any of the nomadic tribes of Iraq) could only offer the Byzantines 5,000–8,000 men,39 it becomes clear that these tribes could hardly be expected to have surpassed Khālid’s 18,000 men in manpower. 4) A further piece of information that can be extrapolated from the account of this campaign is the lack of siege equipment in the Muslim army. The inability of Khālid’s forces to organize an effective siege is evident from the tactics he was forced to use at Ḥīrah where, as we saw earlier, it was necessary for him to resort to the destruction of the countryside around the city, thus compel 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39

‫ حتى قالوا‬،‫وكان من أسوأ أمراء ذلك الفرج جوارا للعرب ؛ فك ّل العرب عليه مغيط ؛ قد كانوا ضربوه مثال في ال ُخبث‬: .‫ وأكف َُر من هرمز‬،‫أخبث من هرمز‬ Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 212 (The History, p. 7). Regarding the Arab tribes of the region which joined Khālid, see Donner, Islamic Conquests, pp. 181–82. See on this matter: Caetani, “The Art,” pp. 11–12. Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 212 (The History, p. 9). Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 215 (The History, p. 17). Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 219 (The History, p. 25). Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 216 (The History, p. 20). See also Crawford, Three Gods, pp. 103–04. Shahīd, Byzantium, pp. 24, 48, 58. Also indicative of the number of warriors of the Arab tribes are the battles between Mecca and Medina in the time of the Prophet, see Muhammad Hamidullah, The Battlefields of the Prophet Muhammad (New Delhi, 1992), passim. Ella Landau-­Tasseron, “Features of the Pre-Conquest Muslim Army in the Time of Muḥammad,” in The Byzantine and Early Islamic Near East: III. States, Resources and Armies, ed. Averil Cameron (Princeton, 1995), p. 314.

8

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ling the defenders to negotiate terms. It was one of a number of weaknesses displayed by early Muslim armies in this particular aspect of the art of war,40 which necessitated the reaching of terms of surrender with the conquered settlements, including a yearly tax in exchange for their de facto self-administration. This is evident in this particular campaign by Khālid (not only in the conquest of Ḥīrah but also in those of Anbār and ‘Ayn al-Tamr).41 It is indicative that the only mention by Ṭabarī of a citadel taken by force (a fortress north of Ubullah conquered by Khālid’s second-in-command, al-Muthannā42) is refuted by Khalīfa, who describes yet another treaty between the two sides.43 The above evidence further strengthens the opinion of Nicolle, who sees Khālid as quite possibly “the first Muslim leader to impose the relatively light jizyah tax on enemies who surrendered voluntarily….”44 5) The Persian army was composed largely of infantry. This is an important conclusion that is drawn from Ṭabarī’s account: important because it reveals that the forces with which Khālid’s experienced veterans of the Ridda wars45 had to contend were chiefly Sassanid border forces (garrisons),46 the military worth of which could not be compared to that of the “Imperial” regiments. Indicative of this situation is Khālid’s comment regarding the defenders of Anbār: “I see groups of people [here] who have no knowledge of warfare.”47 At any rate, the reference Ṭabarī makes to the Persian infantry fighting “bound together in chains”48 must not by perceived as an indication of the low military worth of 40

41 42

43 44

45 46 47 48

It is interesting to note here the observation of the sixth-century historian Procopius, see Procopius, De Bello Persico, vol. 1, pars II, ed. Guilielm Dindorf, Corpus Scriptorum Historiae Byzantinae (Bonn, 1833), p. 234: “Σαρακηνοὶ μὲν γὰρ τειχομαχεῖν μέν εἰσιν ἀδύνατοι φύσει”; Procopius, History of the Wars, vol. 1, books 1–2, trans. Henry B. Dewing, Loeb Classical Library (London, New York, 1914), p. 421: “For the Saracens are by nature unable to storm a wall”). It seems that this Byzantine opinion had strong historical foundations, see: Hill, “Mobility,” pp. 117, 134. Kennedy, Armies, p. 6. Caetani, “The Art,” p. 5. Cf. Nicolle, Medieval Warfare, p. 46. For the consequences of this Byzantine belief, see Kaegi, Byzantium, pp. 57, n. 25, 103–04. See also: Musil, Euphrates, p. 290. Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, pp. 214–15 (The History, p. 15). Caetani doubts the extent to which al-Muthannā recognized Khālid as his superior, see Caetani, Annali, p. 994. Regarding the role this tribal chief played in the decision of Medina to initiate the first attack against the Sassanids, see for example Zarrinkūb, “Iran,” pp. 5–6. Khalīfa, Ta’rīkh, p. 118. See also, The History, p. 20, n. 94. David Nicolle, Yarmuk 636AD. The Muslim Conquest of Syria (London, 1994), p. 20. Nicolle’s position is further strengthened by the following passage from Ibn al-Athīr, who writes, referring to the terms between the inhabitants of Ḥīrah and Khālid that (Ibn al-Athīr, al-Kāmil, p. 238): “This was the first jizya extracted from the Persians.” .‫فكانت أول جزية أخذت من الفرس‬ Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 212 (The History, p. 8). Caetani, Annali, p. 915. Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 230 (The History, p. 50): .‫إنّي أرى أقوما ً ال علم لهم بالحرب‬ Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 213 (The History, p. 12): .‫واقترنوا في السالسل‬



The Battle of Firāḍ

9

those forces. Κaegi rightly suggests that the references to chained together refer probably “to soldiers locking shields tightly in order to form the tightest and most solid possible resistance to assault by infantry or cavalry.”49 The “shield wall” in particular was a common anti-cavalry tactic in the medieval period.50 The only instance where cavalry is mentioned in Arab sources is in the region of Baniqya, where the Muslims defeated an enemy army composed exclusively of Persian cavalry under the command of Farrukhbundadh.51 6) The defensive operations of the Persians were negatively impacted both by dynastic disputes and civil conflicts among the Sassanids. Despite the fact that we know Yazdegerd III had assumed the throne from the summer of 632, the preceding civil conflicts52 had contributed significantly to the weakening of the military might of the Iranian empire. Ṭabarī mentions this information, albeit post-dated: “the Persians [were] then at al-Madā’in disputing and supporting [different parties] because of the death of Ardashīr…. The Persians were left split by the death of Ardashīr regarding the kingship but in agreement on fighting Khālid…. Meanwhile, the Persians were overthrowing kings and enthroning others, there being no defensive effort except at Bahurasīr…. After that, they remained unable to agree on anyone to make king.”53 It is our view that such references justify Canard, who sees the weakness of the empires of both the Byzantines and the Persians as the main reason for the success of the Arab conquests.54 7) Throughout the course of the campaign we have constant references to duels with which the battles between the Persians and the Arabs began. These duels, or as Keegan referred to them, “ceremonial encounters of champions”55 could to an extent be studied as remnants of a certain “primitivism” in the 49 50 51

52 53 54

55

Kaegi, Byzantium, p. 127. See also: David Nicolle, European Medieval Tactics: I. The Fall and Rise of Cavalry 450–1260 (Oxford, 2011), p. 21. See for example: Ian P. Stephenson, Romano-Byzantine Infantry Equipment (Stroud, 2011), pp. 149–50. Balādhurī, Futūh al-Buldan, ed. Michael Jan De Goeje, (Leiden, 1866), p. 244; Philip K. Hitti, The Origins of the Islamic State (New York, 1916), p. 392. See also Caetani, Annali, p. 941. The hypothesis that these men were a unit of the elite Sasanian armored cavalry (savaran), which we know the Sassanids had dispatched to Ḥīrah, is particularly attractive: see Nicolle, Medieval Warfare, p. 15. Touraj Daryaee, Sasanian Persia. The Rise and Fall of an Empire (London, New York, 2009), pp. 34 ff. Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 227 (The History, p. 43): ‫وكتب معه إلى أهل فارس وهم بالمدائن مختلفون متساندون لموت أردشير…وكان أهل فارس بموت أردشير مختلفين‬ ‫ مجتمعين على قتال خالد…وأهل فارس يخلعون ويملّكون؛ ليس إالّ الدفع عن ب ُهرسير…قبقوا ال يقدرون‬،‫في الملك‬ .‫على من يملّكونه ممن يجتمعون عليه‬ Marius Canard, “L’expansion arabe: le problème militaire,” in L’Occidente e l’Islam nell’alto Medioevo (Settimane di Studio del Centro Italiano di studi sull’Alto Medioevo XII, 2–8 aprile 1964) (Spoleto, 1965), pp. 37–63. The same opinion has also been expressed by Kennedy, see: Kennedy, Arab Conquests, p. 70. For the scholarly debate on this topic see Donner, Islamic Conquests, pp. 3–9. John Keegan, A History of Warfare (New York, 1994), p. 173.

10

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Arab way of waging war56; the same scholar had labeled the Arabs of the early Islamic expansion “primitive warriors.”57 It would be just as easy to perceive all of these references to duels as another indication of the unreliability of the Arabic accounts as sources for the military history of the Arabic conquests.58 However, we are aware that there was indeed a tradition within the Persian army of sending forward champions to duel, while similar references are also extant in Byzantine sources. The duels between Andreas and two Persian warriors before the battle of Dara (530)59 and the duels of Heraclius in the battle of Nineveh (62760) are only two examples.61 We therefore have reason to believe that duels between Persians and Arabs did in fact take place in the course of the battles,62 though without the importance ascribed to them by the Arabic sources. A notable example of the exaggeration evident in these sources is the account of the battle of Madhār, during the course of which all three of the Persian commanders (the commander of the center, Qārin, and the commanders of the wings, Qubādh and Anūshajān63) fell to Arab warriors in duels,64 thus leaving the army completely leaderless in the battle. We know from Khalīfa, however, that Anūshajān faced the Arabs three years after his supposed death.65 It is therefore surprising and unlikely that the Persian heavy cavalry – one of the heaviest of the period66 – would lose all the duels against the far lighter Arab horsemen. Bivar’s belief that the Persians in the period of the Islamic invasions had not yet

56

57

58 59 60

61

62 63

64 65 66

Caetani also studies these duels within this context. See Caetani, “The Art,” p. 6. It is worth noting that the Arab method of waging war described at this point by Caetani is pointedly similar to the Roman method, as described by Sabin, see: Philip Sabin, “The Face of Roman Battle,” The Journal of Roman Studies 90 (2000), p. 14. Keegan, History, p. 195. See also: Frank R. Trombley, “Military Cadres and Battle During the Reign of Heraclius,” in The Reign of Heraclius (610–641). Crisis and Confrontation, eds. Gerrit J. Reinink and Bernard H. Stolte (Leuven-Paris-Dudley, 2002), pp. 246–47. Shoshan, Historical Tradition, p. 14. Procopius, De Bello Persico, pp. 64–65 (Procopius, History of the Wars, pp. 108–13). Theophanis, Chronographia, pp. 489–90. Nikephoros, Breviarium historicum, ed. and trans. Cyril Mango, Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae 12 (Washington, D.C., 1990), pp. 60–61. For the increasing appearance of accounts of single combat in later Byzantine historiography and its connection with the rise of the military aristocracy, see: Savvas Kyriakidis, “Accounts of Single Combat in Byzantine Historiography: Tenth to Fourteenth Centuries,” Acta Classica 59 (2016), 114–36. Hill, “Mobility,” p. 129. Regarding Qubādh and Anūshajān see Parvaneh Pourshariati, Decline and Fall of the Sasanian Empire. The Sasanian-Parthian Confederacy and the Arab Conquest of Iran (New York, 2008), p. 192. Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 215 (The History, p. 17). Khalīfa, Ta’rīkh, p. 131. Regarding the late Sassanid cavalry, see: Farrokh-Karamian-Maksymiuk, Sasanian Military, pp. 37–41.



The Battle of Firāḍ

11

adopted the use of the stirrup,67 in contrast to their Arab foes,68 could possibly explain these Arab victories, but this belief has been justifiably disputed.69 8) The relationship between the two Arab commanders, Khālid and ‘Iyāḍ, was notably tense. Khālid seems to have been particularly displeased with ‘Iyāḍ’s inability to dominate the Christian Arabs of Dūmat. When he was called to come to the aid of ‘Iyāḍ,70 Khālid, according to Ṭabarī, believed that valuable time had been wasted, time which could have been utilized for the Arab expansion into the heartlands of the Persian Empire.71 We can therefore attribute Khālid’s decision to leave Iyāḍ in the rear (at Ḥīrah) in the later stages of the campaign to this tense relationship.72 9) Finally, it is important to note problems of reliability in Ṭabarī’s main source for this campaign, Sayf b. ‘Umar. This subject has been studied extensively by, among others, Ṭabarī’s translator Kevin Blankinship,73 who concludes

67 68

69

70 71



72 73

Adrian D. H. Bivar, “Cavalry Equipment and Tactics on the Euphrates Frontier,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 26 (1972), p. 290. Regarding the introduction of stirrups into the Byzantine army, from where Bivar hypothesizes that the Arabs learned of them, see Taxiarchis Kolias, Byzantinische Waffen. Ein Beitrag zur Byzantinischen Waffenkunde von den Anfängen bis zur Lateinischen Eroberung (Wien, 1988), p. 206. See for example Nicolle, Medieval Warfare, p. 38. Trombley, “Military Cadres,” pp. 254, 257. Kennedy, Armies, pp. 171–73. Farrokh-Karamian-Maksymiuk, Sasanian Military, p. 57. It must be noted here that the disagreement among historians on this matter is due largely to the fact that: “the lower part of the Sasanian armored equestrian figure at Taq-iBustan (Iran) is too badly damaged to determine whether it was originally equipped with stirrups.” See David A. Graff, The Eurasian Way of War. Military Practice in Seventh Century China and Byzantium (New York, 2016), pp. 150–51, n. 66. Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 232 (The History, p. 57). Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 228 (The History, p. 47): “If not for what the caliph entrusted me with, I would not have saved ‘Iyāḍ. He was grieving and causing grief at Dūmah. There was nothing left to do except to conquer Persia.” .‫ وما كان دون فتح فارس شيء‬،‫ و كان قد شجي وأشجى بدومة‬،‫ي الخليفة لم أتنقّذ عياضا‬ ّ ‫لوال ما عهد إل‬ Regarding the fact that from this point onwards Khālid had developed ambitions to assault Ctesiphon, see Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 233 (The History, p. 61). Caetani believed that the conquest of Ctesiphon already during this stage of the Arabic invasion was possible, see Caetani, Annali, pp. 916–17. Cf. Ibrahim, Stated Motivations, p. 143, who correctly observes: “Khālid was strategic in his decision to stop proceeding into the Persian Empire, as he realized his army of less than 10,000 soldiers would not be able to win.” Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 233 (The History, p. 61). The History, pp. xiv–xxix. See also: Martin Hinds, “The First Arab Conquests in Fārs,” Iran 22 (1984), pp. 48–49. Ella Landau-Tesseron, “Sayf Ibn ‘Umar in Medieval and Modern Scholarship,” Der Islam 67 (1990), 1–26. Kennedy, Arab Conquests, pp. 23–24. Wilferd Madelung, “Sayf b. ‘Umar: Akhbārī and Ideological Fiction Writer,” in Le Shiisme imāmite quarante ans après: Hommage à Etan Kohlberg, eds. Mohammad Ali Amir-Moezzi, Meir M. Bar-Asher and Simon Hopkins (Turnhout, 2009), pp. 325–37. Shoshan, Historical Tradition, pp. 7–8. To the contrary, Pourshariati, believes Sayf to be reliable, at least regarding the Arab attacks against the Persian kingdom. See Pourshariati, Sasanian Empire, passim.

12

Konstantinos Takirtakoglou

that: “the transmissions of al-Ṭabarī from Sayf contained in this volume belong more to the realm of historical romance than to that of history.”74 Having noted the unreliability of Sayf, we can stress a point, by no means the only one, of his account of this particular campaign that allows us to question the historicity of the events described. Khālid is presented as achieving victory over three consecutive armies on three different battlefields (Muṣayyakh, Thanī and Zumayl) utilizing exactly the same tactic: a coordinated (from three different directions) night assault on the enemy encampment.75 This account is implausible, especially after careful examination of maps of the region, which reveals the close proximity of these three locations to each other. Otherwise, we must accept the unlikely event that three enemy armies (which, according to the Persian operational plan, were planning to unite) were immobilized in their encampments, learning of the defeats suffered by their comrades not only without taking care to unite but also without taking the necessary precautions in order not to fall victims to a night assault. Therefore, before we continue it becomes necessary to stress that Sayf’s entire narrative is based on hyperbole. We have many reasons to believe that: A) no major battles took place in its course. B) Khālid’s warriors were numerically superior to any Persian force they encountered, probably throughout the campaign. C) The resistance against which the Arabs contended was composed mostly of Christian Arab allies of the Persians. The numerically minor Persian forces that participated in these battles were mainly border garrisons. D) The conquests of cities and fortresses were in reality treaties between their residents and the Arab invaders. Caetani is thus justified, in our opinion, in seeing this campaign as “a simple razzia against a region almost devoid of defenders.”76 With this brief analysis of Khālid’s campaign complete, we can move on to its epilogue: The battle at al-Firāḍ: Then… Khālid headed for al-Firāḍ. Al-Firāḍ is [on] the border of Syria, Iraq, and al-Jazīrah. He completed the fast of Ramaḍān on that journey… When the Muslims came together at al-Firāḍ, the Romans became hot and angry and sought help from the nearby outposts of the Persians, who had also become hot and angry and sought reinforcements from the Taghlib, Iyād, and Namir. These supplied them with reinforcements, then came to blows with Khālid, so that when the Euphrates was between them they said, “Either cross over to us, or we will cross over to you.” Khālid answered them, “Rather, cross over to us.” They said, “Then back away so that we may cross.” Khālid replied, “We will not do [that], but cross over downriver from us.” That was in the middle of Dhū al-Qa`dah of the year 12 (11 January 634). The Romans and the Persians said to one another: “Keep your sover-

74 75

76

The History, p. xxvii. Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, pp. 234–35 (The History, pp. 63–66). For the supposed inability of the early Arab army to execute night attacks, see for example Trombley, “Military Cadres,” p. 253. Caetani, Annali, p. 1053: “una semplice razzia contro una regione pressochè priva di difensori.”



The Battle of Firāḍ

13

eignty in your own hands. This is a man who is fighting on the basis of religion. He has intelligence and knowledge. By God, he will most definitely be victorious, whereas we will most certainly fail.” But they did not profit from that [advice] and crossed the river below Khalid. When their lines were complete, the Romans said, “Wear distinctive emblems so that we may know from which of us came what was good or bad today,” and they did [this]. Thereupon, they fought a long, hard battle. Then God defeated the enemy. Khalid said to the Muslims, “Press your pursuit of them. Do not grant them any respite.” The cavalry commander would corner a group of them with the spears of his men; having collected them, they would kill them. On the day of al-Firāḍ, one hundred thousand were slain in the battle and the pursuit.77

This passage requires careful analysis. With regard to the geographical position of Firāḍ Musil has identified the location of the fortress as Dura-Europos, near the modern-day Syrian village al-Salihiyah.78 This fortress, according to the account, was controlled by the Byzantines, as they were the first to react to the approach of the Islamic army. However, at another point in Ṭabarī’s account Khālid himself is presented declaring, when called upon to go to the assistance of ‘Iyāḍ, that: “the Persians [then] had a force at al-‘Ayn, another at al-Anbār, and another at al-Firāḍ.”79 So which faction was in control of the fortress, the Byzantines, or the Persians? If we consider the fact that, following the end of the Byzantine–Persian war in 628 the borders returned to the status quo ante bellum80 then we can know with certainty that the fort was in Persian hands. This information on its own, however, is not sufficient to exclude the presence of a Byzantine military force there. It must be mentioned that even after the cessation of hostilities between the two empires, Byzantine forces had remained on the western frontiers of the Sassanid Empire.81 Their role there was twofold: to ensure that the treaty between the two states was honored and to observe the dynastic conflicts that arose following the death of Chosroes II. The proximity, therefore, of Firāḍ to

77

78 79 80 81

Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 236 (The History, pp. 67–68): …‫ فأفطر بها رمضان في تلك السفرة‬،‫ تخوم الشام والعراق والجزيرة‬:‫ والفراض‬،‫ثم قصد خالد… إلى الفراض‬ ‫ وقد حموا‬،‫ واستعانوا بمن يليهم من مسالح أهل فارس‬،‫ حميت الروم واغتاظت‬،‫فل ّما اجتمع المسلمون بالفراض‬ ‫ إ ّما أن‬:‫ قالوا‬،‫واغتاظوا واستمدّوا تغلب وإيادا ً والنمر؛ فأمدّوهم؛ ثم ناهدوا خالداً؛ حتى إذا صار الفرات بينهم‬ ‫ ال نفعل؛ ولكن‬:‫ فتنحّوا حتى نعبر؛ فقال خالد‬:‫ قالوا‬،‫ بل اعبروا إلينا‬:‫ قال خالد‬.‫تعبروا إلينا وإ ّما أن نعبر إليكم‬ ‫ احتسبوا‬:‫ فقالت الروم وفارس بعضهم لبعض‬.‫ وذلك للنصف من ذي القعدة سنة اثنتي عشرة‬.‫اعبروا أسفل منّا‬ ّ ّ ‫ ثم لم ينتفعوا بذلك؛ فعبروا أسفل من‬.‫ولنخذلن‬ ‫ُنصرن‬ ‫ ووهللا لي‬،‫ وله عقل وعلم‬،‫ هذا رجل يقاتل على دين‬،‫ملككم‬ ‫ فاقتتلوا‬،‫ امتازوا حتى نعرف اليوم ما كان من حسن أو قبيح؛ من أيّنا يجيء! ففعلوا‬:‫خالد؛ فل ّما تتا ّموا قالت الروم‬ ّ ‫إن هللا‬ ّ ‫ ثم‬.ً‫قتاال شديدا ً طويال‬ ‫ ألحّوا عليهم وال تُرفّهوا عنهم؛ فجعل صاحب‬:‫ وقال خالد للمسلمين‬،‫عز وج ّل هزمهم‬ ّ ‫الخيل يحشر منهم‬ ‫ فقُتل يوم الفراض في المعركة وفي الطلب مائة‬،‫ فإذا جمعوهم قتلوهم‬،‫الزمرة برماح أصحابه‬ …‫ألف‬ Musil, Euphrates, pp. 10–12, 313. See also: The History, p. 47, n.264. Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 228 (The History, p. 47): ‫وكان بالعين عسكر لفارس وباألنبار آخر وبالفراض آخر‬. Walter E. Kaegi, Heraclius. Emperor of Byzantium (Cambridge, 2003), pp. 179–80, 213. Kaegi, Heraclius, pp. 219, 249–50, 258. See also: Kaegi, Byzantium, pp. 41, 154–57.

14

Konstantinos Takirtakoglou

the Byzantine border makes the presence of a small Byzantine presence in the area quite likely. The account presents the Byzantines as the organizers of the defense against the Arabs. They called the Persians to arms. For what reason, though? Here we must mention the following: The battle at Firāḍ is presented as taking place in January of 634. The Islamic invasion of the Byzantine Empire began later, in the spring of the same year.82 Up until that point only minor skirmishes between the Byzantines and Arabs had taken place in southern Syria.83 It is therefore unlikely that the imperial court in Constantinople had the time to send military forces to the region with the express purpose of carrying out operations against the Muslims. This reinforces the hypothesis that the Byzantines described in the account were a small garrison and not a noteworthy military force. If this observation is considered to be true, as we believe it should be, it should also be noted that the base of this garrison would certainly be located at the relatively close (around 55 kilometers away) Byzantine border fortress of Circesium (the modern-day Syrian settlement of Busayrah), which “marked the southeastern limits of the empire along the Euphrates.”84 It is certain–if we take the Byzantine presence as a given–that they perceived the Muslim attack as a nomadic raiding expedition.85 However, might there have been a bilateral agreement in effect between the Byzantines and the Persians regarding the common defense of their southern borders from Arab raiders, an agreement similar to that which we know existed in regard to the defense of the Caspian Gates?86 The existence of such a treaty would perhaps explain the abandonment of the Lakhmids and the Ghassanids by their former masters. However, there is no evidence for such an agreement being reached after the long Byzantine–Persian wars. Furthermore, the text makes absolutely no mention of the commanders of the allied Byzantine-Iranian forces. The only conclusion any scholar could reach with a degree of certainty is that the Byzantines were in overall operational control. After all, they not only called upon the Persians, but also suggested the use of different emblems with the purpose of fostering a friendly rivalry between the allies.87 Why, though, did the Persian army acquiesce to being commanded by the commander of a mere garrison? This question, in combination with 82 83 84 85

86 87

Or, as Donner and certain others believe, in the spring of 633, see: Donner, Islamic Conquests, p. 113. See for example Donner, Islamic Conquests, p. 111. Kaegi, Byzantium, p. 150. We must therefore reject the unreliable dialogue between the Persians and the Byzantines, based on a common topos, which presupposed their defeat due to Khālid “fighting on the basis of religion”: see Noth-Conrad, Arabic Historical Tradition, p. 205; Shoshan, Historical Tradition, pp. 63–64. Katerina Synéllē, Oi diplōmatikés skhéseis Vyzantíou kai Persías éōs ton St΄ Aiṓna (Athens, 1986), pp. 99 ff. Friendly rivalry between allies oftentimes contributed to victories on the battlefields of the Medieval period, a notable example being the battle of Bathys Ryax between the Byzantines and the Paulicians. See Joseph Genesius, Regum libri quattuor, ed. Anni Lesmüller-



The Battle of Firāḍ

15

the complete absence of names of commanders of the Persians and Christian Arabs (names which up until this point Sayf has unerringly provided, even if they provoke disbelief, such as Mihrān b. Bahrām Jūbīn88) throws into doubt the presence of Iranian troops. We must furthermore wonder why any present Persian forces would not have endeavored to head south in order to unite with the forces of the Persian commanders Rūzbih and Zarmihr or with the men of the commanders of the Christian Arabs, Ibn ‘Imrān and Ibn Bujayr. It must be noted here that after the Arabic assault on Dūmat the Persian plan was to have these four armies unite,89 a plan which Khālid managed to upend, having defeated each army in detail. The existence, then, in that location of a notably large Sassanid force that had not been included in the Persian operational plan is quite unlikely. We can therefore assume that, if Persian soldiers and their Arab allies took part in the battle, they may have been the survivors from the previous Iranian defeats south of Firāḍ (the battles of Muṣayyakh, Thanī and Zumayl) who had sought refuge in the area of jurisdiction of the Byzantine garrison.90 This might explain why the Persians agreed to fight under Byzantine orders. Taking all of this information into consideration, it becomes clear that we have a number of reasons to dispute the reliability of the account.91 Two further elements contribute to this. They are the astronomical92 number of allied casualties (over 100,000!), and the dialogue between the allies and the Muslims that preceded the battle regarding the fording of the river, which is an almost exact duplication of the narration from a previous battle between the forces of al-Muthannā and Mihrān.93 Historians have generally been skeptical of this account. Few accept Sayf’s account of the battle of Firāḍ. Akram, in his biography of Khālid, (in which it is worth noting that he rarely questions the veracity of information gained from the sources) accepts Sayf’s account, noting however that “This was neither a great nor a decisive battle; nor was the enemy force a very large one, as some early historians have stated.”94 At any rate, Akram is not the only historian who

88 89 90

91 92

93 94

Werner & Hans Thurn, Corpus Fontium Historiae Byzantinae vol. 14 (Berlin, 1973), pp. 86–88. See for this case The History, p. 53. n. 289. Cf. Pourshariati, Sasanian Empire, p. 201. Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 233 (The History, pp. 59–60). Morony believes they were Christian Arab allies of the Persians under the command of Hilāl b. ‘Aqqa which approached the Byzantine frontier after the defeat at Zumayl, and that they were the organizers of the joint Byzantine-Iranian operation. See Morony, Iraq, p. 225. For the formulaic motifs and factual discrepancies recurring in this account of the battle of al-Firāḍ see: Noth-Conrad, Arabic Historical Tradition, pp. 205–06. In order for the magnitude of the overstatement to be made clear, it is enough to mention that according to Kaegi the Byzantine troops stationed in Syria and Northern Mesopotamia were not more than 18,000 men. See Kaegi, Byzantium, p. 40. Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 289 (The History, p. 204). Agha I. Akram, The Sword of Allah: Khalid bin al-Waleed, His Life and Campaigns

16

Konstantinos Takirtakoglou

believes that the battle of Firāḍ took place. Morony is of the same opinion,95 while Crawford, despite considering this particular battle to be “the least reliable of Khalid’s recorded moves.” seems to accept the account, expressing serious reservations regarding the presence of Byzantine forces in the battle, however.96 The battle of Firāḍ is also accepted by Pourshariati who, according to her chronological reconstruction, dates it to 630.97 She connects the presence of Byzantine troops with the alliance between Heraclius and Shahrvarāz, hypothesizing however that, due to the state of the Byzantine army in that period the Byzantine assistance provided to the Persians must not have been significant. It is necessary here to make a brief reference to the reasons for which we reject this position of the otherwise exceptional study carried out by Pourshariati. She chooses to accept the datings given by the Arabic sources that are based on the reigns of the Sassanid kings, and rejects the hijri datings of the same sources, which are in most cases contradictory.98 In brief, however, we can say that her chronological reconstruction of the events causes more problems than it seeks to remedy, a fact recognized by Pourshariati herself.99 Her skepticism regarding the hijri datings might be justified, but the rejection of a chronological system based on the reigns of the early caliphs (which the Arabic sources offer) in favor of a chronological system based on contemporary Arabic knowledge of the dynastic history of Iran, in this notably politically unstable period in history, is, in our opinion, a mistake. Any historian who posits that the first raids into Iraq took place between 628-632, in the final years of the life of Muhammad, must also explain the complete lack of references to any contribution by the Prophet in the conquest of Iraq in Arab sources, such as the important Kitab al-Maghāzī of Wāqidī (a work that records the military activities of the Prophet), which includes the later, according to Pourshariati, battle of Mu’tah.100 This is only one of the many problems due to which we have decided to reject Pourshariati’s position, though her work remains exceptionally useful for the study of Iran during this period. A third group of historians completely rejects the historicity of the battle at Firāḍ. Caetani, after a critical assessment of the Arabic sources, arrived at the conclusion that all the references in Sayf regarding Khālid’s campaign after the capitulation of Ḥīrah are in fact an “imaginary” [fantastica] military campaign.101 Noth believes that the reference to this battle merely hides “one of the usual

(Lahore, 1969), ch. 26, p. 4. Morony, Iraq, p. 225. 96 Crawford, Three Gods, p. 107. 97 Pourshariati, Sasanian Empire, pp. 201–02. 98 Pourshariati, Sasanian Empire, p. 161 ff. 99 Pourshariati, Sasanian Empire, p. 283. 100 See Wāqidī, Kitāb al-Maghāzī, vol. 2, ed. Marsden Jones (Oxford, 1966), pp. 755–69 (The Life of Muḥammad. Al-Wāqidī’s Kitāb al-Maghāzī, ed. Rizwi Faizer, trans. Rizwi Faizer, Amal Ismail and AbdulKader Tayob [London, 2013], pp. 372–78). 101 Caetani, Annali, p. 997. 95



The Battle of Firāḍ

17

raids of the early period.”102 Donner, in his study, despite mentioning the existence of references to Khālid’s campaign to Circesium (Qarqīsuyā’),103 not once refers to the tradition regarding the battle at Firāḍ. No reference to the battle of Firāḍ is to be found in Kaegi either, though in his work on Heraclius he says: “Muslim accounts of their conquest of Iraq refer to the presence of Byzantine troops and commanders among the opposing forces.”104 The same is true for Kennedy,105 Hoyland,106 and Zarrinkub.107 Crone, also, in her entry on Khālid in the Encyclopaedia of Islam, expresses a general skepticism as to whether Khālid was in fact the leader of the expedition against Iraq, and therefore does not address the battles which this operation comprised.108 Fück considers the account of the battle “dubious.”109 We, in turn, could add a further hypothesis. There is a possibility that behind the account of Khālid’s almost legendary victory with the 100,000 enemy casualties hides a minor failure of the famed Arab general. As we observed previously, there are serious reasons to doubt the existence of Persian forces at the battle of Firāḍ, and even if they were present, they were most likely disorganized Persian and Christian Arab elements which escaped to a region guarded by a Byzantine garrison after the earlier Persian defeats. The crucial question is why Khālid chose to assault a Byzantine border force when his goal was the conquest of Persian Iraq and his declared ambition was to advance against Ctesiphon. We believe the answer to this question must be connected with Khālid’s later orders to assist the Arab forces that had been tasked with attacking the Byzantine Empire. In particular, Khālid was ordered by the caliph to advance into Syria upon his return to Ḥīrah (and after a lightning journey he had supposedly undertaken after the battle of Firāḍ, according to a number of Arabic sources, in order to complete his pilgrimage to Mecca110). It is a well-known fact that Khālid, in order to fulfill the caliph’s orders, chose to undertake his legendary march through the desert.111 He may, however, have

Noth-Conrad, Arabic Historical Tradition, p. 205. Donner, Islamic Conquests, p. 188. 104 Kaegi, Heraclius, p. 258. 105 Kennedy, Byzantium, pp. 104–05. 106 Robert G. Hoyland, In God’s Path. The Arab Conquests and the Creation of an Islamic Empire (Oxford, 2015), pp. 49–51. 107 Zarrinkūb,“Iran,” p. 8. 108 Crone, “Khālid,” pp. 928–29. 109 Johann W. Fück, “Iyād,” in The Encyclopaedia of Islam, eds. Emeri Johannes van Donzel, Bernard Lewis, Charles Pellat, Clifford Edmund Bosworth, vol. 4, 2nd ed. (Leiden, 1997), p. 289. 110 Regarding the reasons for which we must reject this information, see for example Musil, Euphrates, p. 311. 111 For a detailed account of Khālid’s route and the contradictory information of the sources: Caetani, Annali, pp. 1213–36. Hill, “Mobility,” p. 193 ff.; Donner, Islamic Conquests, pp. 119–27. The contradictions in the sources led Lynch to reject the entire account of the desert march as a “literary device.” See Ryan Lynch, “Linking Information, Creating a 102 103

18

Konstantinos Takirtakoglou

first attempted to advance into Syria by following the Euphrates112 and then heading south to Qadma or Suwa. Such an itinerary meant he necessarily would have had to have passed by Firāḍ and faced the Byzantine garrison stationed there. Perhaps, then, before deciding on the risky advance into Syria through the desert, he attempted to follow a more northerly route. However, Byzantine resistance in combination with the fact that Khālid was pressed for time ultimately led to the abandonment of this plan. This is just a hypothesis, which, however, does have evidence to support it. First of all, simply the fact that the account of the battle at Firāḍ contains so many dubious elements, such as the number of casualties and the absence of reference to the names of commanders of the allied forces, gives rise to the suspicion that Islamic historiography has attempted to cover up another, less glorious, event. Furthermore, the words reportedly spoken by Khālid himself upon learning the caliph’s orders must also engender skepticism. According to Ṭabarī he declared: “How is there a way for me by which I will emerge behind the Roman forces, for if I face them directly, they will block me from relieving the Muslims?.”113 What were the Byzantine forces located between Qurāqir (Khālid’s starting point on his advance into Syria) and Suwā (his first stop after the desert)? The only answer is the fortress at Circesium and its men, who were stationed at Firāḍ. A further clue that suggests Khālid had been defeated by the Byzantines at Firāḍ is the declaration of the caliph when he decided to send Khālid into Syria: “By God, I will certainly make the Romans forget the whisperings of the devil about Khālid b. al-Walīd.”114 It is, of course, rather more likely that Abū Bakr was referring to the Battle of of Mu’tah, in which Khālid was the only Arab commander to escape from the Byzantines alive.115 Apart from the accounts we referred to above there is also an extant Arabic source that fully supports our hypothesis. According to Wāqidī: “Khālid started from Suwa to al-Kawathil thence to Karkisiya whose chief met him with a large host. Khalid left him alone, turned to the mainland and went his way.”116 Here

112

113 114 115 116

Legend. The Desert March of Khālid b. al-Walīd,” Lights: The Messa Journal 2.2 (2013), p. 37. This was, after all, the usual route followed by the opposing armies in the course of the Byzantine–Persian conflicts. See for example the route followed by Julian for Ctesiphon, which went through Circesium and Dura-Europos, or the route taken by the armies of Kavadh from Circesium to Apamea in Syria, see Katarzyna Maksymiuk, Geography of Roman–Iranian Wars. Military Operations of Rome and Sasanian Iran (Siedlce, 2015), pp. 55, 65. Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 253 (The History, p. 113): .‫كيف لي بطريق أخرج فيه من وراء جموع الروم! فإنّي إن استقبلتُها حبستني عن غياث المسلمين‬ Ṭabarī, Ta ̉rīkh, p. 252 (The History, p. 112): ّ ُ ‫وهللا األ‬ .‫وساوس الشيطان بخالد بن الوليد‬ ‫نسين الروم‬ َ For this battle see: Kaegi, Byzantium, pp. 71–74. Kennedy, Arab Conquests, p. 71. Powers, Muḥammad, p. 72 ff. Balādhurī, Futūh, p. 111 (Hitti, The Origins, p. 171):



The Battle of Firāḍ

19

the following information, which confirms our hypothesis, is made clear: a) The attack in the region of Qarqisya must be connected with Khālid’s advance from Iraq into Syria. b) The reaction came from the commander of Circesium (Ṣāḥibu-ha), that is, the Byzantines. c) The Byzantine forces necessitated Khālid’s retreat and choice of a different route for advance into Syria. However, is Wāqidī more reliable than Sayf? The answer is given by Kaegi, among others, who writes: “The most reliable traditions appear to be those of al-Wāqidī…while those of Sayf b. ‘Umar and Ibn A‘tham al-Kūfī are less reliable but sometimes indispensable.”117 In contrast to Kaegi, Musil, in studying this particular passage of Wāqidī concludes that it exhibits a clear lack of knowledge on the historian’s part regarding Khālid’s expedition.118 His skepticism is rightfully caused by the reference to the march from Suwa (the first station for Khālid’s forces after they exited the desert) to Circesium, but we do not believe this to be sufficient reason to reject the entire account, especially as Khālid’s attack at Circesium is mentioned by Abū Yūsuf’s separate, unrelated to Wāqidī, account. In particular, Abū Yūsuf mentions that after Khālid had received the order to march into Syria, he began his advance by conquering every fortress in his path until “until he arrived at Qarqisya [Circesium], plundering and looting its countryside. He enslaved the women and children, killed the men and besieged its inhabitants for days. Afterwards they sent an envoy to seek peace, which he accepted ….”119 Abū Yūsuf’s account thus supports the fact that Khālid moved against Circesium in the course of his advance into Syria, even if we have to reject the conquest of the fortress, as we know it was conquered at a later date.120 We can, however, accept the looting raids of the surrounding countryside by the Arab army as such activity would provide an excellent explanation for why “the Romans became hot and angry” with the Arab approach into the region, as mentioned by Ṭabarī. At any rate, Khālid’s failure to achieve victory over a small Byzantine garrison should not be met with surprise, as we know that the forces he had at his disposal, during his march into Syria, were minor (between 500 and 800 men121). This defeat could also provide sufficient answer to the question posed by Hill, who, in researching the exact route followed by Khālid, wonders: “why .‫خرج خالد من سوى إلى الكواثل ثم أتى قرقيسيا فخرج إليه صاحبها في خلق فتركه وانحاز إلى البر ومضى لوجهه‬ Kaegi, Byzantium, p. 10. See also: Caetani, Annali, p. 993. 118 Musil, Euphrates, p. 305: “This account by the best representative of the school of al-Medīna is a proof of how little has known in al-Medīna of the various incidents of Ḥāled’s campaigns and of the inability of the al-Medīna historians to arrange these events in their correct order in time and place.” 119 Abū Yūsuf, Kitāb al-Kharāj, ed. Dār al-Ma‘rifa (Beirut, 1979), p. 147: ‫ثم مضى حتى أتى الى بالد قرقيسياء فأغار على ما حولها فأخذ االموال وسبى النساء والصبيان وقتل الرجال وحاصر‬ .‫ ثم انهم بعثوا يطلبون الصلح فأجابهم إلى ذلك‬.‫أهلها أياما‬ 120 Donner, Islamic Conquests, p. 227. 121 Donner, Islamic Conquests, p. 126. See also: Nicolle, Yarmuk, p. 46. Kennedy, Arab Conquests, p. 75.

117

20

Konstantinos Takirtakoglou

follow a difficult route through the desert when he could have followed the river to the high road?.”122 The same historian, due precisely to this uncertainty, places Qurāqir and Suwā in new positions. The only possible impediment to the acceptance of our hypothesis is the chronological gap between the attack at Firāḍ (January 634) and Khālid’s advance into Syria (Spring 634). We must not forget, however, the chronological uncertainty which exists in the Arabic sources regarding this particular campaign of Khālid, along with the matter of the chronological placement of his march from Iraq to Syria.123 Regarding the latter point, it is indicative that a group of sources places the conquest of ‘Ayn Tamr during Khālid’s march to Syria; Ya‘qūbī, for example, writes: “Abū Bakr wrote to Khālid b. al-Walīd to march to Syria. and when he found himself at ‘Ayn Tamr he encountered ‘Aqbah ibn Abi Hilāl al-Numarī who was commander of the Persians ….”124 Donner’s description is indicative of the contradictory nature of the Arabic sources: “The details of this campaign (i.e., Khālid’s moves after Dūma) can be sorted out only with partial success because localities and groups contracted are generally woven into accounts of Khālid’s march to Syria.”125 It must at any rate be accepted that Khālid was in Syria in the summer of 634, as he was one of the commanders of the Muslim army which defeated the Byzantines at the battle of of Ajnādyn.126 To summarize, we believe the account of the battle at Firāḍ describes a confrontation between the Byzantines and the Arabs, in which if any Persian forces took part, they were most likely remnants of the previous battles which had retreated to the relative safety of the Byzantine fortress. Khālid moved against the fortress after receiving orders from Mecca to march into Syria. However, upon encountering superior forces he was obliged to retreat and undertake a dangerous journey through the desert. This failure by Khālid was disguised as a victory of legendary proportions in Arabic historiography, in which he defeated two great enemies of the Muslims at the same time, causing over one hundred thousand casualties. This is not the only case in which historians of the medieval period would attempt to hide a defeat: The same exact attempt was made by the Arab historiographers with the first defeat of the Islamic army at the hands of the Byzantines at the Battle of Mu’tah127 or with the defeat at the Battle of the Bridge.128

Hill, “Mobility,” p. 195. Regarding this matter, see: Donner, Islamic Conquests, pp. 124–26. 124 Ya‘qūbī, al-Ta’rīkh, p. 150: ‫كتب ابو بكر إلى خالد بن الوليد ان يسير الى الشام…فل ّما صار الى عين التمر لقى رابطة لكسرى عليهم عقبة بن ابى‬ …‫هالل النمرى‬ 125 Donner, Islamic Conquests, pp. 187–88. See also: Caetani, Annali, p. 1193. Hill, “Mobility,” p. 193. Kennedy, Arab Conquests, p. 78. 126 Regarding this battle, see Donner, Islamic Conquests, pp. 129–30. Kaegi, Byzantium, pp. 98–100. Nicolle, Yarmuk, pp. 48–50. Hoyland, God’s Path, p. 43. 127 Powers, Muḥammad, p. 80. 128 Choksy, Conflict, p. 149, n.6. 122 123

2 A Mislocated Battlefield? Battle Flats: The Battle of Stamford Bridge, 1066 Michael C. Blundell

The Battle of Stamford Bridge, fought 25 September 1066, was a decisive victory for the English led by Harold Godwinson over an invading Norwegian army commanded by Harald Sigurdsson. Although details of the battle have been debated for decades, the location of the battlefield is traditionally believed to have been a large meadow located east of the Derwent River near the town of Stamford Bridge known as Battle Flats. Original written sources that describe the battle do not mention Battle Flats nor is there any archaeological evidence that confirms it as the location of the battle. Despite this lack of evidence, most scholars have based their interpretations and reconstructions of the battle on the premise that the local tradition referencing Battle Flats is correct. This paper will demonstrate why this premise may be incorrect and suggest a more credible location west of the Derwent River at Halifax Meadow that aligns more closely with events as described in English, Anglo-Norman and Scandinavian accounts of the battle. According to local tradition, the Battle of Stamford Bridge was fought east of the Derwent River in a meadow referred to as Battle Flats.1 The commonly accepted narrative has the battle beginning in a meadow west of the Derwent River, progressing across Stamford Bridge, where a lone Norwegian defender reportedly held up the entire English army before being killed, and ending at Battle Flats. The dearth of reliable archaeological information has forced scholars to rely primarily on original written sources for reconstructions of the battle.2 Original sources, however, do not reference the actual location of the battlefield. Rather, as DeVries notes, they are “vague on the topography of the battlefield, indicating only the prominence of the Derwent River, a tributary of 1

2

This local tradition is mentioned as early as 1736. Francis Drake, Eboracum: or the History and Antiquities of the City of York, From its Original to the Present Times (London, 1736), p. 84. Anecdotal evidence of “old swords” and “human skeletons” has been reported, but nothing of these finds remain today. See J. J. Sheahan and T. Whellan, History and Topography of the City of York; The East Riding of Yorkshire; and a Portion of the West Riding, vol. 2, (Beverly, 1857), p. 559.

Map 2.1  Stamford Bridge: General Location

Map 2.2  Stamford Bridge: Local Area



Battle Flats: The Battle of Stamford Bridge, 1066

23

the Ouse River, running through the battlefield with a narrow wooden bridge running over it.”3 The general acceptance of Battle Flats as the location of the battle appears to have been based on a single line in Manuscript C of The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. According to the chronicler, “Then Harold, king of the English, moved against them by surprise beyond the bridge, and they clashed together there and were fighting very hard long into the day.”4 However, this passage may possibly have been misconstrued. As Plummer explains, the phrase “beyond the bridge” must be viewed “from the point of view of the enemy. To the English coming from York, they would be on the hither [near] side of the bridge.”5 Plummer does not discuss the subsequent portion of the passage, which appears to provide additional information regarding the battlefield location. The word “there” in the phrase “they clashed together there,” or as Swanton translates, “there they joined battle,” possibly refers to the location west of the bridge where the Norwegians were surprised. When combined with the remainder of the passage, “and were fighting very hard long into the day,” it suggests the main battle was fought west of the bridge and not at Battle Flats. A different local tradition, as well as passages in some original sources, also suggest the main battle may have taken place west of the Derwent rather than at Battle Flats. This alternative local tradition holds that the battle began west of the river in a field originally called “Halifax.” As Leadman reports, “A field near the river is called ‘Halifax’, where local tradition maintains the battle was first commenced.”6 This field may be the location of extensive fighting described by Henry of Huntington in Historia Anglorum, written around sixty years after the battle.7 Although Henry does not mention a specific location, he does describe a lengthy encounter between the English army and Norwegian forces west of the Derwent River. According to Henry, “after fearful assaults on both sides they continued steadfastly until midday, the English superiority in numbers forcing the Norwegians to give way but not to flee. Driven back beyond the river, the living crossing over the dead, they resisted stoutheartedly.”8 Writing more than fifty years after the battle, a second Anglo-Norman writer, Orderic Vitalis, noted that for decades after the battle, the battlefield could easily 3 4

5 6 7

8

Kelly DeVries, The Norwegian Invasion of England in 1066 (Woodbridge, 1999), p. 269. Katherine O’Brien O’Keefe, “Reading the C-Text: The After-Lives of London, British Library, Cotton Tiberius B. i,” in Anglo-Saxon Manuscripts and their Heritage, eds. Phillip Pulsiano and Elaine M. Treharne (London, 1998), pp. 246–88, at p. 259; Michael Swanton, trans. and ed., The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles (New York, 1998), p. 198. Charles Plummer and John Earle, eds., Two of the Saxon Chronicles Parallel: With Supplementary Extracts from the Others, 2 vols. (1899; repr. Oxford, 1965), 2:256. Alexander Leadman, “The Battle of Stamford Bridge,” The Yorkshire Archaeological and Topographical Journal 11 (1891), 131–39, at p. 136 n. 5. Diana E. Greenway, ed. and trans., Henry, Archdeacon of Huntington. Historia Anglorum (History of the English People) (Oxford, 1996), p. xviii; Emily Winkler, Royal Responsibility in Anglo-Norman Historical Writing (Oxford, 2017), p. 17. Henry of Huntingdon, Historia Anglorum, p. 387.

24

Michael C. Blundell

be recognized by travelers “for a great mountain of dead men’s bones still lies there and bears witness to the terrible slaughter on both sides.”9 Local tradition suggests this “great mountain of dead men’s bones” may have been located west of the river. In his discussion of the battle in 1896, Barrett recounts how “many bones of the slain were collected long after the battle from the fields by the river-bank and buried” in what he describes as “a little close, surrounded by a small earthwork and belonging to Bossall Church.”10 This possible burial site is also mentioned in a 1925 newspaper article that states a chapel was erected on the site, the ruins of which are located west of the Derwent near Primrose Hill Farm, more than half a mile away from Battle Flats.11 Although neither Barrett nor Hooper mention their sources, their accounts can be used, together with the statement by Orderic, to suggest the main battle took place on the west side of the Derwent River. Scandinavian source accounts, which must be viewed with caution, state that prior to the battle, the Norwegian army was marching toward York when they encountered the English army.12 Although their veracity is suspect, because they were written approximately 150 years after the battle, they lend some credence to the idea that the main battlefield may have been west of the Derwent. Original written sources provide the primary basis for any reconstruction of the Battle of Stamford Bridge. Unfortunately, there are no existing eye-witness accounts of the battle. When describing the Battle of Stamford Bridge, the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle is often considered to be the most “trustworthy source.” It is comprised of seven separate manuscripts, three of which contain descriptions of the battle, Manuscripts C (MS. C), D (MS. D), and E (MS. E). Despite being considered as annalistic records, the sections in these manuscripts that describe the battle were not written contemporaneously with the event.13 9 10 11

12

13

Marjorie Chibnall, ed. and trans., Orderic Vitalis. Ecclesiastical History of Orderic Vitalis, 6 vols. (New York, 1969), 2:169. C. R. B. Barrett, Battles and Battlefields in England (London, 1896), p. 9. Rev. N. Y. Hooper, “The Parish of Bossall with Buttercrambe,” Sand Hutton & Claxton Chronicle (circa 1925), transcr. A. Kerridge (2002), http://www.genuki.org.uk/big/eng/ YKS/NRY/Bossall/Bossall_Buttercrambe; Hooper states that by 1925, grassy mounds covered the ruins of the chapel and the plot of ground was referred to as Chapel Garth. The chapel outline can be seen on maps by Barrett and Brooks. See Barrett, Battles, p. 8; F. W. Brooks, The Battle of Stamford Bridge (York, 1956), p. 2. Theodore M. Andersson and Kari Ellen Gade, trans., Morkinskinna: The Earliest Icelandic Chronicle of the Norwegian Kings (1030–1157), Islandica 51 (Ithaca, 2000), p. 268; Alison Finlay, trans., Fagrskinna: a Catalogue of the Kings of Norway (Leiden, 2004), p. 224; Alison Finlay and Anthony Faulkes, trans., Snorri Sturluson. Heimskringla III: Magnus Olafsson to Magnus Erlingsson (London, 2015), p. 111; Herman Palsson and Paul Edwards, trans., Orkneyinga Saga: The History of the Earls of Orkney (London, 1978), pp. 77–78. The manuscript accounts were compiled between two and thirty years after the battle. The final passages of MS. C were added nearly one hundred years later. See Patrick W. Conner, ed., The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle: A Collaborative Edition, 10, The Abingdon Chronicle A.D. 956–1066 (Cambridge, 1996), p. lxxi; O’Brien O’Keefe, “Reading the C-Text,” pp. 253–63; David Dumville, “Some Aspects of Annalistic Writing at Canterbury in the Elev-



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The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle accounts, which represent the English version of events, have always been given precedence over other sources despite the fact we have no real knowledge of who compiled the accounts, the identity of their sources, and whether or not these sources provided eye-witness accounts or were simply retelling second- or third-hand stories. In fact, the three manuscript descriptions of the battle differ radically from each other.14 Like other medieval histories, the Chronicle accounts contain errors of fact and omission, distortion of facts, and indications of bias and partisanship.15 Despite often being considered the most trustworthy sources for the Battle of Stamford Bridge, the Chronicle accounts should be used with caution and should not be the sole basis against which descriptions of the battle found in other sources are judged.16 Several Anglo-Norman written sources from the twelfth century contain descriptions of the Battle of Stamford Bridge.17 The descriptions found in these sources are primarily compilations based on a common group of earlier written sources, most notably the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, as well as Bede’s Historia ecclesiastica, some oral sources and each other’s works. In some cases, these writers made use of unknown sources and these may account for details in several of their accounts that are not found elsewhere. Examples pertinent to Stamford Bridge include Henry of Huntington’s mention of significant fighting west of the Derwent, William of Malmesbury’s account of the pursuit of the Norwegians by the English once they had crossed Stamford Bridge, and Orderic’s description of remains from the battle.18 Although these writers are often considered to be historians, though not in the modern sense, their accounts clearly demonstrate the influence of both political and social biases.19 There-

14

15 16

17 18

19

enth and Early Twelfth Centuries,” Peritia 2 (1983), 23–57, at pp. 33–35; Susan Irvine, ed., The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle: A Collaborative Edition 7, MS. E. (Cambridge, 2003), p. xiii; Antonia Gransden, Historical Writing in England, c. 550–c. 1307 (London, 1974), p. 93. See also Pauline Stafford, After Alfred: Anglo-Saxon Chronicles and Chroniclers, 900–1150 (Oxford, 2020), pp. 208, 214, 230. See comments by Conner, The Abingdon Chronicle, pp. xxx–xxxi; O’Brien O’Keeffe, “Reading the C-Text,” p. 260. As Conner discusses, although the initial portion of the text for annal 1066 for MS. C can be collated with the text in MS. D, “the sections on the Battle of Stamford Bridge in segment 9 differ radically in the two manuscripts, and E does not have a text which can be collated with any part of the texts in 1066 C.” See Swanton, Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, pp. 196, 199. Regarding caution when using “almost contemporary” annals, see Gransden, Historical Writing, p. 32; Bernard S. Bachrach and David S. Bachrach, Warfare in Medieval Europe, c. 400–c. 1453 (London, 2017), pp. 16–17. See also Renee R. Trilling, The Aesthetics of Nostalgia: Historical Representation in Old English Verse (Toronto, 2009), p. 191. These include accounts by John of Worcester, Henry of Huntingdon, William of Malmesbury, Symeon of Durham, Orderic Vitalis and Geffrei Gaimar. Henry of Huntingdon, Historia Anglorum, p. 387; R. A. B. Mynors, R. M. Thomson, M. Winterbottom, ed. and trans., William of Malmesbury. Gesta Regum Anglorum/The History of the English Kings, vol. 1 (Oxford, 1998), pp. 421, 423; Orderic Vitalis, Ecclesiastical History, p. 2:169. Gransden, Historical Writing, pp. 153, 158–59, 173, 176, 185, 210; Teresa Marie Lopez,

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fore, any agreement between the various texts regarding descriptions of the battle, or between these texts and the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle versions, does not necessarily validate what was reported. Three of the earliest Scandinavian written sources, Historia de antiquitate regum Norwagiensium (Historia), Ágrip af Nóregskonungasögum (Ágrip) and Orkneyinga saga, provide relatively short accounts of the Battle of Stamford Bridge. The most detailed accounts of the battle are found in the three major saga compendia, Morkinskinna, Fagrskinna, and Heimskringla, which were written in the early thirteenth century.20 Morkinskinna is the oldest of these three sagas and provides the first “full-blown version” of the Battle of Stamford Bridge as well as events prior to the battle.21 It was compiled around 1220 in Iceland by an unknown author who used both written and oral native sources as well as some non-native sources.22 Orderic Vitalis and other non-native sources possibly may have influenced passages describing events in England in 1065 and 1066.23 The second of the major sagas, Fagrskinna, was compiled in the earlyto mid-1220s by an unknown author.24 The Fagrskinna account of the Battle of Stamford Bridge closely follows that found in Morkinskinna and, like Morkinskinna, portions of the account may possibly have been influenced by AngloNorman accounts.25 However, descriptions of the battle also rely on accounts from what may be considered to be contemporary sources, some of whom were acknowledged eyewitnesses who survived the battle.26 Heimskringla, the third of the major sagas, is generally agreed to have been written by Snorri Sturluson around 1230.27 Like the authors of Morkinskinna and Fagrskinna, Snorri may have had access to detailed information from oral traditions about Stamford

20 21 22

23

24 25 26 27

“Re-Writing English Identity: Medieval Historians of Anglo-Norman Britain” (unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Tennessee, 2017), p. 148; Winkler, Royal Responsibility, p. 18; Anne E. Lawrence-Mathers, “John of Worcester and the Science of History,” Journal of Medieval History, 39 (2013), 255–74, at pp. 256–57; Penny Eley and Phillip E. Bennett, “The Battle of Hastings According to Gaimar, Wace and Benoit: Rhetoric and Politics,” Nottingham Medieval Studies 43 (1999), 47–78, at p. 50. For the purposes of this paper, Morkinskinna, Fagrskinna, and Heimskringla will collectively be referred to as the “Kings’ Sagas.” Kari Ellen Gade, “Morkinskinna and 25th of September 1066,” Poetik und Gedächtnis: Festschrift für Heiko Uecker zum 65. Geburtstag (2004), pp. 211–22, at p. 216. Andersson and Gade, Morkinskinna, p. 2; Ármann Jakobsson, “Royal Biography,” in A Companion to Old Norse-Icelandic Literature and Culture, ed. Rory McTurk (Oxford, 2005), pp. 388–402, at pp. 11, 29–33. Gade, “Morkinskinna and 25th of September 1066,” p. 216; Alison Finlay, “History and Fiction in the Kings’ Sagas: The Case of Haraldr harðráði,” Saga-Book 39 (2015), 77–102, at p. 95; Shami Ghosh, Kings’ Sagas and Norwegian History. Problems and Perspectives (Leiden, 2011), p. 115. Finlay, Fagrskinna, p. 17; Jakobsson, “Royal Biography,” p. 396. Finlay, “History and Fiction,” p. 95. Ibid., p. 96. Alison Finlay and Anthony Faulkes, trans., Snorri Sturluson. Heimskringla I: The Beginnings to Óláfr Tryggvason (London, 2011), p. ix.



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Bridge that were not utilized by earlier authors.28 Snorri’s account of the Battle of Stamford Bridge closely follows those found in Morkinskinna and Fagrskinna; however, some of the episodes he describes may possibly have been altered to follow versions found in Anglo-Norman texts, in particular, William of Malmesbury’s account.29 The Scandinavian written sources that mention the Battle of Stamford Bridge must be viewed with care. The sagas provide accounts that were based on information that was filtered by several factors including the perceptions of the eyewitnesses, modifications to the accounts that occurred during the transmission of various oral traditions over time, and the “recasting” of these oral traditions into an abbreviated written form.30 Saga scholars generally agree that skaldic verses found in the sagas were transmitted more or less as originally composed. Although the speeches and conversations in the accounts almost certainly were literary constructs, the prose narrative accompanying the skaldic verses, which most likely was considerably altered from its original form, is not “pure fiction” and some of this narrative does provide reliable information.31 Like other medieval sources that describe the battle, the saga narratives contain errors of fact and omission. Although some saga passages possibly contain historically accurate information, many of the passages likely were invented by the authors for use as literary devices to further moral and political agendas. The difficulty in relying on these sources is in how to determine which information in the saga passages may be accurate. Many historians are understandably skeptical of the veracity of the saga accounts of the Battle of Stamford Bridge because they were based on oral traditions that were not composed in written form until more than 125 years after the battle. Yet, as Gisli Sigurdsson cautions, although scholars have had no problem identifying numerous historical errors in the saga accounts, they should resist the tendency to “pour the baby out with the bathwater” and reject these 28

29

30

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Elizabeth Ashman Rowe, “‘Axe-age, Sword-age,’ Writing Battles in Viking Age and Medieval Scandinavia” in Writing Battles, New Perspectives on Warfare and Memory in Medieval Europe, eds. Rory Naismith, Máire Ní Mhaonaigh, Elizabeth Ashman Rowe (London, 2020), pp. 108–129, at p. 122. Finlay, “History and Fiction,” p. 95; Ghosh, Kings’ Sagas Problems and Perspectives, pp. 114–15; Rowe, “Axe-age, Sword-age,” pp. 123, 129; Jakobsson, “Royal Biography,” p. 390. Jakobsson, however, cautions that “it is impossible to reach more than tentative conclusions about English influence on the historical writing of Iceland, since we lack clear indications of how widespread it was.” The term “recasting” has been borrowed from Andersson who used it when describing how saga writers were able to choose from “very extensive traditions cultivated orally in various forms” and mold these into a form chosen by the writer. See Theodore M. Andersson, “From Tradition to Literature in the Sagas,” in Oral Art Forms and their Passage into Writing, eds. Else Mundal and Jonas Wellendorf (Copenhagen, 2008), pp. 7–18, at p.12. Theodore M. Andersson, The Growth of the Medieval Icelandic Sagas (1180–1280) (Ithaca, 2006), p. 7; Gade, “Morkinskinna and 25th of September 1066,” p. 216; Finlay 02 July 2009, personal communication.

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accounts in their entirety.32 While much of what the saga accounts relate about the battle may be unreliable, it is possible that some passages may, in fact, “have an extraordinarily close relationship to reality” and possibly provide reliable information relating to events from the Norwegian perspective of the battle.33 The various written accounts of the Battle of Stamford Bridge must be viewed with the understanding that none of them provides an unbiased, factual account of the battle, as judged by modern standards. Therefore, examining the feasibility of events as described in the various narratives, using principles of strategy, tactics, and logistics, is critical in determining the veracity of the accounts and the likelihood they occurred as recorded. Once the feasibility of each account has been assessed, they can be compared in order to propose the most likely reconstruction of events and location of the main battle. Near dawn on 25 September, the English army left its camp at Tadcaster and began the seventeen-mile journey to Stamford Bridge.34 While it is generally accepted that English armies during this time often rode to battle, there is no consensus regarding the ratio of mounted troops to infantry in Harold’s army.35 However, the majority of Harold’s troops most likely were mounted.36 Since there is little historical evidence regarding standard rates of march for medieval armies in England, estimating the rate of march for Harold’s army must be based on its slowest component, the infantry. It is generally accepted that the standard rate of march for infantry over adequate roads in open terrain was about 2.5 to three miles per hour and that fifteen miles was an average day’s march.37 Using this rate of march, it would have taken Harold’s troops about three and

32

33 34 35

36

37

Gisli Sigurdsson, “Orality Harnessed: How to Read Written Sagas from an Oral Culture?,” trans. Nicholas Jones, in Oral Art Forms and their Passage into Writing, eds. Else Mundal and Jonas Wellendorf (Copenhagen, 2008), pp. 19–28, at p. 25. For a somewhat similar opinion, see Bachrach and Bachrach, Warfare in Medieval Europe, p. 9. Gisli Sigurdsson, The Medieval Icelandic Saga and Oral Tradition: A Discourse on Method, (Cambridge, MA, 2004), p. 256. Swanton, Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, p. 197. Regarding English armies riding to battle, see Matthew Strickland, “Military Technology and Conquest: The Anomaly of Anglo-Saxon England,” in Anglo-Norman Studies XIX, Proceedings of the Battle Conference 1996, ed. Christopher Harper-Bill (Woodbridge, 1997), 353–382, at p. 368; Ryan Lavelle, Alfred’s Wars: Sources and Interpretations of Anglo-Saxon Warfare in the Viking Age (Woodbridge, 2010), p. 281. Agreeing are Ian W. Walker, Harold, The Last Anglo-Saxon King (Stroud, 2010), p. 181; Kim Hjardar and Vegard Vike, Vikings at War (Havertown, 2016), p. 291; Brooks, Stamford Bridge, p. 199; Gareth Williams, England 865–1066, Viking Warrior versus Anglo-Saxon Warrior (Oxford, 2017), pp. 64–65. John H. Pryor, “Digest,” in Logistics of Warfare in the Age of the Crusades, ed. John H. Pryor (Aldershot, 2006), pp. 275–92, at p. 280; John Haldon, ”Roads and Communications in the Byzantine Empire: Wagons, Horses, and Supplies,” in Logistics of Warfare in the Age of the Crusades, ed. John H. Pryor (Aldershot, 2006), pp. 131–58, at p. 142; Stephen Morillo, Warfare Under the Anglo-Norman Kings, 1066–1135 (Woodbridge, 1994), p. 114; Lavelle, Alfred’s Wars, pp. 191–93.



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a half hours to reach York, with the vanguard arriving around 9:30 am.38 After a probable delay to gather information, allow the troops and horses to rest, and to incorporate any available troops remaining after the defeat at Fulford, Harold and his army set out toward Stamford Bridge along the old Roman road (Margary 81a). The army’s rate of march to Stamford Bridge would have been governed by several factors besides the condition of the Roman road. These included the number men and animals in the column and the space they occupied, the width of the road, the condition of the local terrain, and weather conditions. A double column of four thousand mounted infantry would have occupied just under five miles of road and an infantry column of two thousand men, five abreast with each rank occupying six feet, would have occupied nearly half a mile.39 If the English also had remounts, the total column length may have stretched over nine miles. Although these estimated figures may not represent the actual ratio between mounted infantry and foot soldiers in Harold’s army nor the actual troop spacing, they do provide a fair indication of the army’s column length, which would become a critical factor both in the manner in which the subsequent battle was fought as well as its duration. The terrain between York and Stamford Bridge presented no real obstacles and there is no mention of inclement weather in the written sources.40 Under ideal conditions, the vanguard of the English army likely marched over the crest in the road at Gate Helmsley around 1:30 pm with the remainder of the troops arriving at intervals over an additional two or more hours. Allowing for various possible delays, the vanguard may have arrived as late as mid-afternoon. There are no detailed accounts of the battle in English or Anglo-Norman sources other than Henry of Huntingdon’s mention of fighting on the west bank and the descriptions of the lone Norwegian defender on the bridge.41 However, MS. C and MS. D do provide two important pieces of information, the location of the Norwegians and that the English army surprised them. According to MS. C, “Then Harold, king of the English, moved against them by surprise beyond the bridge.”42 As Plummer explains, this passage indicates the English

38

39

40 41

42

This estimate assumes the army was fully prepared to march at sunrise, which was 5:54 am on 25 Sept. 1066. See Earth System Research Laboratory, “NOAA Solar Calculator,” accessed 8 April 2017. https://www.esrl.noaa.gov/gmd/grad/solcalc/index.html. These estimates are based on examples in Haldon, “Roads and Communications,” pp. 142–43; Pryor, “Digest,” p. 280; Bernard S. Bachrach, ”Crusader Logistics: From Victory at Nicaea to Resupply at Dorylaion,” in Logistics of Warfare in the Age of the Crusades, ed. John H. Pryor (Aldershot, 2006), pp. 43–62, at pp. 55–56. Saga accounts state the skies were clear and it was hot. See Andersson and Gade, Morkinskinna, p. 268. Regarding the lone Norwegian defender, see Henry of Huntingdon, Historia Anglorum, p. 387; Swanton, Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, p. 198; William of Malmesbury, Gesta Regum Anglorum, 1: 421. O’Brien O’Keefe, “Reading the C-Text,” p. 259.

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army encountered the Norwegians on the west side of the Derwent.43 Henry of Huntington’s account of the battle appears to be in agreement with this explanation and, if correct, suggests there was a large force of Norwegians, if not the entire army, west of the Derwent. William of Malmesbury’s account does not specify the location of the Norwegian army at the start of the battle. However, his description of events after the defeat of the lone Norwegian defender on the bridge can be inferred to indicate the Norwegian army was originally on the west side of the river. According to William, “Given free passage, the army crossed immediately and cut down the Norwegians, who were straying at random, from the rear.”44 This passage clearly suggests that once over the bridge, the English did not encounter the main Norwegian army but instead pursued and killed fleeing Norwegian troops, thus implying the main battle had already occurred west of the river.45 Several saga accounts state that the Norwegian army was on the move towards York, not east of the Derwent River, when it encountered the English army.46 If these accounts are believed, they appear to corroborate the location mentioned in the passages in MS. C and Historia Anglorum. Both MS. C and MS. D state that the English army surprised the Norwegians.47 This is a key factor since the element of surprise is essential in explaining the magnitude of the Norwegian defeat. That the English were able to surprise the Norwegians has almost universally been attributed to Harald Sigurdsson’s lack of judgement and poor intelligence gathering.48 However, this may not have been the actual reason. Harald and Tostig probably had supporters in York and the surrounding area, yet no warning was sent to notify them that the English army had arrived in the vicinity of York. As McLynn notes, “even more remarkably, none of the citizens through whose towns Harold’s army had passed thought of making himself a small fortune by riding to the Norsemen with a warning.”49 While it has been suggested the reason for no warning may have been due to patriotism towards Harold Godwinson, it seems unlikely the

43 44 45

46 47

48

49

Plummer and Earle, Two Saxon Chronicle Parallels, p. 256. William of Malmesbury, Gesta Regum Anglorum 1:421, 423. According to MS. C, once the English crossed the bridge, they “made a great slaughter of both Norwegians and Flemings.” Although somewhat open to interpretation, this passage may be viewed as corroboration for William’s account. Swanton, Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, p. 198. Andersson and Gade, Morkinskinna, p. 268; Finlay, Fagrskinna, p. 224; Finlay and Faulkes, Heimskringla, p. 111; Palsson and Edwards, Orkneyinga Saga, pp. 77–78. The element of surprise is not mentioned in any of the Anglo-Norman sources. This may have been due to simple oversight or it may have been left out due to possible political agendas of the authors. See DeVries, Norwegian Invasion, p.268; Hjardar and Vike, Vikings at War, p. 291; Frank McLynn, 1066 The Year of the Three Battles (London, 1999), p. 201; Brooks, Stamford Bridge, p. 13 McLynn, 1066, p. 201.



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full population felt this way.50 Having received hostages and pledges from the townspeople of York, and probably believing that Tostig had local support, Harald most likely expected his new allies to inform him of the arrival of any hostile enemy force.51 English and Anglo-Norman sources provide no explanation regarding how the English were able to surprise the Norwegians. The saga accounts, however, agree that surprise played a major part in the defeat of the Norwegian army and are quite clear as to how the surprise was achieved. According to the Kings’ Sagas accounts, Harold arrived in York the night of 24 September, secured the city gates and had patrols sent out to control the roads out of the city to keep any news of their arrival from the Norwegians.52 Although the veracity of these accounts is not corroborated by other sources, the scenario they present does provide a plausible explanation for the surprise of the Norwegians. What has rarely been analyzed is what steps the English may have taken to achieve this element of surprise. As Glover discusses, historians often mark the happening of an event but fail to “look beneath the surface” and analyze its preparation.53 He demonstrates that despite being one of the great “principles of war,” the element of surprise is often attributed to luck or mistakes by the opponent because historians fail to analyze what preparation would have been required by the commander who achieved the surprise. According to Glover, one of the key elements in obtaining surprise is a security screen, which prevents the enemy from gaining any information that will allow him to deduce the main plan.54 Setting aside the premise that Harald Sigurdsson uncharacteristically demonstrated poor judgement, there exists the possibility that Harold Godwinson may have put in place a plan for surprising the Norwegians.55 Although MS. C states that the English army arrived at Tadcaster on 24 September, no other source corroborates this location for the English camp. If, however, Harold had instructed his main army to encamp at Tadcaster and ridden onward to York with his vanguard the evening of the 24th, he likely would have been able to prevent

50 51

52 53 54 55

For patriotism as a reason, see Walker, Harold, p. 182. That Harald had received hostages, provisions and pledges of support can be found in MS. C and John of Worcester’s Chronicle. Swanton, Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, p. 198; R. R. Darlington and P. McGurk, eds., P. McGurk and Jennifer Bray, trans. John of Worcester. The Chronicle of John of Worcester II: The Annals from 450 to 1066 (Oxford, 1995), p. 603. Andersson and Gade, Morkinskinna, p. 267; Finlay, Fagrskinna, p. 223; Finlay and Faulkes, Heimskringla III, p. 111. Richard Glover, “War and Civilian Historians,” Journal of the History of Ideas 18 (1957), 84–100. Ibid., p. 93. See Williams, England 865–1066, p. 72; Stephen Morillo, “Introduction,” in The Battle of Hastings: Sources and Interpretations, ed. Stephen Morillo (Woodbridge, 1996), p. xiv. That poor decision-making was uncharacteristic of Harald can be inferred from comments by both Williams and Morillo.

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any warning from reaching the Norwegians. In this scenario, the lack of preparedness by Harald and the Norwegians the following day becomes understandable.56 Tadcaster and York are not mutually exclusive as locations for elements of the English army. Although it cannot be proven, this scenario offers a more plausible explanation for the surprise of the Norwegian army on 25 September than does an uncharacteristic laxness by Harald Sigurdsson. The morning of the 25th, the Norwegians left their ships and traveled to Stamford Bridge, ostensibly to receive additional hostages.57 This reason is not found in any source other than MS. C and no explanation is provided as to why these hostages were being delivered at Stamford Bridge. Although hostages played an important role in medieval politics in guaranteeing the behavior of the hostage-givers, the question remains as to why Harald Sigurdsson would not have demanded they be delivered to him at York?58 It is unknown whether the hostages mentioned in MS. C were delivered as promised but they most likely were since the outlying villages and towns were probably unaware of the arrival of the English army. Additionally, if they had not arrived, Harald probably would have grown suspicious and sent out scouts who likely would have discovered the approaching English army. Most scenarios proposed by historians for the Battle of Stamford Bridge involve locating Harald and Tostig, with the main portion of their army, east of the Derwent River at Battle Flats.59 Many of these scholars have located a smaller portion of the army west of the river, most likely to accommodate Henry of Huntingdon’s account and as background for the story of the lone Norwegian defender on the bridge. If the main Norwegian army had been located at Battle Flats, the English army likely would have been visible as it came over the rise at Gate Helmsley and descended along the road toward Stamford Bridge. It has been suggested that the viewshed of Battle Flats may not have been extensive enough for Norwegian sentries, if there were any, to have detected the column of English troops. However, records suggest the land south of the main road at Gate Helmsley was primarily “open-field land” during the Middle Ages.60 Although we cannot be sure that today’s topography matches exactly that of 56

57 58 59

60

Agreeing are G. A. Auden, “The Strategy of Harold Hardrada in the Invasion of 1066,” Journal of the Society for Army Historical Research 6 (1927), 214–21, at p. 220; and Charles Jones, The Forgotten Battle of 1066, Fulford (Stroud, 2007), pp. 201, 203. Swanton, Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, p. 198. Regarding the role of hostages, see Adam Kosto, Hostages in the Middle Ages (Oxford, 2012), pp. 25–28. See DeVries, Norwegian Invasion, pp. 269–70; Marsden, Harald Hardrada, p. 220; Walker, Harold, p. 184; Brooks, Stamford Bridge, p. 20; Hjardar and Vike, Vikings at War, p. 291; Barrett, Battles, pp. 5–6; McLynn, 1066, pp. 201–02; Auden, “The Strategy of Harold Hardrada,” p. 221; Alfred Higgins Burne, More Battlefields of England. (London, 1952), p. 87. A. P. Baggs, G. H. R. Kent and J. D. Purdy, “Catton: Kexby, Scoreby, and Stamford Bridge West,” in A History of the County of York East Riding, vol. 3, Ouse and Derwent Wapentake, and Part of Harthill Wapentake, ed. K. J. Allison (London, 1976), pp. 158–164.



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1066, it is likely the main road traversed meadowlands and fields between Gate Helmsley and Stamford Bridge. Therefore, the viewshed would have been sufficient for the observation of movement along the main road from Gate Helmsley. Although possible, it is unlikely that a Norwegian force at Battle Flats would not have posted sentries to observe the surrounding area. These sentries likely would have observed the English column on the road from Gate Helmsley, nearly one and a half miles away, thereby depriving the English of any chance of surprise. Marching without pause, it would have taken the vanguard of the English army approximately half an hour to reach the bridge. This estimate does not include the time needed for the army to have confronted any Norwegians located west of the river.61 The ongoing arrival of “fresh” English troops would have increased the size of the attacking force and allowed it to replace casualties while it slowly forced the Norwegians back across the bridge. The delay caused by this fighting would have allowed Harald and his troops at Battle Flats ample time to arrange a defensive formation east of the bridge. It was at this juncture of the battle that the account of the lone Norwegian defender is introduced by the MS. C chronicler, Henry of Huntington, and William of Malmesbury. According to MS. C, this defender “withstood the English people so they could not cross the bridge nor gain victory.”62 William states, somewhat vaguely, the English victory “was interrupted for many an hour” whereas Henry suggests the defense lasted until “three o’clock in the afternoon.”63 If the account of this defender is true, it is more likely he delayed the English for as little as fifteen minutes or possibly as much as an hour before he eventually was killed and the English were able to cross the bridge and attack the Norwegian main force.64 If Henry of Huntington’s account was incorrect and the English encountered no opposition west of the Derwent, the English army would still have needed about two and a half hours before a sufficient number of troops would have been able to cross the bridge and align themselves for an attack against the Norwegians.65 While Harald and Tostig possibly may have been surprised, they still 61

62 63 64 65

See Burne, More Battlefields, p. 95; Barrett, Battles, pp. 5–6; DeVries, Norwegian Invasion, p. 280. Burne refers to the Norwegians having “a large covering force on the river line.” Barrett suggests this force successfully defended the western bank for several hours before retreating across the bridge. DeVries speculates there were “quite a large number of early casualties” on the west side of the river. Yet, neither Burne nor DeVries discusses the possible time needed for Harold’s army to eliminate these troops. Swanton, Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, p. 198. William of Malmesbury, Gesta Regum Anglorum, p. 421; Henry of Huntingdon, Historia Anglorum, p. 387. The account of the lone Norwegian defender is not found in any of the Scandinavian sources. This calculation is based on six thousand troops in two thousand ranks, each rank occupying six feet, and a three second delay between each rank setting out at a rate of 2.5 miles/hr. (most likely the total time would have been greater). This estimate is based on

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would have had sufficient time to have reviewed options, implemented a strong defensive formation or chosen to retreat to their ships. Several questions remain regarding the premise that the Norwegians were located at Battle Flats. One of the key mysteries concerns why the Norwegians would have allowed the English army to cross the bridge relatively uncontested. The narrow bridge would have negated any English numerical superiority by limiting the number of troops that could have crossed the bridge at one time.66 The English would have been funneled into a narrow column and the Norwegians would likely have been able to delay or defeat any attempt to establish a bridgehead. A second option would have been for the Norwegians to allow the English vanguard to cross the bridge and then attack and destroy these troops as they deployed with their backs against the river. Finally, Harald could have chosen to leave a small blocking force and retreated to his ships. The above analysis of Battle Flats as the location of the main battle is based primarily on English and Anglo-Norman sources. Applying the saga accounts to the Battle Flats scenario can only be done with difficulty. Although the general saga narratives may possibly be applied to Battle Flats, several key elements, such as the surprise at the appearance of the English and attacks by mounted English troops, are not likely to have happened as described. While the plausibility of some of the elements can be argued, the likelihood that English troops dismounted, led their mounts across the bridge unopposed, remounted and charged upslope against a prepared shield wall is almost non-existent. Not only would it have taken two to three hours to complete the crossing, under optimal conditions, but it would have been very difficult for the mounted troops to have defeated the prepared Norwegian infantry.67 Instead, Harold most likely would have focused on the inherent advantages of his housecarls and had them attack as infantry.68 The implausibility of an English cavalry attack at Battle Flats has led some scholars to postulate that the saga accounts were appropriated from a different battle narrative. Most often, the proposed narrative has been the Battle of Hast-

66

67

68

examples from Haldon, “Roads and Communications,” pp. 142–43; Pryor, “Digest,” p. 280; and Bachrach, “Crusader Logistics,” pp. 55–56. Although there has been some speculation in the literature regarding a natural stone ford, there appears to be a consensus among scholars that the ford did not play a role in the battle. Brooks, Stamford Bridge, pp. 17–19; Burne, More Battlefields, p. 94; H. G. Ramm, “The Derwent Crossing at Stamford Bridge,” Yorkshire Archaeological Journal 41 (1965), 368–76, at p. 372. Guy Halsall, Warfare and Society in the Barbarian West 450–900 (London, 2003), p. 182; Bernard S. Bachrach, “Caballus et Caballarius in Medieval Warfare,” in The Study of Chivalry: Resources and Approaches, eds. Howell D. Chickering and Thomas H. Seiler (Kalamazoo, 1988), pp. 173–211, at p. 185. Harold’s housecarls were well-equipped and well-trained troops many of whom likely had fought with him against the Welsh in 1063. See DeVries, Norwegian Invasion, p. 211; Charles Warren Hollister, Anglo-Saxon Military Institutions on the Eve of the Norman Conquest (Oxford, 1962), p. 12; Charles Carlton, Royal Warriors: A Military History of the British Monarchy (Harlow, 2003), p. 18.



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ings. Additional suggested narratives are the Battle of Jaffa and the Battle of Bouvines, proposed by Bruce Gelsinger and Shaun Hughes, respectively.69 The Battle of Hastings is the narrative most frequently cited by historians who believe that the Kings’ Sagas descriptions were appropriated from a different battle.70 Besides the use of cavalry, several other similarities are generally used to build a comparative case between descriptions of the two battles. These include the defensive stand of one army using a shield wall to repel cavalry charges, the location of this army on high ground, the repulse of the initial cavalry attack, the use of a “feigned retreat” and the subsequent breaking of the shield wall to pursue the “fleeing” enemy, the cavalry turning against the “pursuing” infantry, and the death of the defeated leader by an arrow in the head. Although these similarities appear to make a conclusive case for borrowing, they require a fair amount of manipulation of the Stamford Bridge narratives to do so. In discussing these comparative elements, DeVries observes that shield walls were a common defensive tactic in the eleventh century; however, the manner in which the shield wall was used at Hastings differed from that at Stamford Bridge. At Hastings, the shield wall was a “well-planned tactic” used as an offensive formation whereas at Stamford Bridge it was formed quickly in a purely defensive capacity.71 Any similarity was only in the most general terms. Several of the comparative elements can be described as coincidental. These include the location of the defenders on high ground, the repulse of the initial cavalry attack and the deaths of the leaders from arrow wounds to the head. The use of high ground by defending armies is common to battles throughout history. If the Stamford Bridge battle was fought at Halifax Meadow rather than Battle Flats, this potential similarity would no longer be valid. The repulse of cavalry attacks by prepared infantry was a common feature in most medieval battles that employed a shield wall defense and was not unique to these two battles.72 An example is provided by Gelsinger in his discussion of the Battle of Jaffa. The argument regarding the death of both leaders by head wounds ignores the fact that Harald Sigurdsson was fatally wounded in the throat whereas Harald Godwinson received a death wound to his eye. The protective armor worn by both leaders left few exposed areas, the most vulnerable of which were the face and head. As DeVries notes, “the death or wounding of a leader in the face or head by archery was also common in medieval battles.”73 The “feigned retreat” comparison is not valid for the Morkinskinna or Fagrskinna accounts and can be applied to Heimskringla only by manipulating the account. In Snorri’s version of this phase of the battle, after what they perceived 69

70 71 72 73

Bruce Gelsinger, “The Battle of Stamford Bridge and the Battle of Jaffa: A Case of Confused Identity?,” Scandinavian Studies 60 (1988), 13–29; Shaun F. D. Hughes, “The Battle of Stamford Bridge and the Battle of Bouvines,” Scandinavian Studies 60 (1988), pp. 30–76. For an example, refer to Rowe, “Axe-age, Sword-age,” p. 123. DeVries, Norwegian Invasion, p. 273. See Halsall, Warfare and Society, p. 182; DeVries, Norwegian Invasion, p. 274. DeVries, Norwegian Invasion, p. 274.

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to be weak attacks by the English, the Norwegians counter-attacked and the English fled.74 When the Norwegians opened a portion of their shield wall and engaged in pursuit, the English “attacked them from all sides.”75 Snorri’s account suggests that, unlike the English at Hastings, the Norwegians at Stamford Bridge apparently believed they could turn the tide of battle by launching a decisive counter-attack. It is unlikely they believed they were chasing a defeated enemy. Unlike Hastings, when the counter-attack failed and the Norwegians who had ventured out of the formation were in danger of being overwhelmed, their king advanced “to where the fighting was densest” to reinforce his troops.76 No equivalent account is given for Harold at Hastings. The saga narratives of the Battle of Stamford Bridge most likely were not based on extensive borrowings from Anglo-Norman accounts of the Battle of Hastings. Many of the proposed parallels appear to be no more than coincidence while other described similarities require some amount of manipulation and have elements common to many medieval battles. While it is possible that the saga authors, in particular Snorri, had access to Anglo-Norman accounts, any transference from these accounts most likely was minimal. The saga authors may have had access to the Hastings battle narratives of William of Malmesbury and Orderic Vitalis, which they possibly used to enhance, but not replace, the Scandinavian oral tradition descriptions of Stamford Bridge. However, this argument is speculative and unproven. There is no evidence of direct borrowing. The theories proposed by Gelsinger and Hughes rely on the premise that accounts of Jaffa and Bouvines had reached Norway and Iceland in the first quarter of the thirteenth century and were easily available to the saga writers. However, there is no evidence supporting this premise.77 Both authors subscribe to the view that while accounts of Stamford Bridge likely were disseminated by survivors across Scandinavia, subsequent oral traditions provided only limited details of the battle.78 Gelsinger suggests that a detailed narrative of the Battle of Jaffa reached Iceland and replaced any existing accounts of Stamford Bridge in local oral traditions prior to the creation of Morkinskinna (~1120). However, his tenuous theory of diffusion and his presumption that all three saga authors would co-opt the Jaffa battle narrative to replace their existing accounts are unlikely and unproven. According to Hughes, the original accounts of the Battle Stamford Bridge in Morkinskinna, Fagrskinna and Heimskringla were similar to those found in Ágrip and Theodoricus’ Historia, and the extant versions were “expanded and radically altered” through extensive borrowings from accounts of the Battle of

74 75 76 77 78

Finlay and Faulkes, Heimskringla III, p. 115. Ibid., p. 115. Ibid., p. 115. Hughes admits there is no written evidence that details of the Battle Bouvines were known in Scandinavia. Hughes, “Battle of Bouvines,” pp. 50, 62. Gelsinger, “Battle of Jaffa,” pp. 15–16, 22; Hughes, “Battle of Bouvines,” pp. 46–47.



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Bouvines.79 Saga scholars, however, suggest the short written accounts in early works such as Ágrip were not due to a lack of information about the battle, but instead represent a prefatory period of experimental composition in which the early saga authors most likely condensed main points in lengthy oral transmissions into shorter written summaries or digests.80 Over time, the increasing skill of saga writers allowed them to transpose longer oral stories and accounts into written narratives that increased both in length and detail.81 This explanation provides a more plausible explanation for the more detailed accounts of the later sagas than does the idea that the original accounts were rewritten and expanded to incorporate elements of the Battle of Bouvines. Many of the parallels described by Gelsinger and Hughes, such as hot weather and a battlefield near a river crossing, appear to be no more than coincidences. Other so-called similarities are based on misinterpretation of the saga texts or on a fair amount of account manipulation. Both authors argue that Harald and his retainers remained mounted during the engagement despite the Heimskringla passage that states, “So when King Haraldr Sigurðarson saw this, he stepped forward in the battle to where the fighting was densest.”82 According to Hughes, Harald and his retainers were mounted because they were “expected to be highly mobile and to go forth to where they were most needed,” yet he fails to provide any example in the saga accounts demonstrating the “close cooperation of foot soldiers and cavalry” that would parallel the actions of Renaud’s forces at Bouvines.83 Additional proposed parallels also do not hold up under examination. Despite Gelsinger’s assertion, Richard’s army was not surprised by the arrival of enemy forces, as were Harald and his Norwegians, but was warned of the impending attack.84 His forces were fully prepared in a defensive formation behind a low palisade when Saladin’s army arrived.85 Both writers claim the defensive tactics described in Morkinskinna and Fagrskinna reflect formations that would not have been well known by the Norwegians.86 According to Gelsinger, despite Harald’s years of fighting for the Byzantine army in the Mediterranean, “It is probably only coincidental that the two ranks of infantry with archers at the flanks was a typical Byzantine formation.”87 Hughes suggests the fylking 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87

Hughes, “Battle of Bouvines,” pp. 46–47, 60. For a detailed discussion, see Theodore M. Andersson, “The Formation of the Kings’ Sagas,” Scripta Islandica 60 (2009), 77–87, at pp. 81–86. Ibid., pp. 86–87. Gelsinger, “Battle of Jaffa,” pp. 14, 18, 20; Hughes, “Battle of Bouvines,” pp. 57–58. For the quotation, see Finlay and Faulkes, Heimskringla III, p. 115. Hughes, “Battle of Bouvines,” pp. 45, 57–58. Gelsinger, “Battle of Jaffa,” p. 18. Steven Runciman, A History of the Crusades, 3: The Kingdom of Acre and the Later Crusades (Cambridge, 1999), p. 71; Hughes, “Battle of Bouvines,” p. 37. Gelsinger, “Battle of Jaffa,” p. 16; Hughes, “Battle of Bouvines,” p. 37. Gelsinger, “Battle of Jaffa,” p. 24 n. 14. Despite Gelsinger’s comments, Harald most likely gained significant familiarity with cavalry tactics, which he later may have drawn upon at

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(formation) described in the saga accounts was a svinefylking (boar’s snout), a wedge-shaped formation primarily used for offense, which he compares to the Flemish coin.88 Yet, as Hughes observes, there is nothing in either the Morkinskinna or Fagrskinna descriptions to suggest Harald’s formation was a coin.89 Neither author considers the possibility that the saga writers may have been referring to a commonly used Viking formation, the defensive phalanx.90 The saga descriptions suggest it consisted of two contiguous phalanges, one composed of Harald’s troops and the other of Tostig’s. The Norwegians likely had no difficulty in quickly aligning themselves in this formation when ordered to do so. The theories of Hughes and Gelsinger are based on an unlikely combination of assumptions. These include the premise that only limited details of the Battle of Stamford Bridge reached Scandinavia, a somewhat tenuous theory of diffusion for the Jaffa and Bouvines battle narratives, and the assertion that the saga writers not only had access to these works, but that they chose to rewrite their existing accounts using significant borrowings from these narratives. Other than the mention of cavalry charges, the comparative elements discussed by Hughes and Gelsinger are either coincidental or require a fair amount of manipulation of the Stamford Bridge accounts. Upon review, their arguments for extensive borrowings are unpersuasive. A more likely scenario for the Battle of Stamford Bridge is that it occurred at Halifax Meadow. As mentioned in MS. C, the Norwegians had crossed the bridge and, according to the sagas, had started their march to York when they were surprised by the arrival of a growing number of heavily armored, mounted troops near Gate Helmsley. Caught on the west side of the Derwent in relatively close proximity to their adversaries, the Norwegians likely recognized that retreat across the narrow bridge was not an option. Viking armies, however, were familiar with fighting cavalry and the Norwegians reacted by forming an extended line, possibly in a defensive phalanx formation.91 The English mounted vanguard almost certainly would have halted at Gate Helmsley as

88 89 90 91

Stamford Bridge, while fighting alongside a Norman force during the Byzantine attempt to retake Sicily in 1038–40 as well as against Norman cavalry at the Battles of Olivento (1041) and Montemaggiori (1041). See Sigfús Blöndal, The Varangians of Byzantium (Cambridge, 2007 [1978]), pp. 69–70; Nicholas Hooper and Matthew Bennett, Cambridge Illustrated Atlas of Warfare, The Middle Ages 768–1487 (Cambridge, 1996), p. 82. Hughes, “Battle of Bouvines,” pp. 46, 51–52, 55, 61. Hughes attributes this to confusion on the part of the saga writers about the shape and tactics of the coin. Hughes, “Battle of Bouvines,” pp. 51–55, 60–61. For a detailed description of this formation, see Hjardar and Vike, Vikings at War, pp. 74–75, 77 (illustration). Regarding their familiarity with defending against cavalry, see Hooper and Bennett, Cambridge Illustrated Atlas, p. 34; Thomas A. Noonan, “Scandinavians in European Russia,” in The Oxford Illustrated History of the Vikings, ed. Peter Sawyer (Oxford, 1997), pp. 134–55, at p. 155; Hjardar and Vike, Vikings at War, pp. 84–85; Halsall, Warfare and Society, p. 206.



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Harold doubtless realized he did not have sufficient troops to engage in a fullscale infantry attack. This introductory narrative provides a plausible initial sequence of events utilizing the MS. C account for both the location of the Norwegian army and the element of surprise by the English; however, it is still primarily conjecture. While it is accepted that the sagas do not provide a completely factual recitation of events for the Battle of Stamford Bridge, several of the saga passages present what may be considered to be credible information when applied to the Halifax Meadow scenario. The arrival of mounted English troops mentioned in the Kings’ Sagas is one such example.92 Many scholars agree that most of the English army was mounted when it arrived at Stamford Bridge. The general saga descriptions of a hurried alignment into a defensive phalanx as a defense against cavalry are possibly correct based on this perspective. Historians have debated for decades whether the English had cavalry, primarily because the few references to cavalry in source materials have been somewhat unclear and open to interpretation.93 It is not the intent of this paper to recite the arguments supporting either the presence or absence of English cavalry in early medieval England. However, it is worth noting that some proponents for the case against the existence of English cavalry do agree that in certain circumstances the English were capable of fighting on horseback. As one such scholar notes, although the English were not “trained in the tactics of specialized horse soldiers,” they most likely were capable of fighting on horseback in a skirmish.94 Agreeing with this sentiment is Halsall, a supporter of the opposing viewpoint regarding English cavalry, who states that “the Anglo-Saxon warrior, like his continental counterpart, could and did fight on horseback when the occasion demanded.”95 With these comments in mind, what should be considered is whether or not there was an occasion during the Battle of Stamford Bridge that demanded the use of mounted skirmishers by the English.96 If the Norwegian army had been located west of the Derwent River when the English vanguard arrived at Gate Helmsley, Harold would have recognized

92 93

94 95 96

Andersson and Gade, Morkinskinna, p. 268; Finlay, Fagrskinna, p. 224; Finlay and Faulkes, Heimskringla III, p. 111. Richard Glover, “English Warfare in 1066,” The English Historical Review 67 (1952), 1–19, at pp. 5–18; Brown, The Normans, pp. 81–84; Halsall, Warfare and Society, pp. 180–88; Morillo, Warfare, p. 10; Lavelle, Alfred’s Wars, pp. 281–86; Kerry Cathers, “An Examination of the Horse in Anglo-Saxon England” (unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Reading, 2002), pp. 259–334. See Nicholas Hooper, “The Anglo-Saxons at War,” in Weapons and Warfare in AngloSaxon England, ed. S. C. Hawkes (Oxford, 1989), pp. 191–202, at p. 200. Halsall, Warfare and Society, p. 185. See Bachrach and Bachrach, Warfare in Medieval Europe, pp. 9–10. As the authors discuss, while “it is the task of the historian to identify what is accurate and what is not,” in some cases “What is missing is the use of historical imagination, which makes it possible to pose a series of questions that are raised if the information provided by a source is, in fact, accurate.”

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the tactical possibility of trapping the Norwegians with their backs against the river. Although Harold most certainly knew he had an insufficient number of troops in his vanguard to mount a successful infantry attack, he likely understood the need to act before the Norwegians recognized his dilemma and began an orderly withdrawal back across the river. It was under these conditions that Harold possibly decided to use his mounted housecarls as cavalry.97 However, he most likely chose to use them not in the manner of Norman shock cavalry, but instead as skirmishers.98 Although the mounted housecarls were heavily armed and armored, their goal would have been to fix the Norwegian army in place until sufficient troops had arrived to mount an infantry attack, not launch a full-scale cavalry attack. While this proposed scenario likely will be unpersuasive to those scholars who remain skeptical about the English use of horses in combat, it does provide a viable explanation as to how Harold may have managed to keep the Norwegians on the west side of the Derwent while awaiting the arrival of the additional troops needed for an infantry assault. The saga accounts state that after preliminary negotiations, the battle began with attacks by mounted English troops.99 The Norwegians, likely aligned in a defensive phalanx stretching across Halifax Meadow, fought off these initial attacks. However, as more English troops arrived at the battlefield, Harold almost certainly used them to initiate an infantry attack, which the sagas suggest resulted in intensified fighting and increased casualties on both sides.100 As the infantry attack progressed, numbers began to tell as “fresh” English reinforcements continued to arrive and were rushed into battle. The description in Morkinskinna of the increasing number of English troops who eventually “destabilized” the Norwegian formation may possibly refer to the English having successfully broken through the Norwegian phalanx at its weak spot, the junction between the two phalanges. As the English rushed through the breach in the shield wall, the Morkinskinna and Fagrskinna accounts suggest they began to encircle both phalanges while attacking the Norwegians “from every direction.”101 As the formation “crumbled and reeled back” and “fell apart,” Harald advanced on foot into the breach and closed it, killing everyone in his path.102 Although Harald was subsequently killed and the English renewed As Cathers observes, it would be unreasonable to assume that the English “would have adhered to a single form of fighting irrespective of the terrain, or the opponent or the purpose of the conflict, nor is it reasonable to expect that warriors during this period were expert in a single type of fighting and ignorant or completely incompetent in every other style.” See Cathers, “Examination of the Horse,” p. 261. 98 The term skirmisher is used here to designate troops sent ahead to engage the enemy in a small-scale fight, the purpose of which was to harass the enemy until the main body of troops arrived. 99 Andersson and Gade, Morkinskinna, p. 271; Finlay, Fagrskinna, p. 228. 100 Andersson and Gade, Morkinskinna, p. 271; Finlay, Fagrskinna, p. 228. 101 Andersson and Gade, Morkinskinna, p. 271; Finlay, Fagrskinna, p. 228. 102 Andersson and Gade, Morkinskinna, p. 272; Finlay, Fagrskinna, p. 228. 97



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their attack, the accounts state that Tostig advanced with his troops, succeeded in rallying the Norwegians and seems to have stabilized the line.103 After a pause, during which Harold apparently offered his brother quarter, the battle continued. Tostig was killed, the Norwegians likely executed a fighting withdrawal across the bridge and, while a final defender held the English at bay, the remaining troops fled just as the Norwegian relief force arrived.104 Snorri provides a somewhat different account in Heimskringla. In his description, the Norwegians formed a defensive circle rather than a linear phalanx. Spears were aligned to defend against a mounted attack and shields were held in a manner to protect against the javelins and axes commonly thrown by skirmishers and light cavalry. While some scholars have viewed Snorri’s account as evidence of borrowing from a different battle narrative, it is just as likely he was simply “trying to get it right.” His primary written source for the battle, Morkinskinna describes how, at one point, the Norwegian defensive line was “encircled.” Snorri may have altered this description because he possibly wanted to present his audience with what they may have believed to be a somewhat contemporary defensive formation for an outnumbered infantry force facing cavalry.105 There is no mention in Snorri’s account of a breakthrough by the English. Instead, he states the Norwegians launched a counter-attack that caused the English to fall back. However, when the Norwegians broke their formation and launched this attack, the English turned and “charged them from all sides.”106 It was at this point in the Heimskringla narrative that Harald stepped forward “to where the fighting was densest.” Like the other saga accounts, Snorri reports there was heavy fighting with significant casualties, that Harald advanced out of the formation killing all in his path, and that he was killed shortly afterwards.107 The remainder of Snorri’s version of the battle is generally similar to the Morkinskinna and Fagrskinna accounts. The above narrative remains speculative, since many of the details are based on descriptions found only in the saga accounts, however it adequately incorporates the “fearful assaults on both sides” west of Stamford Bridge, the “English superiority in numbers forcing the Norwegians to give way but not to flee,” and the eventual retreat across the bridge described by Henry of Huntington.108 Additionally, it provides a better explanation than does the Battle Flats narrative for the passage in William of Malmesbury’s account that describes the English pursuing and killing Norwegian survivors of the battle immediately after having crossed the bridge. Andersson and Gade, Morkinskinna, p. 272; Finlay, Fagrskinna, pp. 229–30. Andersson and Gade, Morkinskinna, pp. 272–73; Finlay, Fagrskinna, pp. 229–31. 105 For a discussion of how medieval authors sometimes altered source material to suit a contemporary audience, see Bachrach and Bachrach, Warfare in Medieval Europe, p. 16. 106 Finlay and Faulkes, Heimskringla III, p. 115. 107 Ibid., p. 115. 108 Henry of Huntingdon, Historia Anglorum, p. 387. 103

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Local tradition has traditionally held that Battle Flats was the site of the Battle of Stamford Bridge. However, accepting Battle Flats as the battlefield location presents significant issues when attempting to reconcile passages in English and Anglo-Norman sources with battlefield logistics. The suggestion in MS. C that the element of surprise was a significant component of the English victory is not borne out after examining the time needed for the English army to travel from Gate Helmsley to Stamford Bridge, eliminate any Norwegian troops encountered along the way, and march sufficient troops across the bridge to launch an upslope attack against a prepared Norwegian position. Major elements of the battle remain unexplained, such as why an experienced commander like Harald Sigurdsson would have allowed a larger, better-equipped army to cross the bridge uncontested and then align itself for battle. Although some elements of the battle described in the saga accounts may have been possible, their descriptions of attacks by mounted English troops are not plausible for the Battle Flats scenario. Henry of Huntingdon’s account of the significant fighting west of the bridge and William of Malmesbury’s description of events after the English crossed the bridge do not readily fit into the Battle Flats narrative. Instead, source passages combined with logistics analyses suggest the main battle was fought west of the Derwent River. Despite the local tradition concerning Battle Flats, several key elements of the battle are better explained when analyzed using Halifax Meadow as the battlefield location. These include passages in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle that place the location of the Norwegians west of the bridge as well as the mention of surprise at the arrival of the English. Henry of Huntingdon’s account of significant fighting west of the river and William of Malmesbury’s description of events once the English had crossed over Stamford Bridge better fit the Halifax Meadow narrative. Despite the many issues regarding the overall veracity of the saga accounts, they present a credible sequence of events when based on the premise that the main battle occurred west of the Derwent River. Several saga passages appear to corroborate descriptions found in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and Historia Anglorum accounts, and they provide plausible explanations for both the surprise of the Norwegians and the reported cavalry attacks. Although there is no archaeological evidence or original source references that specifically name the site, analyses based on geography, tactics and logistics combined with specific source passages suggest that Halifax Meadow was the probable location for the Battle of Stamford Bridge.

3 The Frankish Campaign of 1133–1134 in Northern Syria and the Battle of Qinnasrīn Evgeniy A. Gurinov

During the first half of the 1130s, King Fulk of Jerusalem led his troops to northern Syria at least three times. In one of these campaigns, he met the Turkmen and the Aleppan troops and defeated them in the battle of Qinnasrīn, 25 km southwest of Aleppo. Since primary sources give a variety of dates for the battle, scholars describe it as taking place at various points in time between Safar 527/December 1132 and Rabī’ I 528/ January 1134. Based on Latin, Muslim, and Syriac chronicles, this article aims to resolve the problem of dating the battle of Qinnasrīn. The early 1130s were turbulent times for Frankish Syria. In 1128, Atābek ‘Imād al-Dīn Zankī, ruler of Mosul, established his authority over Aleppo, thereby threatening the Principality of Antioch and the County of Edessa. Zankī’s power and influence were growing and, although he had still not become the leader of jihad, there was no doubt that the Franks in Syria and Palestine faced a new dangerous enemy who was able to unite a great part of the Muslim world against them.1 The rise of Zankī coincided with the deaths of Prince Bohemond II of Antioch (1126–1130), who was killed during fighting in Cilicia; King Baldwin II of Jerusalem (1118–1131); and Count Joscelyn I of Edessa (1119–1131). The Count of Edessa’s son and successor, Joscelyn II (1131–1150), was relatively successful in fighting against Sawār, Zankī’s governor in Aleppo.2 The death of Bohemund II, however, had dire consequences for the Principality of Antioch. During the period of interregnum, the principality lost the Cilician plain with the cities of Mamistra, Tarsus and Adana, seized by Prince Levon I Rubenid in 1132, and the important fortresses on the eastern borders of the principality (al-Atharib,

1

2

Nikita Elisséeff, Nūr ad-Dīn: un grand prince musulman de Syrie au temps des croisades (511–569 H/1118–1174), 3 vols. (Damascus, 1967), 2: 332–38; Taef El-Azhari, Zengi and the Muslim Response to the Crusades: The Politics of Jihad (London; New York, 2016), pp. 20, 62–5; Lidiya A. Semenova, Iz istorii srednevekovoj Sirii. Seldzhukskij period [From the History of Medieval Syria. Seljuq period] (Moscow, 1990), pp. 12–13. Monique Amouroux-Mourad, Le Comté d’Édesse, 1098–1150 (Paris, 1988), pp. 78–80.

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Zardana, Tell Aghda, Ma’arrat an-Nu’man, Kafartab), captured by Zankī in 1135. Levon Rubenid also captured the castle of Servantikar in the same year.3 There had thus been a change of ruler almost simultaneously in three of four Crusader states of the East, and this had clear implications for relations among them. After Prince Bohemond II’s death in battle in 1130 and until Raymond of Poitiers’ arrival in the East in 1136, the Principality of Antioch had no ruler and was under the military protection of the king of Jerusalem, although the king’s influence on its policy was diminishing in comparison with the previous period.4 As early as in 1130, Bohemond II’s widow, Alice of Antioch, attempted to established her authority in Antioch, but that attempt was foiled by King Badwin II and the latter’s vassal and ally Joscelyn I.5 King Fulk of Jerusalem (1131–1141), who ascended on the throne after Baldwin II’s death, alienated a part of Jerusalem nobility by removing many of the members of established Norman families from the royal service, which caused the revolt of Count Hugh II of Jaffa in 1134.6 A little earlier in northern Syria, the two counts, Pons of Tripoli and Joscelyn II of Edessa, and William, lord of Sahyūn and Zardana, supported the second attempt of Alice of Antioch to seize the principality, wishing to create a new balance of power in the Latin East and to move out of the sphere of Jerusalemite influence. In response, Fulk came to the north, defeated Pons in the battle near Rugia in summer of 1132 and restored Jerusalemite authority over Antioch.7 Difficult relations between the Crusader states lasted for some years after suppressing Alice’s rebellion. Although Joscelyn II did not participate in the battle of Rugia in 1132, he supported his maternal uncle Levon I, prince of Cilician Armenia, in his conflict with “the King [Fulk of Jerusalem] and the army 3

4 5

6

7

Andrew D. Buck, The Principality of Antioch and its Frontiers in the Twelfth Century (Woodbridge, 2017), pp. 22–27; Claude Mutafian, L’Arménie du Levant (XIe–XIVe siècle), 2 vols. (Paris, 2012), pp. 70–72; Valeriy P. Stepanenko, “Ravninnaya Kilikiya vo vzaimootnosheniyakh Antiokhijskogo knyazhestva i knyazhestva Rubenidov v. 10–40–kh godakh XII v. [The Cilician Plain in the Relations between the Principality of Antioch and the Rubenid Principality in the 1110s–1140s],” Vizantijskij vremenik 49 (1988), pp. 124–25; Dweezil Vandekerckhove, Medieval Fortifications in Cilicia: The Armenian Contribution to Military Architecture in the Middle Ages (Leiden, 2019), p. 34. See Andrew D. Buck, The Principality of Antioch, pp. 218–44. Thomas S. Asbridge, “Alice of Antioch: A Case Study of Female Power in the Twelfth Century,” in The Experience of Crusading. Vol. 2: Defining the Crusader Kingdom, ed. Peter Edbury and Jonathan Phillips (Cambridge, 2003), pp. 31–37; Andrew D. Buck, The Principality of Antioch, pp. 221–22. Hans E. Mayer, “Angevins versus Normans: The New Men of King Fulk of Jerusalem,” Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society 133 (1989), 1–25; idem, “Studies in the History of Queen Melisende of Jerusalem,” Dumbarton Oaks Papers 26 (1972), pp. 101–11. Thomas S. Asbridge, “Alice of Antioch,” pp. 37–39; Andrew D. Buck, The Principality of Antioch, pp. 222–24; Kevin J. Lewis, The Counts of Tripoli and Lebanon in the Twelfth Century: Sons of Saint-Gilles (London, 2017), pp. 102–12; Jonathan Phillips, Defenders of the Holy Land: Relations between the Latin East and the West, 1119–1187 (Oxford, 1996), pp. 45–49.



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of Antioch” in 1135.8 The situation was finally resolved only in 1137 because of the threats to the Crusader states from Byzantium and especially from the Muslims.9 Fulk of Jerusalem, to whom not only the crown of Jerusalem but also the regency in Antioch had passed, had to pay much attention to the affairs of northern Syria. During the turbulent period from 1131 to 1136, he came to the north at least three times: in 1132, in late 1133 to early 1134, and in the summer of 1135.10 The present article considers Fulk’s campaign of 1133–1134 in northern Syria, which ended with the battle of Qinnasrīn. My interest in this issue stems from the fact that there is still considerable disagreement concerning the date of the battle in the modern historiography of the Crusades. Although the battle can be dated, based on complex analysis of all surviving primary sources, to within a month, various historians date it at various points in time between December 1132 and January 1134. The aim of this paper, therefore, is to solve the problem of dating the battle of Qinnasrīn. Primary Sources It is first necessary to consider in more detail the main primary sources for the battle of Qinnasrīn. They include Latin, Muslim and Syriac chronicles. The only Latin chronicle concerning the battle is the work of William of Tyre (d. 1186),11 chancellor of the Kingdom of Jerusalem and archbishop of Tyre. William’s chronicle is of great importance to our study as being the only source to describe the details concerning the battle of Qinnasrīn from the Frankish point of view. When describing the battle, William, who compiled his chronicle in the 1160s–1180s, used reports of older men and, perhaps some written sources that did not survive. The most numerous group of sources is Muslim chronicles. We shall single out two of them written by two mid-twelfth-century chroniclers: Ibn al-­Qalānisī

8

9

10

11

See Samuel of Ani, Žamanakagrut‘iwn [The Chronography], ed. Karen Mat‘evosyan (Yerevan, 2014), p. 210; Gerard Dédéyan, Les Arméniens entre Grecs, Musulmans et Croisés. Étude sur les pouvoirs arméniens dans le Proche-Orient méditerranéen (1068– 1150), 2 vols. (Lisbon, 2003), 2:549–53, 566–69. On the relations between King Fulk and Count Joscelyn II, see Evgeniy A. Gurinov and Maxim V. Nechitailov, Vojska i vojny Latinskogo Vostoka: Grafstvo Edesskoe [Armies and Wars of the Latin East: The County of Edessa] (Moscow, 2018), pp. 23–28. Hans E. Mayer, Die Kanzlei der lateinischen Könige von Jerusalem, 2 vols. (Hannover, 1996), 2:855, writes that, after accession to the throne, Fulk came to the north four times between 1131 and 1136. There is, however, no sufficient reason to believe, as Mayer does, that Fulk visited the principality of Antioch in December 1132–January 1133. See more below. William of Tyre, Chronicon, ed. Robert B. C. Huygens, Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio Mediaeualis 63–64A (Turnhout, 1986). On William of Tyre and his chronicle, see Peter W. Edbury and John G. Rowe, William of Tyre: Historian of the Latin East (Cambridge, 1988).

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(ca. 465–555/1073–1160)12 and al-‛Aẓīmī (483/1090–after 556/1161).13 Ibn al-­ Qalānisī was one of Damascus’ leading citizens and occupied high-ranking positions in the city’s administration. His chronicle is primarily concerned with Damascus, the author’s native town, and only occasionally describes incidents in other regions. While working on it, Ibn al-Qalānisī used not only earlier chronicles and official documents but also reports of “trustworthy persons.”14 Al-‛Aẓīmī was a courtier poet and school teacher in Aleppo. He wrote some works, including a great historical compilation entitled the History of Aleppo and a biographical dictionary, but only one of his works has survived: The so-called Abridge Chronicle partly published by Claude Cahen.15 Despite the “médiocrité littéraire et intellectuelle du texte,”16 this chronicle, written in the 1140s and focussed mainly on Aleppo, is of great importance as the only surviving text of North Syrian Muslim historiography between the middle of the fifth/eleventh century and the middle of the sixth/twelfth century (A. H./A. D.).17 Ibn al-Qalānisī’s and al-‛Aẓīmī’s works have been used as sources by later chroniclers, including Ibn al-Athīr (555/1160–630/1233)18 and Kamāl al-Dīn (588/1192–660/1262).19 Ibn al-Athīr, who is one of the greatest Muslim historians of his time, belonged to an influential family and spent most of his life in Mosul. The first version of his voluminous historical compilation entitled The Complete History was finished by 1198–1199; the work was finalized in the early 1230s. Ibn al-Athīr did collect information from various sources, not only written but also oral; his main twelfth-century sources are Ibn al-Qalānisī’s chronicle and

12 13 14

15 16

17

18

19

Ibn al-Qalānisī, The Damascus Chronicle of the Crusades Extracted and Translated from the Chronicle of Ibn Al-Qalānisī, trans. Hamilton A. R. Gibb (1932, repr. Mineola, 2002). Al-‛Aẓīmī, “La chronique abrégée d’al-‛Azîmî. Années 518–538/1124–1144,” trans. Frédéric Monot, Revue des études islamiques 59 (1991), 101–64. On Ibn al-Qalānisī and his chronicle, see Claude Cahen, “Note d’historiographie syrienne, La première partie de l’histoire d’Ibn al-Qalānisī,” in Arabic and Islamic Studies in Honor of Hamilton A. R. Gibb, ed. George Makdisi (Leiden, 1965), pp. 156–67; Niall Christie, “Ibn al-Qalānisī,” in Medieval Muslim Historians and the Franks in the Levant, ed. Alex Mallett (Leiden, 2014), pp. 7–28. “La Chronique abrégée d’al-ʿAẓīmī,” ed. Claude Cahen, Journal asiatique 230 (1938), 353–448 [hereafter cited as “Al-ʿAẓīmī”]. Ibid., pp. 353–54. Carole Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives (New York, 2000), p. 51, points out that al-ʿAẓīmī’s chronicle “often looks like draft notes for (or from) a longer history.” Claude Cahen, “al-ʿAẓīmī,” Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., 12 vols. (Leiden, 1960– 2005), 1:823. On al-‛Aẓīmī and his chronicle, see also Claude Cahen, La Syrie du nord à l’époque des croisades et la principauté franque d’Antioche (Paris, 1940), pp. 42–43. Ibn al-Athīr, The Chronicle of Ibn al-Athīr for the Crusading Period from al-Kāmil fī’lTa’rīkh. Part 1: The Years 491–541/1097–1146: The Coming of the Franks and the Muslim Response, trans. Donald S. Richards (Aldershot, 2006). Kamāl al-Dīn, “Die Sahne der Geschichte Halebs,” trans. Silvestre de Sacy, in Beiträge zur Geschichte der Kreuzzüge, ed. R. Röhricht, 2 vols. (Berlin, 1874–78), 1:209–338.



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Map 3.1  Qinnasrīn in Context

al-Iṣfahānī’s History of Saladin. It should be noted that Ibn al-Athīr was not a pure copyist; he re-worked source materials for his own purposes.20 Another chronicler from Aleppo, Kamāl al-Dīn, belonged to a rich and famous Aleppan family. He was a head of one of the Aleppan madrasas and served as ambassador of the Ayyūbid rulers of Aleppo and Damascus. There are two historiographical works among his writings: a biographical dictionary of famous 20

On Ibn al-Athīr and his historical works, see Françoise Micheau, “Ibn al-Athīr,” in Medieval Muslim Historians, pp. 52–83; Pennyman Worsley, The Composition of Ibn al-Athir’s History of the Crusades A. H. 490–516/A.D. 1097–1122 (unpublished Ph.D. Thesis, University of Edinburgh, 1954). On use of Ibn al-Qalānisī’s chronicle by Ibn al-Athīr, see Hamilton A. R. Gibb, “Notes on the Arabic Material for the History of the Early Crusades,” Bulletin of the School of Oriental Studies, University of London 7/4 (1935), 745–54; Pennyman Worsley, The Composition of Ibn al-Athir’s History, pp. 29–74.

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people connected with Aleppo and a history of the city itself. The latter, entitled The Cream of the Milk from the History of Aleppo, is an important source which contains source materials from the dozens of primary sources, including written and oral ones. Kamāl al-Dīn used, above all, the works of Ibn al-Qalānisī, Ibn al-Athīr, the abridged and complete chronicles of al-‛Aẓīmī, and some Muslim chronicles written in the first half of the twelfth century but now lost.21 Finally, the chronicles of Abū’l-Fidā’ (ca. 672/1273–732/1331)22 and Ibn al-Furāt (735–807/1335–1405),23 compiled much later, have no significant new information about the issue and can be used only to supplement the sources mentioned above. Considering Syriac primary sources, we shall firstly mention the world chronicle compiled by Michael the Great (1126–1199), patriarch of the Syrian Orthodox Church.24 Although he was a younger contemporary of the events surrounding the battle of Qinnasrīn and used a dozen sources including ones now lost, he had relatively little interest in the history of the Frankish states. Another Syriac historian, Bar Hebroyo (1125/1226–1286),25 later used Michael the Great’s chronicle as a source for his work. Moreover, Bar Hebroyo’s good knowledge of Arabic did allow him to use Arabic sources common with those Ibn al-Athīr used.26 The Battle of Qinnasrīn within the Context of the Events of 1132 to 1134 The battle of Qinnasrīn was closely linked to another event from the military history of Outremer: The siege of Montferrand Castle (Qal‘at Barin).27 In the spring of 1133 some thousand Turkmens, after crossing the great river of Euphrates, entered Syria from Jazīra and encamped “near the Antiochene lands” (circa partes Antiochenas) within the boundaries of the Muslim principality of 21

22

23

24 25

26 27

Anne-Marie Eddé, “Kamāl al-Dīn ‛Umar Ibn al-‛Adīm,” in Medieval Muslim Historians, pp. 109–35. On the sources of Kamāl al-Dīn’s chronicle, see Ibn al-Qalānisī, p. 11; Cahen, La Syrie du nord, pp. 62–63; Gibb, “Notes on the Arabic Material,” pp. 753–54. Abū’l-Fidā’, “Résumé de l’histoire des croisades tiré des Annales d’Abou’l-Fedâ,” ed. and trans. William MacGuckin de Slane, Recueil des historiens des croisades. Historiens orientaux, 5 vols. (Paris, 1872–1906), 1:2–165. M. Fareed Elshayyal, A Critical Edition of Volume II of Tarikh al-Duwal wa’l Muluk by Muhammad b. Abd al-Rahim b. Ali ibn al-Furat (unpublished Ph.D. thesis, University of Edinburgh, 1986) [hereafter cited as “Ibn al-Furat”]. Michael the Great, The Syriac Chronicle of Michael Rabo (The Great): A Universal History from the Creation, trans. Matti Moosa (Teaneck, 2014). Bar Hebroyo, The Chronography of Gregory Abû’l Faraj, the Son of Aaron, the Hebrew Physician, Commonly Known as Bar Hebraeus, Being the First Part of his Political History of the World, ed. and trans. Ernest A. W. Budge, 2 vols. (Oxford, 1932). Worsley, The Composition of Ibn al-Athir’s History, pp. 83 ff. See Kevin J. Lewis, The Counts of Tripoli and Lebanon in the Twelfth Century: Sons of Saint-Gilles (London; New York, 2017), pp. 112–3; Jean Richard, Le Comté de Tripoli sous la dynastie toulousaine (1102–1187) (Paris, 1945), p. 20, who dates the siege of Montferrand to 1132.



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Aleppo. This was one of the periodic Turkmen raids causing great harm to the Frankish states during that period. From the Aleppan territory, the Turkmen were conducting attacks against the Principality of Antioch. They defeated the “lord of Zardana,” who was killed in battle, and plundered the regions of al-Ma‘arra and Kafartab. The Franks of Antioch, however, repulsed the enemy and even captured the fortress of al-Qubba, northeast of the city of Ḥamāh.28 There is no evidence that Sawār, Zankī’s governor in Aleppo, had intentionally invited the Turkmen to participate in joint military action against the Franks. But, when the Turkmen arrived in the lands of Aleppo, Sawār allowed them to encamp there. Moreover, Sawār himself invaded the County of Edessa and defeated 70 Frankish horsemen near Tell Bashir.29 In this situation, the Franks of Antioch, fearing that the Turkmen and Sawār would unite their forces to make a joint attack on them, sent an embassy to Jerusalem asking for help. After a messenger from Antioch bearing the news of the Turkmen invasion had arrived at Jerusalem, King Fulk summoned “infantry and cavalry forces from all over the realm” (de regno universe equitum peditumque auxiliis) and marched in haste to the aid of the Principality of Antioch. Around that time, the Turkmen left the lands of Aleppo, moved south, and invaded into the County of Tripoli. Count Pons of Tripoli led his army to intercept the enemies, but was defeated and, with few survivors, sought refuge in the castle of Montferrand, where he was besieged by the Turkmen. According to William of Tyre, the siege was led by ‘Imād al-Dīn Zankī himself,30 but this statement, supported by some historians,31 is not credible. As reported in Ibn al-Qalānisī’s chronicle, it was the Turkmen who invaded into the County of Tripoli in Dhu’l-Hijja 526/October 1133.32 Ibn al-Athīr largely follows the report of Ibn al-Qalānisī, but makes an important clarification that the Turkmen “crossed into Syria from the Jazīra.”33 As we can see, the invasion into the County of Tripoli was not a normal military campaign organized by Zankī, as William of Tyre claims, but a Turkmen raid following their invasion

28

29 30 31

32 33

Ibn al-Qalānisī, p. 215; Al-‛Aẓīmī, p. 130; Kamāl al-Dīn, p. 299; William of Tyre, p. 637; Paul Deschamps, Les châteaux des Croisés en Terre-Sainte, 3 vols. (Paris, 1934–1973), 3:112; Cahen, La Syrie du nord, p. 352 n. 16, dated the Turkmen invasion to the winter of 1132/1133. On the Turkmen’s role in military history of twelfth-century Syria, see Abbès Zouache, Armées et combats en Syrie de 491/1098 à 569/1174: Analyse comparée des chroniques médiévales latines et arabes (Damascus, 2008), pp. 259–70. Ibn al-Qalānisī, p. 215; Al-‛Aẓīmī, p. 131; Kamāl al-Dīn, p. 299; Michael the Great, p. 649; Zouache, Armées et combats, pp. 266–67. William of Tyre, pp. 637–38. Lewis, The Counts of Tripoli, p. 112; Michael S. Fulton, Artillery in the Era of the Crusades: Siege Warfare and the Development of Trebuchet Technology (Leiden; Boston, 2018), p. 104. Ibn al-Qalānisī, pp. 221–22. Ibn al-Athīr, p. 303; see also Ibn al-Furat, pp. 38–39.

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into the Principality of Antioch. Moreover, at that time Zankī, being involved into the affairs in Iraq and Iran, was not present in Syria at all.34 Passing through the lands of Tripoli, Fulk of Jerusalem learned from his halfsister Cecilia, Pons of Tripoli’s wife, about what had happened and, responding to her pleas, moved to rescue the Count of Tripoli besieged in Montferrand. According to William of Tyre, after the arrival of relieving forces under the king’s command, the Turkmen lifted the siege and retreated. Muslim chroniclers, however, point out that there was a battle between the Franks – allegedly lead by Pons, who had been able to slip out of Montferrand – and the Turkmen: The latter won, and forced the Franks to retreat to Rafaniya, but did not follow them, instead returning to their lands.35 William’s version, nonetheless, is more credible. A skirmish between the Franks and the Turkmen may have taken place, but the fact that the Turkmen (not Fulk’s army!) retreated makes us acknowledge the victory of the Christians. The Frankish army continued its march towards Antioch. After arriving in the city, Fulk learned that the Turkmen had returned to the lands of Aleppo and encamped near Qinnasrīn (Canestrivum), a place on the small river Quveiq, 25 km southwest of Aleppo.36 At Qinnasrīn they were receiving reinforcements from the neighboring Muslim lands and from there were raiding the lands of Antioch again. The king, with “the full strength of the principality [of Antioch]” and his own troops (convocatis ex omni principatu militaribus copiis, cum suis quos secum habebat familiaribus), marched out against the Muslims and arrived at the fortress of Harim, where he waited for a few days to see what his enemies would do. The Turkmen and the local Muslims who had joined them remained in their camp, perhaps collecting more troops.37 Further events are described in Muslim chronicles. According to Ibn al-­ Qalānisī, the king: arrived at a place called Nawāz. The amīr Sawār, who was [Zankī’s] lieutenant in Aleppo, marched out against him with the ‘askar of Aleppo and some of the Turkmens who joined his forces.38 The two armies met, and engaged in fighting 34 35 36

37 38

See Elisséeff, Nūr ad-Dīn, 2:343–59; El-Azhari, Zengi and the Muslim Response, pp. 65–71. Ibn al-Qalānisī, p. 222; Ibn al-Athīr, p. 303; Abū’l-Fidā’, pp. 20–21; Ibn al-Furat, pp. 37–38. On the place and its history, see Al-Hadir. Étude archéologique d’un hameau de Qinnasrin (Syrie du Nord, VIIe-XIIe siècles), ed. Marie-Odile Rousset (Lyon, 2012); Marie-Odile Rousset, “De Chalcis à Qinnasrin,” Topoi. Orient-Occident. Suppl. 12 (2013), 311–40; Nikita Elisséeff, “Ḳinnasrīn,” Encyclopaedia of Islam, 2nd ed., 12 vols. (Leiden, 1960– 2005), 5:124–25; The Oxford Dictionary of Late Antiquity, ed. Oliver Nicholson, 2 vols. (Oxford, 2018), 2:314–15; Klaus-Peter Todt and Bernd A. Vest, Tabula Imperii Byzantini XV: Syria (Syria Prōtē, Syria Deuteria, Syria Euphratēsia), 3 vols. (Vienna, 2014), 2:1048–59. William of Tyre, pp. 638–39. It seems that significant part of the Turkmen had returned to their homes with booty. Unfortunately, the primary sources do not provide any figures regarding the number of



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and skirmishing until they came to the territory of Qinnasrīn, when the Franks made an attack upon the Muslims and drove them in a disastrous rout, in which they killed about a hundred of the Muslim horsemen, including several leaders of name and reputation. Of the Franks themselves more than that were killed.39

According to William of Tyre, King Fulk, seizing a suitable moment, made a sudden attack on the Muslims, caught them by surprise and inflicted a crushing defeat. The Latin chronicler reports about 3,000 enemies were killed and only a few were able to escape.40 Sawār retreated to Aleppo while the Franks freely passed through the Muslim lands to al-Muqāwama and to Naqira and then returned to Antioch with rich spoils taken in the enemy camp. The Muslims received a moral compensation when Sawār, “with what remained of the ‘askar and the Turks,” marched out from Aleppo for the second time and defeated a Frankish contingent that probably had gotten separated from the main army, and then another one which invaded the lands of Aleppo from the County of Edessa. As reported by Muslim chroniclers, Sawār’s soldiers brought the heads of the slain Franks to Aleppo as a proof of the victory.41 It is worth considering separately the description of the events by Michael the Great. After the siege of Montferrand had been lifted, the king marched to Antioch and “seized by war” the fortress of Qusir (Qusair) to the south of Antioch. Then “he passed through the region of ‘Imm [near Harim] where the Turks were swarming like flies.” At ‘Imm, Count Joscelyn II of Edessa arrived to aid the king, and together they met the Turks in battle and defeated them. According to the Syriac chronicler, the Franks employed the tactical maneuver of the feigned retreat: They “began to run before the Turks trying to lead them out to the plain” and then “struck the Turks with a great blow and chased after them.”42

39 40 41

42

the Franks and the Muslims participating in the battle of Qinnasrīn. I suggest, based on the figures showing the strength of the Frankish and Muslims armies in other battles of the period, that there might have been around 1,500 horsemen and 2,000 footsoldiers under King Fulk’s command, including both the contingents of Jerusalem and Antioch. The number of the Muslims of Aleppo and the Turkmen was probably somewhere around 3,000 horsemen (the ‘askar of Aleppo and remnants of the Turkmen) and 1,000 footsoldiers (mainly irregular forces). On the strength of twelfth-century Syrian armies, see Zouache, Armées et combats, pp. 573 ff. Ibn al-Qalānisī, pp. 222–23. William of Tyre, p. 639: irruit super eos repente et incautos reperiens. Ibn al-Qalānisī, pp. 222–23; Al-‛Aẓīmī, p. 132; Kamāl al-Dīn, pp. 299–300; Ibn al-Athīr, pp. 299–300; Ibn al-Furat, pp. 42–43. Some historians point out that the Edessan troops were a reinforcement sent from Count Joscelyn II of Edessa to King Fulk. Cahen, La Syrie du nord, p. 352; El-Azhari, Zengi and the Muslim Response, p. 69. In fact, however, this was a separate raid of the Franks of Edessa on the Aleppan territory. See Gurinov and Nechitailov, Vojska i vojny, p. 26. According to El-Azhari, Zengi and the Muslim Response, p. 69, Sawār paid a sum of money to Fulk in exchange for a truce, but this statement is not supported by primary sources. Michael the Great, pp. 649–50; Buck, The Principality of Antioch, p. 25.

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Michael the Great is the only one who reports that Joscelyn II participated in the battle of Qinnasrīn. No other writer, including William of Tyre and Bar Hebroyo, mentions the Count of Edessa’s presence in the battle, as well as the feigned retreat of the Franks. Moreover, I suppose that, after the revolt of Alice of Antioch in 1132, King Fulk of Jerusalem did not meet Count Joscelyn II of Edessa until 1137. It seems that Michael the Great has just confused the battle of Qinnasrīn, preceded by the Turkmen siege of Montferrand, with the siege of Montferrand by Zankī in 1137, when the Count of Edessa did participate in the Frankish attempt to relieve the castle.43 The Date of the Battle of Qinnasrīn in Primary Sources and Academic Studies Primary sources give different dates for the battle of Qinnasrīn. William of Tyre does not give the exact date, but only notes that Fulk’s expedition to northern Syria occurred some time after (procedente autem tempore) the revolt of Alice of Antioch, which, in turn, had taken place in the summer of 1132.44 In the chronicle of Ibn al-Qalānisī, the report of the battle of Qinnasrīn, which is dated to “Safar of this [527] year,” i.e. December 12, 1132–January 9, 1133, comes right after the report of the siege of Montferrand, which is dated to Dhu’l-Hijja 527/October 2–31, 1133. The problem is, however, that Dhu’l-Hijja is the twelfth month of the Islamic calendar, while Safar is the second one. Ibn al-Athīr also dates both the events to A. H. 527, but indicates a month (Safar) for the battle of Qinnasrīn only. Moreover, the report on the battle of Qinnasrīn in his chronicle45 precedes that of the siege of Montferrand46 with a gap in the narrative filled with other information. Such a rearrangement seems to be a result of editorial work of the chronicler who, trying to resolve the contradiction between the dates and the sequence of events in Ibn al-Qalānisī’s text, placed the report on the battle of Qinnasrīn before the report of the siege of Montferrand. Ibn al-Furāt gave the same sequence of events as Ibn al-Qalānisī, but provides other dates: A. H. 526/November 1131–November 1132 for the siege of Montferrand and Safar 527/November 1132–October 1133 for the battle of Qinnasrīn.47

43

44 45 46 47

Gurinov and Nechitailov, Vojska i vojny, p. 25. Cf. Nicholas Morton, The Crusader States and Their Neighbours: A Military History, 1099–1187 (Oxford, 2020), pp. 189–92, who supports Michael the Great’s version of events. On the siege of Montferrand in 1137, see Deschamps, Les châteaux des Croisés, 3:24–5, 322; Elisséeff, Nūr ad-Dīn, 2:361–62; Jill N. Claster, Sacred Violence: The European Crusades to the Middle East, 1095–1396 (Toronto, 2009), pp. 145–46; Michael A. Köhler, Alliances and Treaties between Frankish and Muslim Rulers in the Middle East: Cross-Cultural Diplomacy in the Period of the Crusades, trans. Peter M. Holt, ed. Konrad Hirschler (Leiden; Boston, 2013), pp. 137–38. Asbridge, “Alice of Antioch,” pp. 37–39. Ibn al-Athīr, pp. 299–300. Ibid., p. 303. Ibn al-Furat, pp. 38, 42.



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Al-‛Aẓīmī dates the battle of Qinnasrīn to 528/November 1, 1133–October 21, 1134,48 while Kamāl al-Dīn, who used his chronicle as a source, to Rabī’ I, 528/ December 30, 1133–January 28, 1134.49 Michael the Great dates the battle to Kanun I, 1145 Seleucid era/December 1134,50 but his chronology is often inaccurate apparently due to corruption of the text during copying. Bar Hebroyo gives “the year 1445 of the Greeks (yâwân),”51 which corresponds to October 1, 1134–September 30, 1135. Taking into account the variety of dates provided in the primary sources, it is hardly surprising that there is no consensus on the issue among academicians. Many historians suggest, based on the report of Ibn al-Qalānisī and of other chroniclers using his work, that the battle of Qinnasrīn took place in December 1132–January 1133.52 For instance, in his fundamental biography of Nūr al-Dīn, Nikita Elisséeff dated the siege of Montferrand to 527/1133 and the battle of Qinnasrīn to Safar 527/December 1132.53 It seems that Elisséeff considered the two events as completely unrelated, which in turn suggests that he had missed the reports of William of Tyre and Michael the Great. Elisséeff subsequently reiterated this chronological scheme in the entry on “Ḳinnasrīn” in a volume of Brill’s Encyclopaedia of Islam.54 Sir Steven Runciman as well as Peter Lock dated both the battle of Montferrand and that of Qinnasrīn to the spring of 1133, believing that King Fulk left Syria and returned to Jerusalem in the summer of that year.55 In his book on ‘Imād al-Dīn Zankī, Taef El-Azhari inexplicably dates the battle of Qinnasrīn first to the spring of 1133 and then to November 1132.56 The prominent French orientalist Claude Cahen appears to have been the first who compared the dates of the battle of Qinnasrīn in the chronicle of Ibn al-Qalānisī and that of al-‛Aẓīmī, and found out that the date given by Ibn al-Qalānisī is incorrect.57 Apparently, Emily Babcock and August Krey were of the same 48 49 50 51 52

53 54 55 56 57

Al-‛Aẓīmī, p. 132; see also Cahen, La Syrie du nord, p. 352. Kamāl al-Dīn, pp. 299–300. Michael the Great, p. 649; Chronique de Michel le Syrien, patriarche jacobite d’Antioche (1166–1199), ed. and trans. Jean-Baptiste Chabot, 5 vols. (Paris, 1899–1924), 3:234. Bar Hebroy, p. 257. Reinhold Röhricht, Geschichte des Königreichs Jerusalem (1100–1291) (Innsbruck, 1898), p. 197; William B. Stevenson, The Crusaders in the East (Cambridge, 1907), pp. 131–32; René Grousset, Histoire des croisades et du royaume franc de Jérusalem, 3 vols. (Paris, 1934–1936), 2:17; Robert L. Nicholson, “The Growth of the Latin States, 1118–1144,” in A History of the Crusades, ed. Kenneth M. Setton et al., 2nd ed., 6 vols. (Madison, 1969– 1989), 1:434; Hans E. Mayer, Die Kanzlei, 2:855; Abbès Zouache, “Zangî, stratège averti (522/1128 à 541/1146)? Réexamen des sources latines et arabes,” Bulletin d’études orientales 56 (2004–2005), pp. 73–74. Elisséeff, Nūr ad-Dīn, 2:351–52. Idem, “Ḳinnasrīn,” p. 125. Steven Runciman, A History of the Crusades, 3 vols. (Cambridge, 1951–1954), 2:195–96; Peter Lock, The Routledge Companion to the Crusades (London; New York, 2006), p. 41. El-Azhari, Zengi and the Muslim Response, pp. 28, 69, 128. Cahen, La Syrie du nord, p. 352 n. 19. Deschamps, Les châteaux des Croisés, 3:112 and n. 1 (with reference to Cahen), endorsed that conclusion.

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opinion in their comments on William of Tyre’s account,58 although they had not examined other Muslim sources than Ibn al-Qalānisī’s chronicle. Jonathan Phillips and Thomas Asbridge have reached a similar conclusion, dating the battle to the end of 1133–beginning of 1134.59 Klaus-Peter Todt and Bernard Andreas Vest date the battle of Qinnasrīn to January 1134.60 Nicholas Morton is of the same opinion.61 Conclusion As shown above, the Muslim chronicles are of greatest importance to determine when the battle of Qinnasrīn took place. Actually, we have two traditions, one of which goes back to Ibn al-Qalānisī and dates the battle to Safar 527/December 1132–January 1133, and the other goes back to al-‛Aẓīmī and dates the battle to Rabī’ I 528/January 1134, as reported by Kamal al-Din. We can conditionally call the former tradition Damascene and the latter Aleppan. If we compare all the reports on the battle to each other, we will see that the date of the siege of Montferrand is October 1133 and the date of the battle of Qinnasrīn is January 1134. The chronology of Ibn al-Qalānisī can be accepted as correct only if it shows that the siege of Montferrand and the battle of Qinnasrīn were two different campaigns of King Fulk of Jerusalem. Such a hypothesis, however, contradicts the report of William of Tyre, who reports that Fulk was on his way to Antioch when he was asked for help by Cecilia, his half-sister and Pons of Tripoli’s wife. The royal historian William of Tyre, undoubtedly, was much more aware of the situation among the Franks than the Muslim chroniclers were. Michael the Great, who states that King Fulk marched to Antioch immediately after lifting the siege of Montferrand, supports William of Tyre’s version. It should be emphasized that in this case we are dealing with two wholly independent historiographical traditions: Latin and Syriac. Additionally, although both Ibn al-Qalānisī and al-‛Aẓīmī were contemporaries of the events they recorded in their chronicles, the latter was from Aleppo and, therefore, was more familiar with local circumstances than the former. For instance, while Ibn al-Qalānisī notes that “several leaders of name and reputation” were killed among the Muslims in the battle of Qinnasrīn,62 al-‛Aẓīmī mentioned them by name, as did Kamāl al-Dīn.63 In Ibn al-Qalānisī’s chronicle, the section describing the events of A. H. 527 ends with the report of the battle of Qinnasrīn, which comes immediately after the report of the siege of Montferrand, but is wrongly dated: “in Safar of this

58 59 60 61 62 63

William of Tyre, A History of Deeds Done Beyond the Sea, trans. Emily A. Babcock, August C. Krey, 2 vols. (New York, 1943), 2:57 n. 19. Phillips, Defenders of the Holy Land, p. 49; Asbridge, “Alice of Antioch,” p. 38. Todt and Vest, Tabula Imperii Byzantini, 2:1053. Morton, The Crusader States and their Neighbours, pp. 102, 190, 195. Ibn al-Qalānisī, p. 223. Al-‛Aẓīmī, p. 132; Kamāl al-Dīn, p. 300.



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year.” The mistake (Safar 527) almost certainly arose from the methods the Arabic chroniclers used in composing his works. As Stevenson wrote, “to avoid the breaking off of a narrative at an inconvenient point,” the Arab historian of the period of the crusades “may overrun the year slightly or may carry part of his narrative forward, or may recapitulate when he comes to resume it under the next year. In any case, his readers are sometimes misled regarding the year in which some of the events recorded took place. Incidents which fall at the beginning or end of Moslem years are evidently most likely to be taken a year forward or set a year back.”64 The incorrect chronology might also have arisen from the fact that Ibn al-Qalānisī, who lived in Damascus and based his work to a large extent on other people’s reports, could had been wrongly informed of the date of the battle of Qinnasrīn. Finally, it might be a result of a mistake made by a copyist who may have written the report of the battle down not under A. H. 528, as it should have been, but under A. H. 527.

64

Stevenson, The Crusaders in the East, p. 356.

4 Bella plus quam civilia? The Place of Battle in the Context of Civil War under the Anglo-Norman and Angevin Kings, c. 1100–c. 1217 Matthew Strickland

This paper examines how the context of civil war in the Anglo-Norman and Angevin realms c. 1100–c. 1216 might further accentuate the challenges faced by leaders in making the critical decision as to whether to avoid or to commit to battle. Whereas a commander confronting an external opponent might withdraw or refusal battle until a more advantageous moment presented itself, a ruler whose legitimacy was contested could ill-afford to harm his authority by being seen to refuse trial by battle. If defeated, however, such authority could be gravely undermined and, as shown by the case of King Stephen’s capture in 1141, the sacrality of kingship itself damaged. Conversely, while victory would bolster prestige and legitimacy, as well as striking a potentially decisive blow to rival forces, a leader’s own desire to give battle might be compromised by fear of disloyalty and defection before or during battle, or thwarted by the nobility’s deep-rooted reluctance to engage in a potentially self-destructive combat. While many nobles shrank from fighting against the person of the king during rebellion, battles fought in the context of civil wars reveal the significance of disinherited magnates in aggressive attacks upon their erstwhile lords. “A greater event cannot take place among men than one wherein lies the fortunes of all the land, the state of the prince and the life of an infinite number of persons, the honour or dishonour of the overlord, the knights and all the nobility.”1 So wrote Christine de Pizan in her Livre des faites d’armes et de chevalerie, composed around 1410, concerning the enormous stakes that a pitched battle could involve. Much of her text comprises a vernacular reworking of Vegetius’ De re militari, and it has been the debate concerning the nature of “Vegetian strategy” and the place of battle within strategic thinking that has run, from the very first issue of the Journal of Medieval Military History, as a rich thematic seam through research on medieval warfare across a wide chronological and geographical span. Whether one inclines toward the “Gillingham 1

Christine de Pizan, The Book of Deeds of Arms and of Chivalry, tr. S. Willard and C. C. Willard (University Park, Pennsylvania, 1999), p. 61 (Bk I: xxi).

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paradigm” with its emphasis on the avoidance of battle,2 or to the important revisionist emphasis on battle-seeking strategies, particularly powerfully argued for in Cliff Rogers’ work on the campaigns of Edward III and the Hundred Years War,3 the effect of this dialectic has been to re-emphasize the central place of battle – whether sought, avoided or fought – in our understanding of medieval warfare. That place, moreover, as Stephen Morillo has so clearly highlighted, could be shaped by complex cultural factors as much as by the essentially military concerns discussed by Vegetius such as the size of opposing forces, the terrain, the advantages of wind or sun, or the level of training and morale of one’s own men.4 Arguably, the most significant of these cultural factors was the nature of the enemy. On a number of prominent occasions where pitched battle between Angevin and Capetian armies seemed imminent, such as at Châteauroux in 1188 or at Issoudun in 1195, battle was avoided at the last moment through negotiation.5 The desire to draw back from a potentially bloody large-scale encounter reflected close bonds of kinship, marriage and friendships reaching beyond political rivalries, as well as a deep awareness of a common chivalric culture, increasingly reinforced through the mechanism of the tournament. In addition, ties of lordship might act as a potent constraint, as vassals might shrink (though far from invariably) from directly fighting with the person of their lord: Henry II’s refusal to press home his attack on Toulouse in 1159 once

2

3

4

5

John Gillingham, “Richard I and the Science of War in the Middle Ages,” War and Government in the Middle Ages, ed. J. Gillingham and J. C. Holt (Cambridge, 1984), pp. 78–91; idem., “William the Bastard at War,” in Studies in History Presented to R. Allen Brown, ed. by C. Harper-Bill, C. Holdsworth and J. Nelson (Woodbridge, 1989), pp. 141–158; idem, “War and Chivalry in the History of William the Marshal,” Thirteenth Century England 2 (1987–1988), pp. 1–3, with all three papers reprinted in Anglo-Norman Warfare, ed. M. J. Strickland (Woodbridge, 1992), at pp. 194–207, 143–60, and 51–63 respectively; and John Gillingham, “‘Up with Orthodoxy!’ In Defense of Vegetian Warfare,” Journal of Medieval Military History 2 (2004), 149–58. Clifford J. Rogers, “Edward III and the Dialectics of Strategy,” Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, sixth ser., 4 (1994), 83–102; idem., War, Cruel and Sharp. English Strategy under Edward III (Woodbridge, 2000); idem, “The Vegetian “Science of Warfare” in the Middle Ages,” Journal of Medieval Military History 1 (2003), 1–19; “Henry V’s Military Strategy in 1415,” in The Hundred Years War: A Wider Focus, ed. L. J. A. Villalon and D. J. Kagay (Leiden, 2005), pp. 399–428; and idem., “The Battle of Agincourt,” in The Hundred Years War: Different Vistas, ed. D. Kagay and L. J. A. Villalon (Leiden, 2008), pp. 37–132. Stephen Morillo, “Battle Seeking: The Context and Limits of Vegetian Strategy,” Journal of Medieval Military History 1 (2003), 21–41; and cf. idem., “A General Typology of Transcultural Wars. The Early Middle Ages and Beyond,” Transcultural Wars from the Middle Ages to the 21st Century, ed. H.-H. Kortum (Berlin, 2005), pp. 29–42. These incidents and the reluctance to engage in battle are discussed further in Matthew J. Strickland, “Henry I and the Battle of the Two Kings: Brémule, 1119,” Normandy and its Neighbours, 900–1250: Essays for David Bates, ed. D. Crouch and K. Thompson (Turnhout, 2011), pp. 77–116, at pp. 88–89.



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Louis VII had entered the city is a well-known example, but it by no means stands in isolation.6 What then of the place of battle in the context of civil war in the AngloNorman and Angevin realms during the long twelfth century? Such conflict was by its very nature intra-cultural, dividing the political elite and setting families and friends at odds, as well as frequently pitting erstwhile lords and vassals against one another. Little wonder that a number of chroniclers drew on Lucan’s De bello civile (also known as the Pharsalia), written ca. 61–65 AD concerning the struggle between Caesar and Pompey, to label such internecine conflict as “bella plus quam civilia”: “a worse than civil war.”7 The distinction between rebellion and civil war might often be blurred, but I shall focus here on those campaigns in which, instead of simply facing the forces of dissident magnates (as, for instance, did King John in 1215, or Henry III in 1264–1265), a ruler was challenged by an opponent with strong claims to legitimate rule, usually drawn from within the dynasty – be it a brother, son, nephew, or cousin. How might tensions between strategic aims and political and cultural restraints manifest themselves? How did a ruler’s fear of betrayal in times of volatile loyalties affect the ability to offer battle, and what factors might serve to counteract such uncertainties? And finally, how did victory or defeat inform ideas of legitimacy in wars fought over contested claims to rulership? A major engagement offered the prospect of a decisive outcome to ongoing civil conflict, a resolution to contested authority and a powerful assertion of right attained through a God-given victory. At Tinchebray in 1106, Robert Curthose sought a major field engagement with his brother Henry as a last, desperate attempt to halt Henry’s relentless conquest of his duchy of Normandy: Orderic Vitalis is alone in telling of prolonged negotiations to stave off combat and of Henry’s generous offers to Robert, and it may well be that the duke attempted to take his brother’s army by surprise.8 Though at Tinchebray Robert lost this 6

7

8

See Matthew J. Strickland, “Against the Lord’s Anointed: Aspects of Warfare and Baronial Rebellion in England and Normandy, 1075–1265,” Law and Government in Medieval England and Normandy. Essays Presented to Sir James Holt, ed. G. Garnett and J. Hudson (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 56–79, and on the reluctance of Anglo-Norman king-dukes to attack the person of the King of France, Strickland, “Henry I and the Battle of the Two Kings,” pp. 90–94. Lucan, The Civil War, ed. and trans J. Henderson and J. D. Duff (Cambridge, M.A., and London, 1928), I, l. 1, pp. 2–3. On the influence of Lucan on twelfth-century chroniclers and their depictions of the miseries of civil war, with a particular focus on Henry of Huntingdon, see Catherine A. M. Clarke, “Crossing the Rubicon: History, Authority and Civil War in Twelfth-Century England,” War and Literature, ed. L. Ashe and I. Patterson (Cambridge, 2014), pp. 61–83; and for further examples of Angevin chroniclers’ use of this phrase see Michael Staunton, The Historians of Angevin England (Oxford, 2017), p. 196 and n.57. The Ecclesiastical History of Orderic Vitalis (hereafter Orderic), ed. and trans. M. Chibnall, six vols. (Oxford, 1969–1980), 6:84–89; and for the battle and its context, see Charles W. David, Robert Curthose, Duke of Normandy (Cambridge, Mass., 1920), Appendix F, “The Battle of Tinchebrai,” pp. 245–48, and the valuable collection of papers in Tinche-

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gambit and his liberty, in 1141 Earl Robert of Gloucester, the Empress Mathilda’s half-brother and de facto leader of the Angevin cause, achieved a notable victory when he attacked King Stephen as he was besieging Lincoln castle.9 As Robert’s encomiast William of Malmesbury put it, the earl, “loathing delay because his noble country, for the sake of two persons, was being tormented by the plunder and slaughter of civil war,” had “preferred, if God should allow it, to hazard a final decision.”10 Stephen’s ensuing capture might indeed have ended the war, had Robert himself not been taken prisoner only months later during the Angevins’ fighting retreat from Winchester, and exchanged for the king.11 Undeterred, Robert, who emerges very much as a battle-seeking strategist, came close to capturing Stephen once again in 1143 when he launched a surprise dusk attack on the royal army encamped at Wilton, forcing the king into a precipitous flight.12 To the chronicler Henry, archdeacon of Huntingdon, it seemed only fitting that Robert’s nephew, Henry FitzEmpress, duke of Normandy, should win just such a victory to end the civil war for good. He prefaced his account of Henry’s final campaign against King Stephen in 1153 by envisaging the invading duke discoursing with the personification of “wretched England,” a distraught woman “long since destroyed, but now, through his coming, about to recover life.” “Do you see the great battles that Stephen is stirring up?,” England warns Henry, to which the duke replies: “I want him to start them, for surely there would be no glory if he stirred up no battles…through bloodshed I seek peace for you, my sweet foster-daughter, for whom I have taken on such great dangers.”13 Huntingdon, however, was writing safely in the knowledge that there had, in fact, been no such encounter to set Henry II on the throne, but rather that “God had provided that He would deliver the land to His child without bloodshed.”14 For, in reality, powerful factors might work against a decisive showdown. Para-

9 10 11

12

13

14

bray 1106–2006, Actes du colloque de Tinchebray (28–30 Septembre 2006), ed. V. Gazeau and J. A. Green, Le Pays Bas-Normand 271–272 (2009). Edmund J. King, King Stephen (London and New Haven, 2010), pp. 145–54. William of Malmesbury, Historia novella, ed. E. King and tr. K. R. Potter (Oxford, 1998), pp. 82–83. For this engagement, see Rosalind Hill, “The Battle of Stockbridge, 1141,” Studies in Medieval History Presented to R. Allen Brown, pp. 173–78; Jim Bradbury, Stephen and Matilda: The Civil War of 1139–53 (Stroud, 1996), pp. 108–12. Gesta Stephani, ed. and trans K. Potter, with introduction and notes by R. H. C. Davis (Oxford, 1976), pp. 144–48; The Historical Works of Gervase of Canterbury, ed. W. Stubbs, 2 vols. (London, 1879–1880), 1:125–26; Annales de Waverleia, in Annales Monastici, ed. H. R. Luard, 5 vols. (London, 1864–1869), 2:229; David Crouch, The Reign of King Stephen (Harlow, 2000), p. 207. The king’s baggage train was captured, as was his leading supporter William Martel as he led a rear-guard action to allow the king to escape. Henry, Archdeacon of Huntingdon, Historia Anglorum (hereafter Huntingdon), ed. and trans. D. Greenway (Oxford, 1996), pp. 760–61; and see the valuable discussion by Catherine A. M. Clarke, “Writing Civil War in Henry of Huntingdon’s Historia Anglorum,” Anglo-Norman Studies, 31 (2009), 31–47. Huntingdon, pp. 764–65; and Diana Greenway, “Authority, Convention and Observation



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doxically, while rulers faced enormous pressure to accept battle if proffered by dynastic rivals and to defend the legitimacy of their rule by the ordeal of a praelium campestre, it was precisely in times of divided loyalties that their ability to do so might be undermined by fears, real or imagined, of desertion or betrayal. These factors, moreover, were often reinforced by a deep reluctance to shed the blood of kinsmen, friends and countrymen, which could lead to the political elite refusing to engage in mutual destruction. Avoidance of Battle: Pressure from the Nobility From at least the Carolingian period, the shedding of blood in major battles between fellow Franks (and thus fellow Christians) had been seen as a grievous sin, so much so that after the battles of Fontenoy in 841, fought between the grandsons of Charlemagne, and of Soissons, 923, between Charles the Simple and Robert the Strong, the Frankish bishops had enjoined penance on all combatants.15 Though such penitentials had disappeared by the end of the eleventh century, there remained an instinctive awareness that battle between kinsmen and friends was both unnatural and harmful to the strength of the polity. In 1052, open conflict was averted between King Edward the Confessor and Godwine Earl of Wessex, because, in the words of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, “it was hateful to almost all of them to fight against men of their own race, for there was little else that was worth anything apart from Englishmen on either side; and also they did not wish the country to be laid open to foreigners through destroying each other.”16 Similarly, when in 1153 Duke Henry attempt to relieve Wallingford, the strategic key to the upper Thames valley, by attacking Stephen’s siege castle at Crowmarsh, battle seemed imminent. As the anonymous author of the Gesta Stephani noted: It was terrible and very dreadful to see so many thousands of armed men eager to join battle with drawn swords, determined, to the general prejudice of the kingdom, to kill their own relatives and kin. Wherefore the leading men of the army, and those of deeper judgment, were greatly grieved and shrank, on both sides, from a conflict that was not merely between fellow countrymen but meant the desolation of the whole kingdom.17

15 16

17

in Henry of Huntington’s Historia Anglorum,” Anglo-Norman Studies 19 (1995), 105–21, at p. 114, dating this section of Book X to c. 1155. Nithardi historiarum libri IV, ed. E. Müller, MGH: SSRG 44 (Hannover, 1907), II.9–10, pp. 26–27; Philippe Contamine, War in the Middle Ages (Oxford, 1984), pp. 267–69. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle: A Collaborative Edition, general editors David N. Dumville and Simon D. Keynes, 9 vols. (Cambridge, 1983–), Volume 5. MS. C, ed. K. O’Brien O’Keefe (Cambridge, 2001), p. 113; English Historical Documents, I, c. 500–1042, 2nd edition, ed. D. Whitelock (London, 1979), p. 127. Gesta Stephani, pp. 238–39. For the importance of Wallingford in the war, and for Stephen’s siege castle at Crowmarsh see Oliver H. Creighton and Duncan W. Wright, The

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In such circumstances, even if rival rulers mutually sought a decisive battle, it might prove difficult or impossible for them to convince their supporters to engage in one.18 At Crowmarsh, the leading nobles intervened to establish a truce that culminated in the Treaty of Winchester, which allowed Stephen to remain king for the rest of his life but which made Henry Plantagenet his heir.19 Similarly, when in 1101 the forces of Duke Robert Curthose had confronted those of his younger brother Henry I in battle array at Alton, near Winchester, “the nobles, preferring not to take sides in a war between brothers, arranged a peace treaty between them….”20 Indeed, in this campaign, which has been traditionally labeled “the Anglo-Norman civil war of 1101,” there was no fighting at all; rather, the magnates sought to reconcile the competing claims of the two brothers, stipulating that “whoever lived the longer would be the other’s heir if he should die without a son,” and thus hopefully re-uniting the divided AngloNorman regnum.21 Though such peaceful settlements avoided bloodshed, chroniclers were often jaundiced in the motives they ascribed to the nobility. Thus, Henry of Huntingdon, anxious to explain why Duke Henry had been cheated of a glorious victory in the field to save the kingdom, accused the magnates of a cynical ploy to prevent one of the two protagonists from becoming too powerful: the nobles, or rather the traitors (proceres–immo, proditores), of England, set themselves up, making peace among themselves, for although they loved discord more than anything, they were unwilling to go to war, since they did not care to raise up either Stephen or Henry, lest if one of them were defeated, the other should be free to lord it over them, but rather that if one were in continual fear of the other, neither would be able to exercise royal power over them. So when the king and the duke each discovered their followers’ treachery, they were reluctantly compelled to arrange a truce between themselves.22

18

19

20

21 22

Anarchy. War and Status in 12th-Century Landscapes of Conflict (Liverpool, 2016), pp. 62–74. In his account of the war between Edmund Ironside and Cnut in 1016, Huntingdon, pp. 360–61, has the nobles propose single combat between the two rulers, exclaiming, “Why do we so often rush foolishly into mortal danger? Let those who want to reign as individuals fight as individuals.” For the legendary story of the ensuing duel between Edmund and Cnut which had emerged by the twelfth century, see Cyril E. Wright, The Cultivation of Saga in Anglo-Saxon England (Edinburgh, 1939), pp. 191–97. On the settlement and its context see James C. Holt, “1153: The Treaty of Winchester,” The Anarchy of Stephen’s Reign, ed. E. J. King (Oxford, 1994), pp. 291–316; and Edmund J. King, King Stephen (London and New Haven, 2010), pp. 277–91. Huntingdon, pp. 450–51, and cf. Orderic, 5:318–21; C. Warren Hollister, “The AngloNorman Civil War, 1101,” English Historical Review,88 (1973) pp. 315–34, and reprinted in idem., Monarchy, Magnates and Institutions in the Anglo-Norman World (London, 1986), pp. 77–96. Huntingdon, pp. 450–51; Neil Strevett, “The Anglo-Norman Civil War of 1101 Reconsidered,” Anglo-Norman Studies 26 (2004), 159–75. Huntingdon, pp. 766–67.



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Orderic, by contrast, depicted the nobles on both sides at Alton in 1101 as being bent on war, “and, because they were more concerned with their private interests than with the common good, cunning messengers twisted words and sowed seeds of dispute rather than of concord between the brothers.” Conflict was only prevented when Henry, the rex pacificus, met alone with his brother and came to amicable terms.23 Such views, however, were less a reflection of political realities than of the tendency of ecclesiastical writers to regard the nobility as a force of disorder and strife, requiring the smack of firm government, and did little justice to the complex motivations of the ruling elites. Avoidance of Battle: Fear of Treachery Nevertheless, in situations of rebellion or civil war, rulers themselves might harbor similar suspicions of double-dealing, and their military capability might be severely hampered by fears of treachery. Nowhere is this more starkly seen than in the campaigns of King John, whose failure to halt the collapse of his position in Normandy from 1202 was in large part due to his increasing fear of betrayal, especially after the critical defection of John, Count of Alençon in January, 1203.24 In Ralph of Coggeshall’s words, John “could bring no help to the besieged because he went all the time in fear of his subjects’ treason.”25 In 1212, John’s massive preparations for an expedition in Wales came to naught because of a baronial plot to assassinate him, while in 1214, English chroniclers alleged that it was the Poitevins’ refusal to attack Prince Louis’ army which had come to the relief of Roche-aux-Moines that fatally thwarted John’s own role in his grand strategy of catching Philip in a pincer movement between his forces and those of Otto IV and his allies.26 John’s reign was here exceptional only in the extent and duration of such threats. Throughout the war of 1173–1174 against his son Henry the Young King and his allies, Henry II was plagued with fears of disloyalty and betrayal (which, as Stephen Isaac has shown, he sought to mask with a studied bravado and sang froid), while in 1183, he had been forced to abandon the siege of Limoges because of widespread desertion in favor of the Young King.27 Similarly, Orderic

23 24 25 26

27

Orderic, 5:318–19. For which see Daniel Power, “The End of Angevin Normandy: The Revolt at Alençon (1203),” Historical Research 74 (2001), 444–64. Radulphi de Coggeshall chronicum Anglicanum, ed. J. Stevenson (London, 1875), p. 144. For the plot of 1212, see James C. Holt, The Northerners, 2nd edn. (Oxford, 1992), pp. 79–84; and for John’s failed campaign in 1214, Martin Aurell, “La bataille de la Roche-auxMoines: Jean Sans Terre et la prétendue traîtrise des Poitevins,” Academie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, comptes rendus des séances de l’année 2017, Janvier-Mars (Paris, 2017), pp. 459–89 Matthew J. Strickland, Henry the Young King, 1153–1183 (New Haven and London, 2016), pp. 178–80, 301–04; Stephen Isaac, “Cowardice and Fear Management: The 1173–74 Conflict as a Case Study,” JMMH 4 (2006), 50–64.

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noted of Henry I’s war in 1118 against the supporters of William Clito, son of Robert Curthose and rightful claimant to Normandy: At that time King Henry could not support a long siege, because in the general confusion that always occurs in the conflict between kinsmen he was unable to trust his own men. Men who ate with him favoured the cause of his nephew, and, by prying into his secrets, greatly helped these men.28

In this and other rebellions, the protracted nature of sieges offered ample opportunities for collusion by those in the king’s army secretly favoring friends, kinsmen or partisans among the besieged: supplies might be smuggled in, information leaked, or pressure put on the ruler not to press home the attack, or if he did, not to punish defeated rebels too severely.29 But in situations of civil war, nowhere was the fear of desertion or betrayal brought more to the fore than when battle was imminent. At Bouvines in 1214, Philip Augustus feared the disloyalty of Gaucher de Chatillon, the count of St Pol, who, noted William the Breton, “because he was well aware of this suspicion, quipped…that the King was to find him to be a good traitor today.”30 In his Richard III, Shakespeare (drawing on an apocryphal story found in Hall’s Chronicle) famously has John Howard, duke of Norfolk, show Richard a note that had been pinned to his tent on the morning of the battle of Bosworth: “Jockey of Norfolk, be not so bold, for Dickon thy master is bought and sold.”31 Richard dismisses it as “A thing devisèd by the enemy,” but for other rulers, fear of betrayal could a powerful factor in avoiding a major engagement. In 1119 Henry I had been terrified of treachery when faced by the attacks of Louis VI and William Clito, and according to the chronicle composed for the powerful Warenne family, at Brémule it was only after William de Warenne convinced Henry of his loyalty and those of others, and placed himself in the front rank as a token of his fidelity, that the king felt able to stand and fight.32 Such fears were not groundless. In 1153, King Stephen sought to relieve Malmesbury castle, besieged by Duke Henry, but according to the Gesta Stephani shrank from battle after observing “that some of his leading barons were slack and very casual in their service and had already sent envoys by stealth and made a compact with the duke.”33 The king was informed by bitter experience: describing Stephen’s earlier defeat at Lincoln in 1141, Orderic believed that “in 28 29 30 31 32 33

Orderic, 6:200–01. Matthew J. Strickland, War and Chivalry. The Conduct and Perception of War in England and Normandy, 1066–1217 (Cambridge, 1996), pp. 247–48. Ouevres de Rigord et de Guillaume le Breton, historiens de Philippe Auguste, ed. H.-F. Delaborde, 2 vols. (Paris, 1882–1885), 1:276. Richard III, Act 5, Scene 3, lines 304–306; Hall’s Chronicle, ed. H. Ellis (London, 1809), p. 419. The Warenne (Hyde) Chronicle, ed. and trans. E. M. C. Van Houts and R. C. Love (Oxford, 2013), pp. 74–77; Strickland, “Henry I and the Battle of the Two Kings,” pp. 83–85. Gesta Stephani, pp. 234–35.



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that battle, treachery ran wild. Some of the magnates joined the king with only a handful of their men and sent the main body of their retainers to secure the victory for his adversaries. In this way, they betrayed their fealty to their lord and can be rightly condemned as perjurers and traitors.”34 Henry of Huntingdon similarly noted that Stephen “placed the earls, with their men, in two lines to fight on horseback. But these divisions of cavalry were very small, for the false and factious earls had brought few forces with them.”35 The threat of desertion became still more acute for those rulers who were confronted by their own heirs. Roger of Howden reported that at the height of the bitter war in Aquitaine in 1183, Henry the Young King had intended to engage in a pitched battle with his father (campestris praelio invadere). Though in the event young Henry’s sudden death from dysentery saved the Old King, Howden noted that he had been thrown into great confusion and mental anguish, faced with the choice between flight, which would redound to his lasting shame, or fighting against his own son in the uncertain contest of battle, at a time when there were very few with him who he could trust to faithfully fight for him.36 In 1187, Henry II had had sufficient confidence to face down Philip Augustus at Châteauroux, when the Angevin and Capetians armies drew up for battle, but in 1189 when confronted with his son Richard’s defection to Philip and their combined attack, Henry’s support rapidly crumbled in a wave of desertions: this time there was no option of battle, but only of increasingly disordered withdrawal and flight.37 The inability to commit forces to battle through lack of trust could have disastrous strategic consequences. Had King John contested the landing of Prince Louis’ invasion fleet near Dover in 1216, the French gambit might have failed and the baronial rebels remained fatally isolated.38 Yet at this critical moment, John dared not confront Louis and pulled his forces back because, so the annals of Dunstaple believed, “he did not fully trust his own men and therefore chose to retreat for a time, rather than to give battle on an uncertainty.”39 He had been advised to do so, it adds, by William the Marshal, but the

34 35 36 37 38

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Orderic, 6:542–43. Huntingdon, pp. 732–33. Gesta Henrici Secundi Benedicti abbatis, ed. W. Stubbs, 2 vols. (London, 1867), 1:302. Gesta Henrici, 2:67–69.; W. L. Warren, Henry II (London, 1977), pp. 622–27. For the campaigns of 1216 up to John’s death see Charles E. Petit-Dutaillis, Étude sur la vie et le règne de Louis VIII, 1187–1226 (Paris, 1894), pp. 97–111; Sean McGlynn, Blood Cries From Afar. The Forgotten Invasion of 1216 (Stroud, 2011), pp. 167–85; and C. Hanley, Louis: The French Prince who Invaded England (New Haven and London, 2016), pp. 89–117. Annales prioratus de Dunstaplia, in Annales monastici, ed. Luard, 3:46–7; Anonymous of Béthune, Chronique des rois de France, in Receuil des historiens des Gaules et de la France, vol. 24, ed. L. Delisle (Paris, 1870), p. 771, “li rois Johans ne l’osa pas atendre”; Anonymous of Béthune, Histoire des ducs de Normandie et des rois d’Angleterre, ed. F. Michel (Paris, 1840), pp. 169–70; and Annales de Wintonia, in Annales monastici, ed. Luard, 2:82, “Johannes rex terga dedit, licet facile posset resistere.”

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deafening silence concerning this episode in the History of William the Marshal itself suggests that such counsel had subsequently drawn suspicions of treachery from those in Henry III’s supporters hostile to the Marshal family.40 Unopposed, Louis made rapid gains, soon controlling much of Kent, taking Rochester and entering London in triumph.41 Countermeasures How then might such fears of desertion and betrayal in battle be countered? The widespread use of mercenaries by Anglo-Norman and Angevin kings was, as has long been recognized, precisely because of their dependability in times of rebellion or divided political allegiance. Roger of Wendover nevertheless believed that at Dover in 1216, John had retreated because he feared his stipendiary knights from France would abandon him and join Louis.42 Even if true, however, such circumstances were exceptional, and in 1215 it was these same Flemish and French knights who, at the siege of Rochester, had enabled John to proffer battle to the baronial relief army led by Robert fitzWalter, which thereupon wisely withdrew.43 Similarly, in August 1173, it was the large numbers of Brabançon routiers in his army that allowed Henry II formally to offer battle to Louis VII and the Young King’s allies who were besieging Verneuil, and to do so again at his relief of Rouen in 1174.44 The knights of the familia regis were still more dependable, and even without the presence of the king, their

40

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Matthaei Parisiensis, monachi Sancti Albani, chronica majora (hereafter Matthew Paris, Chronica majora), ed. H. R. Luard, 7 vols. (London, 1872–1884), 3:25–26, for William’s supposed favor towards Louis, and 4:157, where Paris believed that one of the charges Henry III himself used to withhold Walter Marshal’s inheritance on the death of his brother Gilbert in 1241, was that William had saved Prince Louis from capture in 1217, “non sine nota proditionis,” See also David Crouch, William Marshal, 3rd edn. (Abingdon, 2016), pp. 110–13, 168–69. Annales de Dunstaplia, p. 46; Matthew Paris, Chronica majora, 2:654. Ibid., 2:653–54; Roger of Wendover’s Flowers of History, tr. J. A. Giles, 2 vols. (London, 1849), 2:364, noting that because John was “surrounded with foreign mercenaries and knights from provinces over the sea, he did not venture to attack Louis on his landing, lest in the battle they might all leave him and go over to the side of Louis.” The anonymous of Béthune remarked that John’s fear and irresolution in the face of Louis at Sandwich disgusted Robert of Béthune and his contingent of knights, but they only left the king’s service after John’s withdrawal from Winchester, where he again failed to challenge Louis and raise the French siege (Histoire des Ducs, pp. 169–70, 173–4; and see also John Gillingham, “The Anonymous of Béthune, King John and Magna Carta,” in Magna Carta and the England of King John, ed. J. S. Loengard [Woodbridge, 2010], pp. 27–44). Memoriale fratris Walteri de Coventria, ed. W. Stubbs, 2 vols. (London, 1872–1873), 2:226, where these stipendiaries are said to be from Poitou, Gascony and Flanders, while there were also Brabançons; and see Stephen Church, “The Earliest English Muster Roll, 18–19 December, 1215,” Historical Research 67 (1994), 1–17. Gesta Henrici, 1:51–2. where Howden gives the improbably large figure of more than ten thousand Brabançons with Henry: ibid., 1:72, 74–75.



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loyalty and professionalism allowed units of them to defeat rebel forces in field engagements, such as at Bourgthéroulde, 1124, Dol and Fornham in 1173, and Alnwick in 1174.45 Trust, moreover, could be placed in royal bastards as divisional commanders, for owing everything to the king, their loyalty was unquestioned. At Brémule in 1119, it was Henry’s natural sons Robert of Gloucester and Richard who commanded the division of closely packed infantry who finally defeated the mounted charge of Louis and William Clito’s knights.46 Another of Henry I’s illegitimate sons, Reginald, earl of Cornwall, was among the commanders of the victorious royalist army at Fornham in 1173, and as Craig Nakashian has demonstrated, Henry II’s bastard Geoffrey Plantagenet, bishop elect of Lincoln, played a key role in the campaigns of 1174.47 As chancellor, Geoffrey commanded one of the four main units of Henry II’s army in 1187 (together with Richard, John and William de Mandeville), and would presumably have led this division in combat against Philip Augustus at Châteauroux in June of that year, had not nobles from both sides intervened to prevent the seemingly imminent battle.48 Another of Henry II’s natural sons, William Longéspee, Earl of Salisbury, was to play a still more prominent role, both on land and sea, in the wars of his halfbrother King John.49 Whether he took part in John’s striking victory at Mirebeau in 1202 is unknown, but whereas in 1214 John failed to bring Prince Louis to battle, Salisbury commanded the English contingent at Bouvines, where he fought bravely before being captured. Though of a considerably lower profile, several of John’s own natural sons can be glimpsed fighting for their father or their nephew Henry III.50 45

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Orderic, 6:348–53; Gesta Henrici, 1:66–7; Strickland, Henry the Young King, pp. 176–77, 195–96; and John D. Hosler, “Chivalric Carnage? Fighting, Capturing and Killing at Dol and Fornham, 1173,” in Prowess, Piety, and Public Order in Medieval Society: Studies in Honor of Richard W. Kaeuper, ed. C. Nakashian and D. Franke (Leiden, 2017), pp. 36–61. Huntingdon, pp. 464–65; Warenne Chronicle, pp. 76–7; Orderic, 6:236–37. Gesta Henrici, 1:61; Craig Nakashian, “All My Sons are Bastards: Geoffrey Plantagenet’s Military Service to Henry II,” in Ecclesia et Violentia: Violence Against the Church and Violence within the Church in the Middle Ages, ed. R. Kotecki, J. Maciejewski and J. S. Ott (Newcastle-upon-Tyne, 2014), pp. 122–40; and idem., Warrior Churchmen of Medieval England, 1000–1250. Theory and Reality (Woodbridge, 2016), pp. 215–22. It is interesting to note that by the 1140s Lincoln cathedral chapter possessed a copy of Vegetius’ De re militari (Huntingdon, p. xxxii). Gesta Henrici, 2:6. See Matthew J. Strickland, “William Longespée, Third Earl of Salisbury (b. in or before 1167, d. 1226),” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Thus, for example, Richard “de Warenne” may have held a naval command in 1217, and Wendover believed that it was he who beheaded Eustace the Monk at the sea battle off Sandwich (Matthew Paris, Chronica majora, 3:27); Oliver defended Wolvesey castle against the French in 1216, and in 1217, with Willikin of the Weald, attacked Louis’ siege lines at Dover (Histoire des ducs, pp. 173, 189); Geoffrey, who held the honor of Perche, led an expedition to Poitou in 1205 (Rotuli litterarum clausarum in Turri Londoniensi asservati, ed. T. D. Hardy [London, 1833–1844], 1:3, 27, 28, 41, 59; Rotuli litterarum paten-

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Spiritual authority might be invoked to bolster suspected loyalties. Thus, for example, Anselm’s biographer Eadmer noted that when in 1101 Henry I was encamped to meet the invasion of his brother Robert, the king brought those magnates whom he secretly feared would desert him to speak with the archbishop, so that “they should have some fear put into them of what would happen if they in any way failed in the fidelity which they owed the king.”51 In addition, Anselm publicly addressed the magnates and the whole army and “impressed upon them how accursed in the sight of God and of every good man would be any of them who should in any respect betray the fidelity which they owed their prince.” Eadmer equally believed that Robert Curthose had desisted from his invasion through fear of excommunication by Anselm.52 Similarly, in 1216, on learning of the imminent landfall of Louis’ invasion fleet, the papal legate Guala, who was with John in Kent, had immediately renewed his excommunication of Louis, and subsequently of all his supporters, but he too quickly withdrew from the coast fearing capture by the French.53 Perhaps the most striking instance of the recourse to spiritual measures to counter fears of disloyalty prior to battle took place at Northallerton in 1138, and in the absence of the king. When in 1138, David king of Scots invaded northern England, a series of Angevin risings in the south-west prevented King Stephen from joining the Anglo-Norman forces that gathered to confront the Scots.54 David’s ostensible support for his niece the Empress, and the fact that some English lords such as Eustace fitzJohn had joined his ranks, made this a situation of civil war as well as of Anglo-Scottish hostility.55 Accordingly, as the chronicler Richard of Hexham noted of the Anglo-Norman army, “much irresolution was caused by distrust of each other, arising from suspicions of treachery, by the absence of a chief and leader of the war…and by their dread

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tium in Turri Londiniensis asservati, vol. 1, ed. T. D. Hardy [London, 1835], p. 117); and see also Chris Given-Wilson and Alice Curteis, The Royal Bastards of Medieval England (London, 1984), pp. 127–30. Eadmer, Historia novorum in Anglia, ed. M. Rule (London, 1884), pp. 126–28; Eadmer’s History of Recent Events in England, tr. G. Bosanquet (London, 1964), pp. 132–34. Ibid. Eadmer believed that without Anselm’s intervention, Henry would have lost his throne, but the archbishop’s role in stiffening the resolve of Henry’s supporters and army is not mentioned by other chroniclers. Annales de Dunstaplia, p. 46; and for Guala’s role and Louis’ reaction to the excommunication, Nicholas Vincent, The Letters and Charters of Cardinal Guala Bicchieri, Papal Legate in England, 1216–1218, Canterbury and York Society, vol. 83 (Woodbridge, 1996), pp. xxxix-xlii. Crouch, The Reign of King Stephen, pp. 81–82. Richard of Hexham, De Gestis regis Stephani et de bello standardii, in Chronicles of the Reigns of Stephen, Henry II and Richard I, ed. R. Howlett, 4 vols. (London, 1884–1889), 3:158; Aelred of Rievaulx, Relatio de standardo, in ibid., 3:191; and for Eustace fitzJohn, whose garrison at Malton castle sallied out to ravage the locality while the battle of the Standard was taking place, see Paul Dalton, “Eustace FitzJohn and the Politics of AngloNorman England,” Speculum 71 (1996), 358–83.



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of encountering so great a host with so inadequate a force.”56 Yet by preaching a holy war against the Scots, Archbishop Thurstan of York created a common cause against an enemy denounced as barbarous and sacrilegious, while unity was further strengthened by collective rituals of fasting, confession and prayer.57 Their spiritually meritorious cause was given tangible expression by the Standard, a ship’s mast raised on a wagon (perhaps drawing its inspiration from the carrochio of the northern Italian cities), from which were flown the banners of St Peter of York, St Wilfrid of Ripon and St John of Beverley, as well as the royal standard which Stephen had sent to the army, while at its summit was a pyx containing the consecrated host.58 Such distinctive measures can be seen as much as a means of giving a unifying focus to the politically conflicted AngloNorman nobles as of boosting the army’s morale against the foreign invader. Nor should we forget tactical dispositions. A distinctive a feature of battles in the Anglo-Norman period before 1154 was the frequent deployment of dismounted knights.59 Not only did their formations prove highly effective at breaking an attacker’s charge, but as contemporary writers noted, the act of dismounting itself had an important psychological dimension: With their horses moved to the rear, knights fought more resolutely, for there was little chance of flight when encumbered with heavy armor.60 In the circumstances of civil war where loyalties might be in doubt, dismounting to fight on foot was an even greater symbolic statement of intent, and the reason that the leaders themselves often chose to dismount and fight among their divisions on foot, as did Henry I and Robert Curthose at Tinchebray, the royalist nobles and King David at the Standard, and King Stephen and Rannulf, earl of Chester, at Lincoln.61 It was, 56

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Richard of Hexham, p. 160. Richard’s successor as prior of Hexham, John, whose chronicle was compiled between 1162 and 1170, believed that the king of Scots, “was sure that he would have as allies in his pre-arranged betrayal very many of the nobles in the English army, for they too, conspiring with secret plans, had incited him to the conflict.” John of Hexham, Chronicle, in Symeonis monachi opera omnia, ed. T. Arnold, 2 vols. (London, 1882–1885), 2:290–91. Richard of Hexham, pp. 160–61; Aelred, Relatio, pp. 181–82, 187–89; and see the valuable discussion in David S. Bachrach, Religion and the Conduct of War, c. 300–1215 (Woodbridge, 2003), pp. 153–61. Richard of Hexham, pp. 160–61, 163; Aelred, Relatio, pp. 181–82, 191–92; Huntingdon, pp. 712–13. For a detailed analysis of the Standard and its religious banners, see Richard Sharpe, “Banners of the Northern Saints,” in Saints of North-East England, 600–1500, ed. A. Coombe, A. Mouron and C. Whitehead (Turnhout, 2017), pp. 245–304, at 259–72. I am grateful to Richard Sharpe for kindly sending me a copy of this important paper. Jim Bradbury, “Battles in England and Normandy, 1066–1154,” Anglo-Norman Studies 6 (1983), 1–12, and reprinted in Anglo-Norman Warfare, ed. M. Strickland (Woodbridge, 1992), pp. 182–193. Ibid., p. 193; Huntingdon, pp. 454–55; Orderic, 6:348–51; Aelred, Relatio, p. 189. Orderic, 6:88–89, 524–3; Huntingdon, pp. 454–55, 732–33; the letter of the priest of Fécamp, printed in “The Battle of Tinchebrai: A Correction,” English Historical Review 25 (1910), 295–6, at p. 296, with corrections in David, Robert Curthose, p. 247; Richard of Hexham, p. 163.

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however, a high risk strategy: at the Standard in 1138, King David only avoided capture when his men forced him to remount his charger and withdraw, while at Lincoln in 1141 King Stephen was surrounded and captured.62 The Disinherited As at Tinchebray and Lincoln, strategic and political imperatives could outweigh a reluctance to give battle or pressure to reach a negotiated settlement. Yet it remained no light matter to attack an anointed king: irrespective of their political allegiance, the chroniclers reflect a deep unease at the direct assault upon King Stephen and his capture. Great resolve might be needed to do so, and it is thus significant that at the battles of Tinchebray, Brémule and Lincoln, a key role was played in the attacking armies by “the disinherited,” those who, having already suffered forfeiture of their lands at the hands of the king, had little to lose and all to gain. Before the battle of Lincoln, Henry of Huntingdon has Robert of Gloucester give a pre-battle oration in which he notes that King Stephen has “plundered those who are in rightful possession” and distributed “lands to those who have no legal right”: “So, with assistance of God, the just Judge, who will provide the punishment, he must be attacked first by those who have been wretchedly disinherited.”63 Orderic similarly believed that Gloucester “commanded the men of the Bessin and other disinherited men (exheredati) to strike the first blow in the battle to recover the inheritances they claimed.”64 At Lincoln, these “disinherited” were thus in the vanguard of the Angevin army, and contemporaries remarked on the violence of their initial assault against King Stephen’s formations.65 So too at Tinchebray, it was William, count of Mortain, who had been deprived of all his lands in England by Henry I in 1104 and whose castle of Tinchebray was now under siege by the king, who led the ducal vanguard in a fierce attack against Henry’s army.66 Such men proved particularly aggressive opponents: at Brémule in 1119, the Norman rebel William 62 63

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Aelred, Relatio, p. 197; Richard of Hexham, p. 163; Gesta Stephani, pp. 112–13; Huntingdon, pp. 738–39; Malmesbury, Historia novella, pp. 86–7; Orderic, 6:544–45. Huntingdon, pp. 726–29; Malmesbury, Historia novella, pp. 82–85, also noted that the majority of Gloucester’s forces at Lincoln were “disinherited men (exheredatorum numerus) inflamed to war by grief at what they had lost.” Orderic, 6:542–43, and n. 3, where Chibnall suggests that these “disinherited” included Baldwin de Redvers and perhaps those Angevin supporters from the Bessin recently defeated in Normandy by Stephen’s men (cf. Orderic, 6:514–15). Huntingdon, pp. 736–37; Malmesbury, Historia novella, pp. 84–5; Gesta Stephani, pp. 112–13; Orderic, 6:542–3. Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, s.a. 1104 (The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, A Collaborative Edition, 7, MS. E, ed. S. Irvine (Cambridge, 2004), p. 113; Huntingdon, pp. 452–55; Orderic, 6:84–5, 88–9; Matthew Bennett, “Les aspects militaires de la bataille de Tinchebray (1106),” in Tinchebray 1106–2006, pp. 71–78, who plausibly suggests this was a fierce cavalry charge. William had inherited great cross-Channel estates from his father Robert, William the Conqueror’s half-brother, but was disseised by King Henry for his support of his kinsman Robert of Bellême and of Robert Curthose in Normandy.



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Crispin succeeded in cutting his way through to Henry I and struck a blow on his helmet.67 Such a direct attempt to kill the king, however, was exceptional, and it is notable that despite the opportunity, neither King Stephen at Lincoln in 1141 nor Robert of Gloucester, defeated later that year at Stockbridge, were harmed in combat or maltreated during capture. Moreover, in most of the major engagements fought in the context of civil war during this period, there was a greater emphasis on the capturing rather than the killing of noble opponents, and casualties were usually limited.68 Such conduct stands in stark contrast to the Wars of the Roses from 1455 to 1485, marked by the widespread slaying of nobles in battle or their execution on capture, reflecting a cycle of revenge killings among the political elite, and by long and bloody pursuits of the defeated following a rout, as occurred notoriously at Towton in 1461.69 The Impact of Defeat Battle was regarded as a form of judicial ordeal, in which God bestowed victory on the party whose cause was most just.70 Even in the absence of the ruler, victory could be a powerful reassertion of right. The Cistercian abbot Ailred of Rievaulx gives Walter Espec, one of the leading English commanders at the Standard, a pre-battle oration in which he reminds the English army of the importance of victory to King Stephen’s legitimacy in a time of civil war: Think of your absent king, how great will be your glory when you report the triumph of a king without the king’s presence. Yours will be the court, yours the kingdom; everything will be done through your counsel, you through whom today a kingdom is sought for the king, peace for the kingdom, and glory for the peace. The king will say that he has been crowned again today by your hands.71

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Orderic, 6:238–39; Huntingdon, pp. 464–65; Warenne Chronicle, pp. 78–9. At Tinchebray, Henry I’s losses were said to have been slight, and while Robert’s infantry suffered heavier losses, the great majority of his forces were captured. Orderic, 6:90–91; Eadmer, History of Recent Events, p. 197. At Bourgthéroulde, 1124, most of the rebel lords were captured and there were no fatalities, while at Brémule in 1119 and at Lincoln in 1217, where rebel lords fought alongside French allies against the royal forces, casualties were notably few. Orderic, 6:240–41, 350–51; Matthew Paris, Chronica majora, 3:21–23. The first battle of Lincoln in 1141, followed by a brutal sack of the city, may have involved higher casualties in its initial stages, but many of those nobles and knights who fought on foot in the king’s division and who could not flee were taken prisoner. Orderic, 6:542–43; Gesta Stephani, pp. 12–13; Huntingdon, pp. 736–39). For Towton, see Blood Red Roses: The Archaeology of a Mass Grave from the Battle of Towton, ed. V. Fiorato, A. Boylston and C. Knüssel (Oxford, 2000); and on killing in the rout, Anthony Boardman, The Medieval Soldier in the Wars of the Roses (Stroud, 1998), pp. 176–80. Georges Duby, Le dimanche de Bouvines. 27 Juillet 1214 (Paris, 1973), pp. 190–201. Aelred, Relatio de Standardo, 3:188; Aelred of Rievaulx, The Historical Works, ed. and trans. J. P. Freeland and M. Dutton (Kalamazoo, 2005), p. 256.

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Such belief made it highly problematic for a ruler whose legitimacy was being challenged to refuse an engagement if proffered. Henry I had repeatedly shunned a pitched battle with Louis VI and William Clito, despite increasingly provocative raids deep into Normandy, until it had become clear that were he not to give battle to his rival at Brémule in 1119 his legitimacy as Normandy’s ruler would be fatally undermined.72 Though at Lincoln in 1141 Stephen had been caught by surprise by a larger Angevin army, he “refused to sully his fame (gloriam suam) by the disgrace of flight,” rejecting advice to withdraw, and instead, as Orderic noted, “fought stalwartly on foot for his life and the preservation of his kingdom.”73 Yet in the context of civil war, defeat greatly magnified the humiliation and loss of authority suffered by any ruler worsted in the field. William the Conqueror suffered a serious blow to his prestige when he was wounded, unhorsed and his forces routed by his rebellious son Robert Curthose at the siege of Gerberoi in 1079.74 In 1102, it was Robert’s turn to be routed in battle at Exmes by the powerful Norman noble Robert of Bellême, who thereafter “held the duke in contempt and attempted to bring the whole of Normandy under his sway.” 75 Though Orderic was a hostile witness, Robert’s defeat can only have further undermined his fading authority in the duchy. Capture was still more catastrophic. Stephen’s capture at Lincoln saw many of his hitherto loyal supporters reluctantly turn to the Empress, despairing of his release.76 Irrespective of their political sympathies, chroniclers praised Stephen’s personal valor77 but regarded his fall as divine judgement, heralded by ominous omens.78 As William of Malmesbury has Stephen’s own brother, 72 73 74

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Strickland, “Henry I and the Battle of the Two Kings,” pp. 94–98. Gesta Stephani, pp. 112–13; Orderic, 6:542–43, who noted that the king “judged it dishonourable to put off battle for any reason.” Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, D, sub anno 1079; The Chronicle of John of Worcester, ed. and trans R. R. Darlington and P. McGurk, 3 vols. (Oxford, 1995–), 3:30–33; William M. Aird, Robert Curthose, Duke of Normandy (Woodbridge, 2008), pp. 86–9; David Bates, William the Conqueror (New Haven and London, 2016), pp. 400–402. Orderic, 6:34–5; and for the context, Aird, Robert Curthose, pp. 218–21. The humiliation was heightened by Bellême’s capture of the duke’s brother-in-law William of Conversano, and many of his supporters. Gesta Stephani, pp. 114–17; and for the impact of his capture, King, King Stephen, pp. 154–67. Robert of Torigny even composed a series of rhyming couplets lauding Stephen’s great valor: The Chronicle of Robert of Torigni, ed. R. Howlett, in Chronicles of the Reigns of Stephen, Henry II and Richard I, 4:140–41. Gesta Stephani, pp. 114–15, “Dei dispositione”; Huntingdon, pp. 738–39, “Dei igitur iudicio circa regem peracto”; John of Worcester, 3:292–3, “iusto Dei judicio circumventus et captus.” Huntingdon, pp. 732–33, recounts how, as King Stephen was hearing mass before the battle, the chain holding the pyx above the altar snapped, and the fall of the consecrated host “was a sign of the king’s downfall,” Likewise the candle he offered to Bishop Alexander of Lincoln broke in pieces, “a warning to the king that he would be crushed” (ibid.). Orderic, 6:544–45, has a similar story, while Gesta Stephani, pp. 110–13,



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the mercurial Henry of Blois, bishop of Winchester, tell a great ecclesiastical council gathered in April 1141: “God has executed judgment on my brother in allowing him to fall into the power of the strong.”79 This, he explained, was because of Stephen’s failure to preserve justice and peace, and his abuse of churches and churchmen, not least the king’s notorious arrest of the bishops of Salisbury, Lincoln and Ely in 1139.80 Even the staunchly royalist Gesta Stephani agreed that Stephen’s capture at Lincoln was God’s punishment for this sacrilegious act.81 Yet the Gesta rejected any notion that the defeat impugned his legitimacy: Stephen was humbled, yet penitent, and the capture of Robert of Gloucester and the king’s subsequent liberation only served to proclaim divine confirmation of the chastened king’s right to rule.82 Nevertheless, the aura and sacrality of Stephen’s kingship had been damaged by his defeat and imprisonment. Though he refused to be re-consecrated (for he was insistent he had not been deposed), he held a great crown-wearing ceremony at Canterbury at Christmas 1142, where both he and his queen Matilda were crowned by Archbishop Theobald of Canterbury, and he did so once again at Lincoln itself in 1146.83 Such was the powerful symbolism of Lincoln as the site of the king’s defeat and capture, however, that Stephen’s rival and eventual successor, Henry II, in turn chose to hold a great crown-wearing at Lincoln in 1157, but with the opposite intent, to recall a great Angevin triumph.84 A comparative analysis of battle in the context of medieval civil wars across different periods and polities would doubtless further reveal the complex – and varying – range of factors that might shape the place of major engagements in warfare and contemporary perceptions of such conflicts. This case study from the Anglo-Norman and Angevin realms has, however, suggested how civil war could serve to accentuate still more the challenges faced by leaders in making the critical and often fateful decision as to whether to avoid or to commit to battle. Whereas a commander facing an external opponent might withdraw or refusal battle until a more advantageous moment presented itself, a ruler whose

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told how the candle broke, but then mended and relit, signifying that the king would be restored after his defeat. Malmesbury, Historia novella, pp. 92–3. Kenji Yoshitake, “The Arrest of the Bishops in 1139 and its Consequences,” Journal of Medieval History 14 (1988), pp. 97–114; Thomas Callahan, “The Arrest of the Bishops at Stephen’s Court: A Reassessment,” The Haskins Society Journal 4 (1992), 97–108; King, King Stephen, pp. 105–14. Gesta Stephani, pp. 112–13. Ibid., pp. 110–113, 114–15. Huntingdon, pp. 740–41, believed that “the king, taken captive in misery by God’s justice, was miraculously freed by God’s mercy, and was received by the English nobility with great rejoicing.” King, King Stephen, pp. 175–78, 228. In 1266, Henry III, who had been defeated and captured by Simon de Montfort at the Battle of Lewes in 1264, similarly wore his crown in majesty at Westminster abbey in 1266. Björn Weiler, “Symbolism and Politics in the Reign of Henry III,” Thirteenth Century England IX: Proceedings of the Durham Conference, 2001, ed. M. Prestwich, R. Britnell and R. Frame (Woodbridge, 2003), 15–41, at p. 23. Chronica magistri Rogeri de Hovedene, ed. W. Stubbs, 4 vols. (London, 1868–1871), 1:216.

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legitimacy was contested could ill-afford to harm his authority by being seen to refuse trial by battle. Yet if defeated, such authority could be gravely damaged. Conversely, victory would bolster prestige and legitimacy, as well as striking a potentially decisive blow to rival forces, but the leader’s own desire to give battle might be thwarted by the nobility’s deep-rooted reluctance to engage in a potentially self-destructive combat. Commanders’ worries over defection, desertion or disloyalty before battle, or still worse during it, were not confined to situations of civil war, but where a ruler faced a contender from within his own dynasty, with competing claims to legitimacy, fears of disloyalty and betrayal could be greatly intensified and might act as a powerful deterrent to giving battle. Let us conclude with a paradox: in the context of civil war, even victory might prove problematic. Henry I’s triumph at Tinchebray in 1106 made him “victorious and strong for the first time,” noted Henry of Huntingdon, so much so that the nobles of England and Normandy attended his Easter court of 1107 “with fear and trembling.”85 Yet the circumstances of the battle, fought in an aggressive war of invasion to usurp his brother’s duchy, and with its outcome in Robert’s capture and lasting imprisonment, remained a major political embarrassment for Henry.86 Curthose had not only been Henry’s elder brother, but also his “natural lord” to who whom he had earlier performed homage.87 There can be little doubt that for many Anglo-Norman contemporaries, the Bruderkrieg of 1105–1106 and the battle of Tinchebray was a deeply traumatic event. Even Orderic, whose writings display strong support for Henry I, recounted how immediately prior to the battle several churchmen had “tried to prevent this terrible disaster, horrified at the prospect of brother shedding the blood of brother.” He has the holy man Vitalis warn both Henry and Robert against committing “the crime of the sons of Oedipus, hateful to all ages,” alluding to the internecine battle between Eteocles and Polynices recounted in Statius’ Thebias, in which both perished.88 As in the stand-off at Alton in 1101, Orderic depicts as a peacemaker, offering Robert generous terms, which are only spurned by his wayward brother. Nevertheless, it speaks volumes that in regard to the invasion of Normandy, Orderic felt obliged to set out Henry’s ius ad bellum at length, depicting the king as only reluctantly taking control of the duchy by invitation of nobles and clergy to save the Church and people of Normandy from the violence and disorder caused by Robert’s weak rule. Henry had, he noted without conscious irony, “embarked on a worse than civil war–bellum plus quam civila–for the sake of peace.”89

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Huntingdon, pp. 454–55. Thus, for instance, his invasion of Normandy and imprisonment of his brother was publicly denounced by King Louis VI before Pope Calixtus II at the great ecclesiastical council of Rheims in 1119 (Orderic, 6:256–59). Orderic, 6:94–7, puts these charges in the mouth of Robert of Bellême, but Orderic’s subsequent endeavour to justify Henry in a response he gives to Count Helias of Maine indicated that such accusations were current at the time he was writing Book XIII, c. 1136. Orderic, 6:86–7; and ibid., 3:100 n.2. Orderic, 6:86–7.



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Yet the bitterness and anger still felt by some in Normandy as late as the 1170s was reflected in the harsh censure by the poet Wace of those who in the campaigns of 1105–6 had switched sides, won over by Henry’s money and promises, or still worse, had deserted Duke Robert in the battle itself: The duke was captured and the count [of Mortain] was captured…many men who held fiefs from them and who should have been with them, abandoned their lord at this time of need; as a result of their shameful actions, they received rewards from the king, for which they were severely reproached…. He acts very shamefully, no one could do worse, who betrays his liege lord.90

Wace all but ends his verse history of the Norman dukes with Tinchebray, and such sentiments may have been among the reasons that his erstwhile patron Henry II removed his commission and gave it instead to Benoît of SainteMaure. More dutifully and uncritically, Benoit omitted any such reproaches, focused his version of the battle on Henry I’s clever tactics, and stressed that the battle brought peace to the ravaged duchy.91 Even the memory and writing of battle in the context of civil might be contested.

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Wace, The Roman de Rou, tr. G. S. Burgess (St Helier, 2002), lines 11, 373–84. Three Anglo-Norman Kings. The Lives of William the Conqueror and Sons by Benoît de Sainte-Maure, tr. I. Short (Toronto, 2018), pp. 176–77; and see Peter Damian-Grint, “Robert Courteheuse et Henri Bauclerc: Frères ennemis dans les estoires de Wace et Benoît,” Tinchebray 1106–2006, pp. 79–82.

5 Edward I’s War on the Continent, 1297–1298: A New Appraisal David Pilling

This study of Edward I of England’s expedition to Flanders in 1297 seeks to re-evaluate the king’s aims and achievements. Previous accounts have been largely negative in their assessment of Edward’s performance, but this article argues that his sojourn in Flanders should not be regarded as a failure. The actions of Edward’s allies and the wider context of his strategic objectives, along with the difficulties and setbacks he encountered, are given particular consideration. Edward I’s Flanders campaign of 1297–1298 is regarded as one of his least successful ventures. His intention was to defeat the French under Philip IV and recover his confiscated duchy of Gascony. The English king, it has been said, arrived too late to help his Flemish allies, already on the brink of defeat, and with a totally inadequate army. No engagements were fought, except a number of brawls between English sailors and allied infantry. On top of this lack of military success, the king was severely embarrassed financially, and in the end fortunate to extricate himself from a difficult situation. Such is the general view from the perspective of English historians.1 This article will seek to re-evaluate Edward’s war aims, as well as demonstrate that the English king made vital gains in Flanders, even if victory eluded him. While the main focus of the article is on Edward and his perspective, it will also consider those of his enemy, Philip, and his ally, Count Guy of Flanders. Gascony was one of just two continental possessions left to Edward’s dynasty, held after the Treaty of Paris in 1259 as a fiefdom of the French crown. In the treaty Henry III formally renounced his family claims to the former Angevin territories of Normandy, Anjou, Maine, Touraine and Poitou. Edward first received Gascony as part of a substantial endowment granted to him by his

1

Negative assessments of the campaign can be found in Michael Prestwich, Edward I (New Haven and London, 1997), pp. 392–94; Michael Prestwich, War, Politics and Finance under Edward I (Ottawa, New Jersey, 1972), pp. 31–32; Marc Morris, A Great and Terrible King (London, 2009), p. 307; Jonathan Sumption, The Hundred Years War, vol. 1, Trial by Battle (London, 1999), pp. 81–82; Maurice Powicke, The Thirteenth Century 1216–1307, 2nd ed. (Oxford, 1963), pp. 668–69.

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father in 1254, part of the settlement for his wedding to Eleanor, daughter of the king of Castile.2 Edward governed the duchy in peace for the next forty years, bar a brief campaign in 1273 against a rebellious vassal, Gaston de Béarn. His personal rule oversaw the foundation of over fifty new bastide towns and efficient reorganization of government.3 The other territory was the comté of Ponthieu on the northern borders of France, acquired by Edward by right of his wife Eleanor of Castile in 1279.4 Despite its small size, Ponthieu was a useful consideration for the English crown. It gave Edward a territorial foothold in northern France, along with other benefits. The comté was situated along the estuary of the Somme, and home to wealthy centers of cloth production and thriving agriculture. Men from Ponthieu were prominent among Edward’s diplomats. The English king’s status as count allowed him to maintain a permanent staff of lawyers at Paris, who dealt with appeals from Ponthieu to the French parlement. Thus, Edward could exercise some influence over the affairs of France.5 Gascony and Ponthieu also provided Edward with valuable military resources. For example, during the Welsh war of 1282–1283, an army of the king’s vassals in Gascony was raised and transported over to Wales to spearhead the final conquest of Gwynedd. In all, forty Gascon knights, 119 mounted crossbowmen and 1,273 foot crossbowmen served in this campaign.6 Ponthieu, meanwhile, contributed 2,000 quarters of wheat, 2,000 quarters of oats, 300 quarters of peas and beans, as well as salted meats and cheese to the king’s armies.7 Two knights of Ponthieu, Hugh of Famechon and John de Nesle, also served on this Welsh campaign and received pay as bannerets.8 In 1294, Philip IV of France used a sea battle between English and Norman sailors in the Channel as a pretext to summon Edward I to explain himself at the French parlement in Paris. Edward was unable to attend, so diplomats were sent instead. They were led by Edward’s brother, Edmund of Lancaster. With the approval of the king, Edmund offered the following terms. Edward would marry Philip’s sister, Margaret, and Gascony would be held by the eldest son of this union and his heirs. Thus, the English king would take Gascony out of the direct line of succession and grant it to a younger half-brother of his heir, the future Edward II. This would remove the necessity of future kings of England performing the ritual act of homage and fealty in Paris. It would also bind his dynasty even closer to the Capets. In addition, Edward’s Gascon subjects would no longer be able to reject ducal justice and appeal to his overlord in Paris. 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Prestwich, Edward I, p. 11. Prestwich, Edward I, pp. 298–311. Hilda Johnstone, “The County of Ponthieu 1279–1307,” The English Historical Review 29 (1914), p. 439. Malcolm Vale, The Origins of the Hundred Years War (Oxford, 1990), p. 72. John E. Morris, The Welsh Wars of Edward I: A Contribution to Medieval Military History Based on Original Documents (Oxford, 1901), p. 188. Calendar of Various Chancery Rolls, p. 214. Johnstone, “The County of Ponthieu 1279–1307,” p. 445.



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This would loosen the ties of the Treaty of Paris and make Gascony a quasi-independent territory, held by the heirs of Edward of England and Margaret of France.9 The subsequent negotiations resulted in what has been termed “among the most dismal episodes of English foreign policy.”10 Edmund was tricked as part of a secret agreement, whereby key towns and castles in Gascony were temporarily handed over to the French for a period of forty days. In return Philip would revoke the summons to Edward to appear in Paris. Philip then broke his word and announced that Gascony would not be restored to the English. Instead, the duchy was confiscated.11 Edmund later explained that Edward “for the peace of Christendom, and the furtherance of the Crusade, granted all these things, in order to save the French king’s honour, to satisfy those of his council and, to keep the private agreements more secret…wished that a letter patent be issued [stating that] all the land of Gascony should be surrendered to the king of France.”12 King Edward wished to preserve peace in Europe and further the crusade, a policy in line with his diplomacy on the continent in the previous decade.13 Whether his attempted settlement was “dismal” or not is debatable. The king went to great lengths to have peace with France, and there is an argument that nothing the English did could have averted the conflict.14 According to Pope Boniface VIII, when he suggested to French envoys that it seemed they intended to drive the English from their last holdings on the continent, the reply was simply “Certainly, sir, what you say is true.”15 Philip also took the opportunity to take control of Ponthieu. He did this by another piece of neat legal footwork. As stated above, Edward had acquired the county in right of his wife, Queen Eleanor. There was a rival claimant: Jean I, Comte d’Aumale. When Gascony was confiscated Jean submitted his claim to the Court of Appeals in Paris, and Ponthieu was taken out of Edward’s hands while the issue was decided by lawyers. In the meantime, Philip’s administrators moved in and collected the revenues.16 The timing is distinctly suspicious, and the likelihood is that Jean submitted his claim at Philip’s behest. Edward was thus effectively deprived of his overseas possessions. 9 10 11 12 13 14

15 16

Vale, Origins, pp. 188–89. Prestwich, Edward I, p. 380. Prestwich, Edward I, p. 379. Vale, Origins, p. 192. See Prestwich, Edward I, pp. 312–35 for a full discussion of Edward’s diplomacy in Europe in this period. See Elizabeth A. R. Brown, “Philip the Fair: Nemesis of Edward I of England,” in Craig M. Nakashian and Daniel P. Franke, eds., Prowess, Piety, and Public Order in Medieval Society. Studies in Honor of Richard W. Kaeuper (Leiden, 2017), p. 244. Harry Rothwell, English Historical Documents, vol 3: 1189–1327 (London, 1975; repr. 1996), 508. François César Louandre, Histoire d’Abbeville et du comté de Ponthieu jusqu’en 1789, vol. 1 (Paris 1923), p. 211.

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When the loss of Gascony was announced in the English parliament in May 1294, there were angry scenes. Edward was forced to apologize and asked for counsel over what should be done. Antony Bek, the belligerent bishop of Durham, advised war: No one ought to fail thee in thy need. If thou wilt recover thy land of Gascony, ‎And take good care that Philip dissimulate with thee no longer, Arise and bestir thyself, sleep not like a monk; ‎Put on the hauberks, trample down the carrion, ‎Mount the steeds, and take spear in thy fist.17

Perhaps encouraged by Bek, Edward declared that “had he no other following than one boy and a horse he would pursue his right to the death.” His barons in turn professed themselves “ready to follow him in life and death against Philip for the recovery of Gascony.”18 The king then renounced his homage and declared war against Philip, one crowned head against another. The Grand Alliance The king’s strategy was to construct an elaborate system of alliances in the Low Countries, Germany and Franche-Comté in eastern Burgundy, meant to encircle the French and stretch their forces to breaking point. His grandfather, King John, had adopted a very similar strategy against Philip Augustus in 1214, which may have provided the template for Edward’s plan in 1297.19 Edward’s allies included Adolf of Nassau, king of Germany, and a coalition of French barons in Franche-Comté. The cost of acquiring allies was immense. Adolf was promised that he would receive £40,000 by Christmas 1294, and a further £20,000 when Edward arrived in Flanders. The duke of Brabant was offered 200,000 livres tournois (£50,000) and another £4,000 out of customs duty. Edward’s allies in Franche-Comté were owed 60,000 livres tournois for the first year of the alliance, with 30,000 for each subsequent year. Count Floris V of Holland was owed 80,000 livres tournois. The Count of Bar, Edward’s son-in-law, was owed 30,000 marks in return for service with 1,000 cavalry. Yet another subsidy of 10,000 marks was paid out to the archbishop of Cologne, with an extra £2,000 as a gift, while smaller sums were paid out to lesser German

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Pierre de Langtoft, The Chronicle of Pierre de Langtoft in French Verse, From the Earliest Period to the Death of Edward I, ed. Thomas Wright, vol. 2 (London, 1868, repr. 1886), p. 203. J. G. Black, “Edward I and Gascony in 1300,” The English Historical Review, 17 no. 67 (July 1902), p. 519. Michael Prestwich, “Edward I and Adolf of Nassau,” in Thirteenth Century England III: Proceedings of the Newcastle-Upon-Tyne Conference, ed. P. R. Coss and S. D. Lloyd (Woodbridge, 1991), p. 127.



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allies.20 The enthusiasm of some of these expensively acquired allies may be doubted. Shortly before his death in April 1294, the duke of Brabant disclosed to a friend that he meant to remain neutral in the coming war, while selling his services to the highest of the two bidders.21 Edward’s most important ally was Guy of Dampierre, Count of Flanders. For several years Guy had been engaged in a struggle to preserve the independence of Flanders against French expansionism. His conflict with Philip IV had its roots in a long-running dispute between Guy and the aldermen of Ghent. In a bid to extend French royal influence, Philip took the side of the aldermen and installed his officials in Ghent, to act as a barrier between them and Guy. The French king also prohibited trade between Flanders and England, with an inevitably disastrous effect on the Flemish economy, and constantly outmaneuvered Guy in various financial and territorial disputes.22 In 1293 the exasperated count looked to support from England and started negotiations for the marriage of his daughter, Philippa, to Edward I’s heir. The engagement was confirmed on 31 August 1294, along with a promised subsidy of 200,000 livres tournois from Edward to Guy.23 England had been at war with France since May, which meant Guy had concluded a marriage alliance with the enemy of his lord, Philip. The French king summoned Guy to Paris, where he and Philippa were held captive for a time. Guy was eventually released on condition he abandon the English alliance, but his daughter spent the rest of her days in custody at the Louvre.24 While his allies attacked the French, Edward planned to embark on a tripartite expedition to reconquer Gascony. The details are contained in a letter dated 1 July 1294 addressed to his Gascon subjects. The first expeditionary force, under John de St. John and John of Brittany, would sail from Portsmouth on 17 August. The second, under Edmund, Earl of Lancaster and Henry de Lacy, Earl of Lincoln, would sail on 8 September. The third and largest, led by the king in person, would set off on 30 September.25 If all had gone ahead as planned, the English would have hit the French in Gascony with three successive waves of attack in the space of a mere nine weeks. The cumulative weight of this

20 21 22

23 24 25

Prestwich, War, Politics and Finance, pp. 172–73. Henri Pirenne, Histoire de Belgique, 7 vols. (Brussels, 1862–1935), 1:368. J. F. Verbruggen, The Battle of the Golden Spurs (Courtrai, 11 July 1302), A Contribution to the History of Flanders’ War of Liberation, 1297–1305, ed. and trans. Kelly DeVries and David Richard Ferguson (Woodbridge, 2002) pp. 13–14; Pirenne, Histoire de Belgique, p. 363. Prestwich, Edward I, p. 388. Pirenne, Histoire de Belgique, 1:369. Charles Bémont, Rôles gascons, 1242–1307, vol. 3: 1290–1307 (Paris, 1896); Thomas Rymer and R. Sanderson, Foedera, conventiones, litterae, et cujuscunque generis acta publica, inter reges Angliae et alios quosvis impeatores, reges, pontifices, principes, vel communitates: ab ingressu Gulielmi I. in Angliam, A.D. 1066, ad nostra usque tempora habita aut tractata (London, 1816), p. 805.

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assault combined with the efforts of his allies to the north (though without Guy, detained at the Louvre) might well have proved decisive. Unfortunately for Edward, he was obliged to divert most of his army to crush the revolt of Madog ap Llywelyn in Wales. Yet the first expedition under St. John and Brittany had already sailed and could not be recalled. The success of this force in Gascony, given they were only supposed to be the vanguard, hints at what might have been achieved. In October–November 1294, the English and their Gascon allies recovered the port of Bayonne and the towns along the Pyrenean frontier in the south, as well as Bourg and Blaye in the north and most of the towns along the upper Gironde.26 Due to his commitments in Wales, Edward was unable to supply reinforcements until July 1295, and the French counter-attack in Easter of that year recovered the towns on the Gironde. However, Bourg, Blaye and Bayonne remained ducal strongpoints for the remainder of the war. Thanks to the efforts of Brittany and St. John, Edward retained a vital toehold in his former duchy.27 Meanwhile Count Guy was under attack by the Count of Hainault and Edward’s ally, Count Floris V of Holland. In early 1295 Floris invaded the Flemish territory of Zeeland. Edward persuaded the rivals to make peace, and further sweetened Guy with a repayment of money owed by the Count of Guelders. The English king used harsher methods to win the support of the Flemish towns. He prohibited the sale of English wool to the bourgeois, crippling their industry and forcing them to take his part. This was a repeat of the successful strategy he had used against the countess of Flanders over twenty years previously.28 Philip continued to undermine Guy’s authority in Flanders, repeatedly summoning him to answer charges at the parlement in Paris. He also made efforts to lure Floris away from the English alliance. In 1295 the pro-French Count of Hainault negotiated with Floris on Philip’s behalf, and convinced him to defect. Floris was bribed with a French promise of 4,000 livres annually for life and a lump sum of 25,000 livres.29 He left the English camp on 9 January 1296, just three days after Philip concluded an agreement with Guy whereby the count was permitted to receive a fiftieth of all his subjects’ possessions in tax.30 Guy was persuaded to use heavy-handed methods to levy the tax on Flemish towns, which resulted in the citizens of Bruges, Lille, Douai and Ypres offering the money to Philip instead. Naturally, he was only too happy to take it.31 The defection of Floris angered both King Edward and Floris’ old enemy, Guy. Floris was unpopular with many of his own nobles, and in the spring of 1296 a conspiracy was laid against him. Edward’s first reaction was to impose 26 27 28 29 30 31

Prestwich, Edward I, p. 382; Vale, Origins, p. 204. Vale, Origins, pp. 204, 209. Pirenne, Histoire de Belgique, 1:371. Prestwich, Edward I, p. 388. Verbruggen, The Battle of the Golden Spurs, p. 14. Verbruggen, The Battle of the Golden Spurs, p. 14.



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a trade embargo on Holland. A plot was then hatched to have Floris kidnapped and taken to England, where he would be given a choice: break the alliance with Philip or resign his title to his anglophile son, John. The abduction went awry and Floris was murdered by his kidnappers. On 8 January 1297, John’s marriage to Elizabeth of Rhuddlan, Edward’s daughter, went ahead at Ipswich. This cemented a new Anglo-Dutch alliance.32 On the previous day Guy had agreed to an alliance with Edward against the French, and on the ninth he formally broke with Philip.33 Thus, Philip’s efforts to unpick Edward’s coalition had only resulted in strengthening it. Widening the Conflict King Edward’s plans to go overseas were further delayed thanks to distractions in Wales and Scotland and opposition in England to his grinding war taxes.34 He did send all the help he could to Gascony. In summer 1295 some reinforcements were sent under John de Botetourt, and the second expeditionary force under Edmund of Lancaster and Henry de Lacy, Earl of Lincoln, was finally dispatched, seventeen months behind schedule, in January 1296.35 By now the French had time to prepare, and after some initial success the expedition ended in failure and the death of Lancaster at Bayonne. Command of ducal forces passed to Lincoln.36 It seemed Edward could not hope to drive the French from Gascony unless he widened the conflict. This was the idea behind his original strategy in 1294, and in 1297 he sought to revive it. There was certainly a dire need to relieve his garrisons in the duchy. After three years of warfare, much of Gascony remained in French hands. Blaye and Bourg formed the two main ducal enclaves in the north, and Bayonne and Saint-Sever in the south. There were also a few lesser strongholds such as Sault, Bellegarde and Saint-Quitterie. The year 1297 had gotten off to a dismal start for the Anglo-Gascons. On 30 January the ducal field army and supply train, under the command of Lincoln, was ambushed and badly mauled at Bellegarde by a French army led by Robert d’Artois. Lincoln and some of his men managed to escape, but it was a major reverse.37 A large number of English and Gascon knights were captured, the most serious loss to Edward’s cause being John de St. John, a household knight and able captain.38 As a consequence of the defeat, Lincoln abandoned any hope 32 33 34 35 36 37

38

Prestwich, Edward I, pp. 388–89. Verbruggen, The Battle of the Golden Spurs, p. 15. A full account of the domestic crisis in 1297 can be found in Michael Prestwich, Documents Illustrating the Crisis of 1297–8 (London, 1980), pp. 3–37. Bémont, Rôles Gascons, pp. iii and clii; Prestwich, War, Politics and Finance, p. 76. Prestwich, Edward I, pp. 384–85. Reginald Philip Lawton, “Henry de Lacy, Earl of Lincoln as Locum Tenens et Capitaneus in the Duchy of Aquitaine” (unpublished Ph.D. thesis, University of London, 1974), pp. 77–78. Ibid., pp. 89–90.

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of reconquering those parts of Gascony under French control and resorted to defending the towns and fortresses still in English hands.39 Charles sought to press his advantage. In the weeks after the battle, he cut off ducal supply lines in a bid to starve the remaining fortresses into surrender. At the start of the year several of these had appealed to Lincoln at Bayonne for help, if they were not to capitulate through starvation.40 Repeated references to the poverty of the beleaguered strongholds – “qe sount en mult povre estat” – are made in bonds given in money and supplies for their relief. The towns of Bellegarde, Saint-Sever and St. Quitterie are explicitly named as being at dire risk.41 The survival of the ducal enclaves in Gascony now depended on Edward. This time he planned a two-pronged attack on the French, whereby the earls of Norfolk and Hereford would take one army to Gascony while he took another to Flanders. The strategy foundered at the Salisbury parliament in February, where the earls flatly refused to serve overseas except under Edward’s personal command. His attempt to browbeat them into obedience failed, and Edward was forced to abandon his plan.42 All he could do was send a few criminals to reinforce Lincoln, though at the end of May he managed to dispatch forty ships loaded with money and supplies.43 It was in the context of the desperate situation in Gascony that Edward decided to go to Flanders, after three years of delay. He was warned by his baronage not to go. England was on the brink of civil war and there was unrest in Scotland and Wales.44 Edward would not be dissuaded, but had great difficulty raising an adequate force to take overseas. There was little enthusiasm for the campaign in England, and his efforts to raise money and supplies met with considerable opposition from the English clergy and laity. As a result of the crisis, Edward made no efforts to recruit infantry in England, though he did manage to raise up to 822 cavalry.45 In addition, a few Scottish knights captured at the battle of Dunbar the previous year agreed to serve in exchange for their freedom.46 Most of the infantry were raised in Wales, a risky decision given that much of the principality had been in revolt in 1294–1295. However, taking so many Welshmen out of Wales also reduced the potential threat from rebels left behind. Perhaps mindful of recent events, Edward couched his summons to the Welsh 39 40 41

42 43 44 45 46

Ibid., p. 98. Harry Rothwell, The Chronicle of Walter of Guisborough (London, 1957) p. 262. For instance, as seen in Kew, London, The National Archives, MSS E 101/155/5/13; E 101 153/15/11; E 101/152/9/39; Documents Relating to the Administration of Henry de Lacy, Earl of Lincoln, Lieutenant in Aquitaine. 24 to 26 Edw I. Prestwich, Edward I, pp. 415–16. Prestwich, The Crisis of 1297–1298, pp. 3–4. Walter of Guisborough, Chronicle, pp. 289–90. Morris, The Welsh Wars, pp. 277–78. Michael Prestwich, “Welsh Infantry in Flanders in 1297,” in Wales and the Welsh in the Middle Ages: Essays Presented to J. Beverley-Smith, ed. R. A. Griffiths and P. R. Schofield (Cardiff, 2011), pp. 6–8.



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in the form of a request. His officers in North Wales, Glamorgan, parts of South Wales, and Powys were instructed to assemble the most “powerful and fencible” Welshmen before them. These men were to be informed that the king had undertaken the war in Flanders for the “common profit and salvation” of the entire realm. The Welsh should be asked, in the most “loving and courteous manner,” to provide military service for the king overseas. If they were to grant this service, “in good manner and will,” they were to assemble at certain places prior to embarkation.47 With the exception of Powys, controlled by the loyal dynasty of de la Pole, most of these areas of Wales had been in revolt against Edward three years earlier. The exception in Gwynedd was the commote of Penllyn in Meirionnydd, which provided Edward with some infantry.48 In Glamorgan the Welsh claimed to be in revolt against their lord, Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloucester, rather than the king. A public reconciliation was staged in June 1295, when Edward met Morgan ap Maredudd, the leader of the Glamorgan rebels – in the teeth of angry protests from Clare – and pardoned him along with seven hundred of his followers.49 The king’s efforts at persuasion bore fruit. On 2 August 1297 John de Havering, the justice of North Wales, wrote to the king that the North Welsh were coming into the muster “of good will.”50 This positive response was repeated elsewhere. By the time of embarkation on 22 August, the numbers of Welsh foot consisted of the following: Glamorgan: 898 West Wales: 1,789 Barons’ lands: 640 North Wales: 1,963 Welsh March and England: 923 Total: 6,21351 The total number of infantry to serve in Flanders, including reinforcements shipped over in September and October, was 7,630. Of these, 2,278 came from England and the Marches, 151 from Ireland, and the rest were Welsh.52 Most of the Welsh infantry are described as archers, with the exception of the men of Snowdon and Caernarfon under Gruffudd ap Rhys, who are simply described 47 48 49 50 51 52

Calendar of the Close Rolls Preserved in the Public Record Office. Edward I, vol. 4: A.D. 1296–1302, ed. H. C. Maxwell Lyte (London, 1906), p. 79. Book of Prests of the King’s Wardrobe for 1294–1295, Presented to John Goronwy Edwards, ed. E. B. Fryde (Oxford 1962), p. 61 and p. 135. Fryde, Book of Prests, p. xliii; Henry Richards Luard, ed., Annales de Wigornia, in Annales monastici, vol. 4 (London, 1869), pp. 520–21. Calendar of Ancient Correspondence Concerning Wales, ed. J. G. Edwards (Cardiff, 1935), p. 80. Prestwich, Welsh Infantry in Flanders in 1297, p. 11. Ibid.

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as infantry. One small company of twenty-one crossbowmen was raised in West Wales.53 Edward went to great pains to ensure adequate supplies and equipment for his army in Flanders. His officials of the royal household were responsible for gathering provisions, as well as transportation to storehouses at Bruges and Ghent. The logistics were daunting, but Edward’s officers worked efficiently. Some food and wine was bought in Flanders and Brabant but the bulk came from England. The total cost for all provisions was £11,741, 17 shillings and 4.5 pence.54 The army was also equipped with a number of springalds and bolts for crossbows, indicating Edward was aware of the need for siege equipment.55 While Edward argued with his subjects, his allies made plans. On 8 February Adolf of Nassau met with a coalition of Burgundian nobles and the Count of Bar at Koblenz. The lords of Franche-Comté (the county of Burgundy), a region of Burgundy that was an outlier province of the Holy Roman Empire, had been at war against Philip for several years. The status of the county of Burgundy at this time was in flux. Philip and his supporters wished to extend control over the province, while the opposing faction claimed it as a fief of the Holy Roman Empire. Philip’s chief supporter was Otto IV, Count of Burgundy. The pro-imperialist party was led by Jean de Arlay, lord of Chalon, who made an ally of Adolf of Nassau, king of Germany. In 1293 Adolf brought an army to Colmar (now part of northeast France) to prevent Otto and his brother Hugh from undermining Jean’s power in the region. The next year Jean formed a league of twenty-four Francomtois nobles to resist Otto, and hostilities were still ongoing when Edward bought their services in 1297.56 At Koblenz the Burgundians obtained Adolf’s promise of support against the French. In return they pledged to lay their castles open to him and act as his vassals. Adolf vowed to bring his troops to Franche-Comté before 22 July. In the meantime, he granted them subsidies in advance, as well as leave to enter King Edward’s service on the same terms that they served him.57 He also granted the Count of Bar certain fiefs in Franche-Comté.58 The Burgundians and the Count of Bar were the only important members of Edward’s alliance to actually fight 53

54 55

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Bryce and Mary Lyon, The Wardrobe Book of 1296–1297: A Financial and Logistical Record of Edward I’s 1297 Autumn Campaign in Flanders Against Philip IV of France (Brussels, 2004), pp. 98–100. Bryce Lyon, “What Were the Expenses of the Kings Edward I and Edward III When Absent from Their Realm?,” Journal of Medieval History 29 (2003), 331–45. Bryce Lyon, “The Failed Flemish Campaign of Edward I in 1297. A Case Study of Efficient Logistics and Inadequate Military Planning,” Handelingen der Maatschappij voor Geschiedenis en Oudheidkunde te Gent Ugent 59 (2005), p. 41. David Abulafia, The New Cambridge Medieval History, vol. 5: c.1198–c.1300 (Cambridge, 1999), pp. 363–64. Charles Gérard, Les annales et la chronique des Dominicains de Colmar (Colmar, 1854), p. 170; Frantz Funck-Brentano, Philippe le Bel et la noblesse franc-comtoise (Paris, 1888), pp. 20–21. Marcel Grosdidier de Matons, “Le Comté de Bar, des origines au traité de Bruges (vers



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on his behalf, and both parties were reliant on Adolf. In the event, he would not provide the expected support. The War Begins Hostilities began shortly before 4 June, when Henry of Bar invaded the county of Champagne. Henry had married Edward I’s daughter Eleanor in 1293 and was therefore a natural recruit for the king’s alliance. He received an initial payment of at least 10,000 marks on 1 June and then an additional payment of £4,000 by 1299. In all, he was owed 30,000 marks for service with one thousand horse for six months.59 Champagne was held by Joan, queen of Navarre and queen consort to Philip IV. Henry split his forces in two, with the other led by his vassal, the Sire de Blâmont. The count attacked the abbey of Beaulieu, where his forces plundered and burnt the abbey, the treasury and the archives, as well as the nearby village. Meanwhile his lieutenant ravaged Champagne, destroyed villages and stormed the castles of Andelot and Wassy. Philip’s seneschal, Gercher de Cressy, counter-attacked and invaded the Barrois, forcing Henry and Blâmont to return to defend their land.60 Henry wreaked considerable havoc in Champagne: Philip’s officials were obliged to impose a special subsidy on the county to pay for the war, at a total assessment of 94,562 livres.61 A contemporary French soldier-poet, Guillaume Guiart, describes the invaders laying waste to a “good town.”62 On 4 June Edward wrote to Adolf of Nassau urging him to aid Henry against the French: Since our son, the Count of Bar, has begun war against the king of France and, furthermore, given that none of our other allies are in this region, and because he is under greater attack by our enemies than any other, we pray and earnestly entreat your highness that you will it that the said count be given aid by those of your men who are nearest him and who can best act in such manner as may protect [him] against our common enemy; this until we are able to provide other assistance there.63

Edward was aware that Henry was isolated and wanted Adolf to help. In an ominous sign of things to come, the German king sent no troops to Bar.64

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950–1301),” Mémoires de la société des lettres, sciences et arts de Bar-le-Duc 43 (1918– 1921), p. 487. E. B. Fryde, Studies in Medieval Trade and Finance, 2nd ed. (London, 1983), p. 1172. Grosdidier de Matons, “Comté de Bar,” p. 488 Joseph Strayer, The Reign of Philip the Fair (Princeton, 1980), p. 164. Guillaume Guiart, Branche des royaux lignages: chronique métrique de Guillaume Guiart; publiée pour la première fois, d’après les manuscrits de la Bibliothèque du Roi, ed. J. A. Buchon, 2nd ed. (Paris, 1828), p. 184. Rymer and Sanderson, Foedera, p. 867; translation by Richard Price. Mary Anne Everett Green, Lives of the Princesses of England (London, 1850), 2:311–12.

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Instead he contented himself with sending 600 livres, via the Count of Flanders, to aid the sire de Blâmont.65 Henry’s chevauchée may have been an effort to divert the French from the invasion of Flanders. No other member of the alliance took action. Count John of Holland was deterred by powerful opposition in his own country. His subjects appealed for aid to the Count of Hainault, who raised troops to hold John in check. Hainault also managed to hold in place the duke of Brabant (son of the duke who died in April 1294) by threatening to invade his lands if the latter marched to join Edward.66 As a result, there was little to stop the French when they crossed the border into Flanders on 15 June.67 King Philip advanced towards Lille and summoned Robert d’Artois from Gascony to assist in the siege. A number of skirmishes were fought around the city, and on 16 July the French defeated a force of German mercenaries and Flemings at the bridge of Comines.68 From an English (if not Flemish) perspective, the removal of Charles and his field army from Gascony was a blessing. Almost as soon as he was gone, Lincoln led out his troops from the ducal fortresses and embarked on a series of chevauchées in the region of Toulouse. The marauders burnt towns and villages, “ravaging with fire and sword” up to the feast of St. Katherine (29 September). They also broke the siege of Saint-Quitterie, a loyalist town, conducted by the men of Toulouse.69 Lincoln’s presence at Saint-Quitterie is verified by a letter patent dated there on 28 August, in which one Amauri de la Zouche acknowledged a loan from the king. The agreement was witnessed by Lincoln and Hugh de Vere and the money spent on the “sustenance” of Sir Robert Fitz-Neal, a knight serving in Amauri’s company.70 Afterwards Lincoln and his troops returned to winter quarters at Bayonne, laden “with much booty.”71 The threat of Edward’s arrival in Flanders effectively created a second front, forcing Philip to weaken the French position in Gascony. This in turn enabled a boost to English morale before the end of the campaign season. While Edward’s men in Gascony gained a much-needed respite, his allies in Flanders struggled to repel the concentrated French onslaught. Count Guy was 65 66 67 68 69

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Grosdidier de Matons, “Comté de Bar,” p. 488 Thomas F. Tout, The History of England from the Accession of Henry III to the Death of Edward III (London, 1905), p. 210. Pirenne, Histoire de Belgique, 2:379. Frantz Funck-Brentano, Chronique artésienne (1295–1304) nouvelle édition, et Chronique tournaisienne (1296–1314) (Paris, 1899), pp. 13–15. Nicholas Trivet, Annales sex regum Angliae, qui a comitibus Andegavensibus originem traxerunt (A.D. M.C.XXXVI.–M.CCC.VII.), ed. Thomas Hog (London, 1845), p. 362; Walter of Guisborough, Chronicle, p. 264. Kew, London, The National Archives, MS. E 101/ 155/2/2, Documents Relating to the Administration of Henry de Lacy, Earl of Lincoln, Lieutenant in Aquitaine. 22 to 25 Edw I. Trivet, Annales, p. 362; Walter of Guisborough, Chronicle, p. 264.



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in urgent need of support from England, and Edward would ideally have set sail in July or early August. This proved impossible: his Welsh infantry had not yet reached the departure point of Winchelsea, in East Sussex, and the king himself was still wrangling with his subjects over taxes raised for the war.72 The Flanders Campaign On 14 July Edward staged a remarkable piece of public theater, appearing on a raised platform outside Westminster Hall in front of a large crowd. Here the king publicly admitted his mistakes, acknowledged the suffering of his subjects and insisted he was acting for the good of the realm and the defense of his people. The central theme of his speech, if Langtoft is to be trusted, was the recovery of Gascony: I am castle for you, and wall, and house, And you the barbican, and gate, and pavilion; My land of Gascony is lost through treason, I must recover it, or lose my process. I have undertaken the expedition, I have finally made the vow; It is the duty of each of you by name to pass with me, Of that not a soul has excuse by evasion.73

Edward followed this up by issuing a proclamation at Udimore in Sussex on 12 August. Much of it was concerned with explaining his arguments with the earls of Norfolk and Hereford, who had refused to serve in Gascony, and the king’s oppressive exactions for the campaign in Flanders. The first part of the text reiterated his motives for going overseas: “because the king desires always the peace and quiet and welfare of all the people of his realm and…for the honor of God and to recover his rightful heritage [Gascony] of which he has been most deceitfully defrauded by the king of France and for the honor and common profit of his realm.”74 The proclamation goes on to mention the Count of Flanders as the king’s ally, and that the king and his “good people” had undertaken to cross the sea to help “the king’s friends over there,” another reference to the Flemings.75 In context this was a secondary motive, and Edward’s prime concern was clearly the salvation of Gascony. The king finally sailed from Winchelsea on 23 August, three days after his allies had suffered a bad defeat at Veurne in the west of Flanders.76 A combined Flemish and German force had assembled under the command of William of Jülich the elder, a grandson of Count Guy. It also included the sire de Blâmont, 72 73 74 75 76

Prestwich, Documents Illustrating the Crisis of 1297–1298 in England, pp. 26–32. Langtoft, Chronicle, p. 289. Rothwell, English Historical Documents: 1189–1327, p. 477. Ibid., p. 479. Prestwich, Documents Illustrating the Crisis of 1297–1298, p. 32.

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who had made his way to Flanders, and two of the German princes on Edward’s payroll. These were the Count of Katzenelnbogen, who had joined Edward’s alliance for a subsidy of £500, and Waleran of Valkenburg, whose fee was 300 livres tournois.77 The Germans acted independently of their king, Adolf of Nassau, who at this point was in peace talks with Philip. On 30 July Philip authorized a commission to meet with German envoys, and talks were still ongoing on 31 August, when Adolf informed Count Guy of the possibility of his reaching agreement with France. A peace was not, in the end, concluded, but the negotiations further prevented Adolf from assisting his allies.78 The battle of Veurne (also called the Battle of Bulskamp, since it was fought on the plain of Bulskamp south of Veurne) was decided by treachery. As soon as the armies were engaged, two Flemish nobles, the viscount of Veurne and the sire de Ghistelles, defected to the French. William of Jülich was advised to retreat but insisted on continuing the fight. After heavy casualties on both sides, the German-Flemish army was forced to flee. The survivors burnt Veurne and then retreated to Lille. Eighteen knights and squires were taken prisoner at the battle, including Blâmont, and at least five Flemish nobles slain.79 It is unknown when Edward learned of the defeat. Even if the news reached him before he left England, the king was too committed to change his plans. He ran into difficulties as soon as the English fleet arrived at the Zwyn estuary on the northeast coast of Flanders. There was a bitter, age-old feud between the sailors of the Cinque Ports and Yarmouth, and they chose this moment to attack each other. Edward took hostages from both sides to keep the peace, but the damage and loss of life was severe. The most reliable account states that seventeen ships were burned, twelve looted and 165 men killed, with damages estimated at £5,000.80 The records of the Wardrobe and its equipment aboard the Bayard of Yarmouth were in danger, and only saved by the quick-witted action of one Philip de Hales, who cut the mooring cable and enabled the ship to drift clear.81 After this unpromising start Edward marched up the coast to join Count Guy at Bruges, one of the few cities still held by the Flemings. His army was in grave danger, threatened on all sides by French troops. According to the Bury chronicler: “The king was surrounded with perils: behind him he saw danger, by which he was troubled, since his troops were closely engaged; in front of him he saw the enemy in open country, which ought to frighten him; as for his flanks, they were almost bare of troops.”82

77 78 79 80 81 82

Michael Prestwich, “Edward I’s Wars and Their Financing, 1294–1307,” (Ph.D. thesis, University of Oxford, 1968), pp. 5, 11. Prestwich, “Edward I and Adolf of Nassau,” p. 130. Funck-Brentano, Chronique artésienne, pp. 15–16. F. W. Brooks, “The Cinque Ports’ Feud with Yarmouth in the Thirteenth Century,” Mariner’s Mirror 19 (1933), p. 44. Prestwich, War, Politics and Finance, p. 143. Chronicle of Bury St. Edmunds, ed. Antonia Gransden (London, 1964), p. 143.



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Map 5.1  Flanders, circa 1300

Edward adopted a ruse, sending some of his Welsh infantry in advance of the army, “with lances erect and pennons attached” to deceive the enemy into thinking his army was much larger than it seemed. The ruse worked, and Edward safely linked up with Count Guy at Bruges.83 Here the king had his first direct experience of the political divisions within Flanders. Edward noted the town magistrates showed little desire to defend the town, even though a loan for this purpose had been collected in June. When the king offered to contribute money to the fortification, it was refused.84 Edward suspected treachery and quickly left for the safer refuge of Ghent.85 One English source claims the provost of Bruges was plotting against Count Guy, and meant to kidnap King Edward and hand him over to the French.86 Edward’s suspicions were justified when the Brugeois 83 84 85 86

Ibid. Frantz Funck-Brentano, Les origines de la guerre de cent ans. Philippe le Bel en Flandre (Paris, 1896), pp. 259–60. Chronicle of Bury St Edmunds, p. 143. Langtoft, Chronicle, pp. 295–96, p. 295.

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formally surrendered the city to the French on 18 September, along with the port town of Damme.87 Edward’s hurried departure from Bruges is shown by the large amount of supplies his army left behind, including thousands of quarters of wheat as well as meat carcasses, beans, peas and oats.88 On the march from Bruges to Ghent, the king’s army was again tracked by the French. This time they were reluctant to attack due to the number of archers in Edward’s host.89 Since most of his infantry were Welsh, this could be an indirect reference to the bow of Gwent described by Gerald of Wales, which had a short range but was capable of pinning an armored man to his saddle.90 It could even refer to the longbow. Modern archaeological digs on castle sites in Wales have discovered narrow armor-piercing arrowheads, specifically for use in warfare against mailed or armored opponents. These arrowheads are too long and heavy to have been fitted with short bows, the longest with socket (discovered at Dryslwyn) being over 16 centimeters in length. They date from the mid to late thirteenth century and suggest that “true longbows” were in use among the Welsh in this period.91 Ghent was a heavily fortified city, “an impregnable fortress and an invincible place of refuge, surrounded by remarkable walls, ditches, palisades and moats.”92 When Edward reached the city, he initially kept his army behind a fosse or defensive ditch, constructed with the help of Flemish labor.93 One beneficial consequence of his stay was a temporary boost to the ailing Flemish economy due to the extra supplies he bought locally and the alms and oblations distributed by his almoner.94 Meanwhile Philip marched to Ingelmunster, some 21 miles (as the crow flies) south-west of Edward’s base at Ghent, where the patricians of Bruges offered him the keys to their city.95 Even at Ghent, Edward and his men were not safe. Soon after his arrival he and Count Guy left the city on a sortie. While they were gone, the citizens barred the gates and began to attack the English who were trapped inside. The English rallied and managed to drive off the Flemings; one of the Welsh infantrymen earned a bounty from the king for swimming the river to save a

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Verbruggen, The Battle of the Golden Spurs, p. 17. Prestwich, Edward I’s Wars and their Financing 1294–1307, p. 206. Walter of Guisborough, Chronicle, p. 316. Gerald of Wales, The Journey through Wales and the Description of Wales, ed. and trans. Betty Radice and Lewis Thorpe (London, 1978), p. 113. Chris Caple, Excavations at Dryslwyn Castle 1980–1995, Society for Medieval Archaeology Monographs, 26 (New York, 2007), pp. 192–206. Chronicle of Bury St. Edmunds, p. 144. Bryce and Mary Lyon, “The Logistics for Edward I’s Ill-fated Campaign in Flanders (1297–1298),” Handelingen der Maatschappij voor Geschiedenis en Oudheidkunde te Gent Ser. NR, 55 (2001), pp. 85–87; Bryce and Mary Lyon, The Wardrobe Book 1296–1297, pp. 101–102. Ibid., pp. 87–88. Pirenne, Histoire de Belgique, 1:379.



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comrade.96 Edward and his party were only able to re-enter the city thanks to the services of more Welshmen, who contrived to get inside via one of the streams by which the city was intersected and burn down the gates. The Welsh then ran riot and set fire to part of the city.97 On another occasion Edward was nearly killed when a Flemish crossbowman tried to shoot him in the street. The bolt missed and hit one of his retinue. In a rage, Edward ordered the street to be fired.98 From this it seems the king was struggling to control his Welsh infantry. Edward’s own lack of self-control scarcely helped matters, though his anger at being shot at is understandable. His mood cannot have been improved by news of the disaster of Stirling Bridge in Scotland, where on 11 September the Earl of Surrey was routed by the Scots, led by William Wallace and Andrew de Moray.99 When the king became aware of the defeat is uncertain, though it was known in London by 24 September. It made no immediate difference to his plans, and the task of recovering the English position in Scotland was initially given to Surrey, who was instructed “not to leave that land in any way until its state be assured.”100 So far, Edward had achieved very little in Flanders. The only fighting had occurred between his own sailors and against the Flemings, whom he was supposed to be helping. At least he had avoided defeat and his army was still intact, which was something. Counter-Attack In early October the king and his allies finally went on the offensive. Damme, the port town of Bruges, had fallen to the French in late September.101 The loss of Bruges and Damme cut off Edward’s forces in Flanders from the most direct route to the Channel, which probably explains the motive for the allied counter-attack. Damme was also an important harbor for extra supplies sent via Winchelsea in August and early September.102 On 6 October an allied army led by Robert of Béthune, Count Guy’s eldest son, appeared before the walls of Damme. The Chronique artésienne claimed this action occurred on 10 October,103 four days later, but this dating is contradicted by a payment to Robert de Scales, a banneret in the English army: To lord Robert de Scales, knight, for his wages from the sixth day of October when he first raised his standard before Damme and for his one knight made a Ibid. William of Rishanger, Chronica et annales, regnantibus Henrico Tertio et Edwardo Primo AD 1259–1307, ed. Henry Thomas Riley (Cambridge, 1865), p. 413. 98 Ibid. 99 Prestwich, Edward I, p. 427. 100 Calendar of Close Rolls, 1296–1302, p. 132. 101 Verbruggen, The Battle of the Golden Spurs, p. 18. 102 Bryce and Mary Lyon, The Wardrobe Book 1296–1297, p. 32 & p. 54. 103 Funck-Brentano, Chronique artésienne, p. 17, f. 4. 96 97

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knight on the same day and six of his squires, until the eleventh day of November, each of whom are credited for 37 days; with the aforesaid Robert at 4 shillings per day, his knight at 2 shillings per day, and for all the squires 12 pence per day by his own hand.104

A later enquiry from 1304 reveals split loyalties within the town in 1297. It was divided into two parties, one for the king of France, the other for Count Guy. The leaders of the pro-French party, “the party of the Lily,” were named as Guillaume and P. de Speye and J. le Cosere; the leaders of the opposition as Cl. li Leus, Dierkin son of Dierk, G. le Blank and P. Winne. These factions vied for the support of the general populace, the “floating mass,” whose loyalties swayed back and forth. After the battle of Veurne they held to the pro-Philip party, only to switch their support to the pro-Flemish after suffering oppression by the French garrison.105 In fact the defenders of Damme were a mix of French and Flemish. Philip had won the support of the guilds in Bruges with a subsidy of £1,000, and they subsequently sent crossbowmen and artisans to help garrison the town. By 3 October these Flemish troops consisted of 131 crossbowmen and 24 helpers, 69 weavers, 62 fullers and 34 shearers.106 According to the annalist of Ghent there were also at least four hundred French nobles and commoners.107 In early October work began on refortifying the town, and iron chains were stretched across the narrow streets as a means of protection.108 The fortifications were still incomplete when Robert arrived at the head of an Anglo-Welsh-Flemish army on 6 October. A bloody action followed when his men stormed the walls. According to the Minorite of Ghent: Robert, the count’s eldest son, with many Flemish, English and Welsh, attacked the town of Damme where encirclement with a ditch and walls had begun, and slew in it many French, both nobles and common people, to the number of four hundred, and captured others, and entered into possession of that town, and, as a result, of the port of Bruges. And he would have secured Bruges itself, had not the victorious English and Flemings disagreed among themselves and fought each other over the division of spoils.109

An eyewitness account of the capture of Damme and its aftermath is supplied in a letter to Edward I, which reads, “Sire, on the Tuesday that we left you, we went to Aardenburg, and on the next day we went to Damme, and when we stayed there, there was a fight between a German valet and a Fleming, a Bryce and Mary Lyon, The Wardrobe Book of 1296–1297, p. 85. Frantz Funck-Brentano, Les origines, pp. 268–69. 106 Verbruggen, The Battle of the Golden Spurs, p. 18. 107 Annales Gandenses: Annals of Ghent, ed. and trans Hilda Johnstone (Oxford, 1985), pp. 5–6. 108 Verbruggen, The Battle of the Golden Spurs, p. 18. 109 Johnstone, Annales Gandenses, pp. 5–6. 104 105



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taverner in the town. Our footmen ran there and assembled in large numbers, so that houses were broken where the Flemings were, and a good thirty or forty of them were killed, as far as we know, and not a soul of our men was killed, thanks to God. And as soon as we knew about it we went there and calmed it down, so that before Vespers all was at peace, honour be to God.”110 Unfortunately, the name of the correspondent is lost. The later enquiry reveals that the leaders of the anti-French party inside Damme were made aldermen after the town was recaptured.111 Edward would later pay the expenses of two friars, John of Wrotham and William of Pickering, going on royal business to Damme throughout the month of October.112 After the recapture of Damme, Edward seems to have called upon the services of his son-in-law Henry, Count of Bar. An account of Henry’s actions is given in an English chronicle: King Edward remains, and eat and drinks; His Welsh often issued forth for plunder. The warlike Count of Bar often rode out with them, And invaded and plundered the territory of the king of France; Robbed his markets and fairs of their chattels, Spared not to do evil everywhere; And King Philip did as much to him.113

The presence of Bar at Ghent, where Langtoft places him, is also implied in the chronicle of Lodewijk van Velthem, a Flemish poet and priest who claimed to have witnessed these events. Of Edward’s arrival at Ghent, Velthem wrote: The duke of Brabant was also there with many men, as you should know, from his land, and also with many from the borders of the Meuse, and many a lord, and also from the Rhine, had they come there as it appears.114

The province of Bar (now Bar-le-Duc) lay within the Meuse on the eastern borders of France, and from the above it appears that the Count of Bar – or at any rate, some of his followers – were present at Ghent to join Edward. Two days after the recapture of Damme, Edward’s allies in Burgundy also went into action. On 8 October Jean de Arlay and his associates attacked the 110 111 112 113 114

Prestwich, Documents Illustrating the Crisis, pp. 152–153. My thanks to Professor Prestwich for supplying this translation via email. Funck-Brentano, Les Origines, pp. 269. Bryce and Mary Lyon, The Wardrobe Book of 1296–1297, p. 19. Langtoft, Chronicle, pp. 295–96. Lodewijk Van Velthem, Voortzetting van den Spiegel historiael (1248–1316), ed. Herman vander Linden, Paul de Keyser and Adolf van Loey (Brussels, 1906–1938), 5de partie (fragment), p. 667; English translation supplied to me via email by Dr Jan Burgers.

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castle of Ornans, a formidable stronghold perched upon a rocky ledge above the Loue valley in the Franche-Comté. The castle was taken and destroyed, and on the same day Jean wrote to Edward, informing him of the success.115 On 9 October Jean was moved to write a second letter to the king. This included the same details of the capture of Ornans “for the glory of your cause,” and the Frenchmen taken prisoner or slain. He added that the French were sending a force to recover the castle, though Jean hoped to “come soon (without delay) and to serve you for a term without excuses.”116 The attack on Ornans was probably symbolic as well as strategic, since it was the birthplace of the pro-French Count of Burgundy.117 The castle was “levelled to the ditches” and the town looted and burned.118 The Truce of Vive-Saint-Bavon On 9 October, a day after the fall of Ornans, representatives of the kings of England and France agreed to a short truce at Vive-Saint-Baron.119 Philip’s decision to agree to the truce, since he had Edward “apparently at his mercy,” has been questioned.120 Edward’s situation in Flanders was certainly difficult, but his rival also had problems. Edward’s presence on Flemish soil had turned Philip’s flank, obliging him to siphon off forces from Gascony to meet the threat. The loss of Damme was a blow to the French. Philip must have been aware of the war in Burgundy, though news of the fall of Ornans would not have reached him until after the truce. More significantly, he was also aware of the English counter-attack in Gascony, where Henry de Lacy’s large-scale chevauchée in August and September had left its mark on the Toulousain. On 8 October, the day before the truce, Philip’s officials in Paris granted exemption from war taxes to certain inhabitants of the Languedoc. The details of this grant may refer to the castles and vills targeted by Lincoln’s troops. It states: We inform you that the representatives of the men of the see of Albi, of the vills of Marsac and of Rouffiac, of the bishop of Albi’s Bastide, of Denat, Puyfaucon, Montsalvy, Cambon and Montille, and of the other castles and vills of the bishop of Albi and of the monastery of Saint Salvi in the seneschalcy of Carcassonne, Fritz Kern, Acta Imperii Angliae et Franciae (1267–1313) (New York, 1973), p. 85. My thanks to Richard Price for these translations. 116 Ibid., pp. 85–86. My thanks to Richard Price for these translations. 117 Édouard Clerc, Essai sur l’histoire de la Franche-Comté, vol. 1 (Ghent, 1870), p. 504. 118 A. Laurens, Annuaire statistique de département du Doubs (Lyon, 1830), p. 97. 119 Thomas Rymer and R. Sanderson, Foedera, conventiones, litterae, et cujuscunque generis acta publica, inter reges Angliae et alios quosvis impeatores, reges, pontifices, principes, vel communitates: ab ingressu Gulielmi I. in Angliam, A.D. 1066, ad nostra usque tempora habita aut tractata (London, 1816), 1.2:879. 120 Prestwich, Edward I, p. 394. 115



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have objected to a decree made, so it is said, in the said seneschalcy by master Jehan de Foret, the lord King’s clerk, for the raising of eight small sous Tournois from each hearth as an aid for the present war, and maintain that the aforesaid men have been repeatedly and unendurably burdened by this war.

The order goes on to state that the collectors of subsidies in Carcassone, Beaucaire and Rodex were to set no precedents in the levy of subsidies in the Languedoc.121 Interestingly, it also states the men of Languedoc had suffered “grievous burdens” on account of the current war against England, and the previous war against Aragon (1284–1285). Petitions from other communities in the Toulousain, notably the vill of Laurac, show that Philip’s officers were employing violent and extortionate methods of raising the tax.122 Edward’s captains in Gascony appear to have realized the Toulousain was vulnerable, and repeatedly targeted it: John de St. John had led a similar chevauchée into the region at the end of the campaigning season for the previous year.123 There is also the actual size of the opposing armies to consider. One complete account exists for mounted French men-at-arms under Charles of Valois, when he invaded Flanders after the expiration of the truce in 1300. The scribe records a total of 1,563 men with armor. This is the only sure figure for French armies of this era, since records are otherwise fragmentary and numbers given by chroniclers cannot be relied on. A rough estimate is that Philip generally maintained a force of five to ten thousand men when on campaign.124 Though precise figures are a matter of conjecture, it seems that French armies in this period did not raise large numbers of foot to complement the men-at-arms. For instance, the army of Robert d’Artois at Bellegarde has been estimated at nine hundred men-at-arms and seven hundred foot.125 Modern historians have estimated the size of the French army at Courtrai in 1302 at some three thousand knights and five thousand infantry. Many sources cite the large number of French knights at Courtrai, implying this was unusual.126 If the above calculations are correct, then Philip’s army at Ingelmunster may not have greatly outnumbered Edward’s army of some eight thousand infantry and eight hundred cavalry. There were also Count Guy’s troops. At the start Claude de Vic and Dom J. Vaissete, Histoire générale de Languedoc, vol. 10 (Toulouse, 1872), c. 345; translation provided here by Richard Price. 122 Ch.-V. Langlois, “Les doléances des communautés du toulousain contre Pierre de Latilli et Raoul de Breuilli (1297–1298),” Revue historique 95 (1907), pp. 23–53. 123 Walter of Guisborough, Chronicle, p. 262. 124 Strayer, The Reign of Philip the Fair, pp. 376–77. 125 This figure is gleaned from a comparison of sources. Guiart: 600 men-at-arms and 700 foot; Ancienne Chroniques de Flandre: 700 men-at-arms and 700 foot; Walter of Guisborough, Chronicle: 1,500 men-at-arms; Nangis: 500 French. However, Langtoft and the Chronica de Melsa inflate the numbers of French to 1,500 men-at-arms and 5,000 foot. Figures taken from Lawton, Henry de Lacy, pp. 112–13. 126 Kelly DeVries, Infantry Warfare in the Early Fourteenth Century: Discipline, Tactics and Technology (Woodbridge, 1996), pp. 13–14. 121

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of 1297 he had raised 602 men-at-arms from the Rhine area and Brabant and hoped to increase this figure to 732. He tried to engage another 480 horse from the same region as well as Luxembourg and Namur.127 The number of Flemish infantry is unknown. Despite losses at Comines and Veurne, it is reasonable to suppose that Guy still had a significant force. Therefore, it is possible the opposing armies were of roughly equal size. This in turn could explain the reluctance of either king to risk a battle. Philip’s forces twice failed to attack the English army in the open, when Edward marched from the Zwyn estuary to Bruges and from Bruges to Ghent. The situation in October 1297 was finely balanced. At this point Philip was faced with a stalemate in Flanders, ongoing war in Burgundy and Gascony and the effects of severe ravaging in Champagne and the Toulousain. There was also the potential threat of other members of Edward’s alliance, and Philip had to take into account the state of his finances. The French war effort in Gascony had been running at a chronic deficit since the previous year, which the war in Flanders did nothing to ease. French troops in Gascony were still owed large outstanding payments in the summer of 1298.128 Overall, a truce may have seemed preferable to Philip than fighting on several fronts at once. Edward, of course, would have wished to heap far more pressure on his enemy. His allies were supposed to attack Philip from all sides. Instead, they arrived piecemeal and in many cases not at all. The most important absentee was Adolf of Nassau, whose actions and motivations shall be discussed later. His failure to join Edward did not discourage some of the lesser German princes, who joined the ill-fated army defeated at Veurne on 20 August. In one case failure to attend was unavoidable: The archbishop of Cologne had died at Bonn in April, still waiting for Edward’s arrival.129 Truce Edward’s hopes of victory were dented on 15 October, five days after the sack of Damme, when John of Cuyk wrote to Edward informing him that Adolf had not gathered enough troops but expected reinforcements.130 The king was not entirely discouraged. On the sixteenth he wrote to the exchequer asking for more money for subsidies to the duke of Brabant and the king of Germany, for without it the alliance might fall through.131 When Adolf still failed to appear, Edward gave up hope of a military victory and reverted to arbitration. The initial terms of 7 October had afforded only a Verbruggen, The Battle of the Golden Spurs, p. 16. Vale, Origins, p. 212. 129 Joseph Patrick Huffman, The Social Politics of Medieval Diplomacy: Anglo-German Relations (1066–1307), Studies in Medieval and Early Modern Civilization (Michigan, 2000), p. 309. 130 Prestwich, Documents Illustrating the Crisis, no. 158. 131 Ibid., no. 159. 127 128



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short breathing space, with the truce to last just two months in Flanders and three in Gascony.132 Further negotiations were held in November at Groningen Abbey near Courtrai, conducted on the English side by William Hotham, an experienced diplomat and archbishop-elect of Dublin. A further armistice was agreed.133 On 23 November the truce was extended another three months. The following day writs were dispatched to England to summon more knights to perform military service in Flanders.134 Edward’s intentions are revealed by a letter of 27 November, to his son and the council in London, asking for reinforcements. These were required so he could impress the French and gain better terms.135 The truce held until the end of January 1298, when two papal legates, the generals of the Franciscan and Dominican orders, arrived to repeat the pope’s request that both Edward and Philip submit their dispute over Gascony to arbitration before the Holy See. On 31 January, the English envoys once again met with their French counterparts, this time at Tournai, and agreed to a longer armistice, to last until 7 January 1300.136 Edward had achieved a two-year peace with France, lifting the intense pressure placed on his strongholds in Gascony after Lincoln’s defeat at Bellegarde. This was a tangible gain, though the victory he had hoped and paid for proved impossible. He also gained a respite for Count Guy and Flanders, albeit a temporary one. It is wrong to state that Edward “shamefully abandoned” Guy at this juncture.137 Along with the rest of Edward’s allies, the count was included in the initial truce of Vive-St. Bavon.138 One of the terms of the treaty between England and Flanders was that Edward would not make peace with France without Guy’s knowledge and consent.139 This was given on 10 October, when he formally accepted the truce: To all those who will see these letters, Guy, Count of Flanders and marquis of Namur, gives greeting. We inform you that since an armistice has been made under fixed terms until a set date between the most high princes the King of France and the King of England on behalf of them and their allies in all the wars between them, we, bound to the said armistice in the form it has been made, agreed and sealed with the seal of the said King of England, do assent and promise in good faith, and have so sworn on the holy gospels on behalf of ourself and of our children, that we will keep and will ensure the said armistice is kept loyally and in full, in such wise that all our people of Flanders and of all our power, like

132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139

Rymer and Sanderson, Foedera, pp. 878–79. Ibid., pp. 881–82. The Parliamentary Writs and Writs of Military Summons, ed. Francis Palgrave (London, 1827), pp. 698–99, 749, 872, 880, 886. Prestwich, Edward I, p. 394. Rymer and Sanderson, Foedera, pp. 885–86. Prestwich, War, Politics and Finance under Edward I, p. 32. Rymer and Sanderson, Foedera, pp. 878–79. Pirenne, Histoire de Belgique, 1:378.

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ourself, shall henceforth be included in that armistice and may come and go, trade and work throughout all the land of the kingdom of France and throughout all the lands of the allies of the King of France, in safety and in peace insofar and for so long as the terms of the above mentioned armistice shall last. In witness of which we have made these present letters, sealed with our seal, made and given in the year of grace twelve hundred and ninety-seven.140

Guy was also included in the further armistice agreed at Groningen on 23 November, and in the final round of peace talks at Tournai.141 The Tournai agreement preserved what remained of independent Flanders until the expiry of the truce in January 1300. Philip kept his territorial gains, including Lille and Bruges, while Guy was left with Douai, Ypres, Ghent, the Waas country between Antwerp and Ghent, and the region of Quatre-Métiers.142 There were still tensions among the allies. In February 1298 another rising occurred at Ghent, whose inhabitants had brawled with Edward’s soldiers the previous September. It has been suggested the riot was caused by anger among the Gantois, when they realized Edward was deserting them.143 None of the English or Flemish chronicles give this as a motive. One English source claims the Gantois planned to betray Edward, stating, “Moreover the men of Flanders had planned to hand over the king of England, to whom they had allied themselves, to the king of France. They attempted to deceive him by various tricks and plots, because it is said, their wives, daughter and maidservants had been debauched by the English. So on the feast of St. Blaise [11 February] they attempted to carry out the wicked plan they had conceived against the English.”144 The Flemings, it was said, rang bells inside the town as a pre-arranged signal for the entire country to rise against the English. Edward’s men were trapped inside and exposed to fire from ballistas and war-machines placed on the battlements. Fortunately, some of his English and Welsh troops were quartered in the suburbs. These men managed to burn their way through the gates to help their comrades, who turned on the Flemings and routed them. Edward himself joined in, charging the Flemings at the head of his household knights and trampling down a chain stretched across the street.145 A different version of events is found in a pro-Flemish account, written by a Minorite of Ghent. This claims the English started the riot by setting fire to parts of the city. The Gantois then marched out to defend their families and property, and “strongly and courageously resisted the English.” If not for the intervention of Count Guy, the annalist claims, King Edward and all his men would have Manchester, University of Manchester Library, MS. PHC/.146. Translation by Richard Price. 141 Rymer and Sanderson, Foedera, pp. 881–92; pp. 885–86. 142 Pirenne, Histoire de Belgique, 1:379. 143 Prestwich, Edward I, p. 394. 144 Chronicle of Bury St. Edmunds, p. 146. 145 Ibid., pp. 146–147. 140



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been killed or captured.146 In all, it seems more likely the violence was caused by tensions between Edward’s infantry and the citizens of Ghent, rather than political factors. It is difficult to assess casualties suffered by the king’s army. The Minorite gives precise figures and claims the Gantois slew thirty of Edward’s “noble knights” and about seventy of his infantry. Of the citizens, he claims twelve were burnt by the English and twenty-five killed in the fighting.147 The figure of thirty English knights must be an overstatement, if not outright fabrication. This would have represented the worst loss of English nobles in a single engagement since the Battle of Evesham in 1265, and the names of the dead would almost certainly have been listed. For instance, the names of sixteen English knights drowned at the Battle of Moel-y-Don in Wales in November 1282 were carefully recorded by the annalist of Chester.148 The casualties suffered among English knights in the war in Gascony are recorded in various chronicle sources: Adam de Creting, killed at Rions in May 1295;149 Philip of Matersdon and Alan of Twitham, killed at Bellegarde in January 1297;150 James de Beauchamp, killed at the same battle151, and so on. No slain knights are mentioned by name in any source for the Flanders campaign. Casualties among the infantry are less certain. One constable of Welsh infantry, Llywelyn Goly, was paid his expenses by the king on 28 September so he could return home on account of infirmity.152 Unfortunately the Wardrobe Book only gives extracts rather than full accounts for the infantry, and records no other certain losses before the account ends in autumn 1297, when the regnal year closed.153 Even less information can be gleaned for the second rising in February 1298. On 24 February privy seal writs were drawn up in Ghent, to be sent to England to request safe-conduct for Welsh troops that had already been shipped back to England. On 11 March the chancery issued letters for the men of Glamorgan, with further letters on 15 March for the men of north and west Wales. One final batch of letters, for a group of five stragglers, was issued on 27 March.154 Unfortunately little can be gleaned from these routine orders, save that the Welsh infantry appear to have been transported home more or less intact. Their officers or “conductors,” Robert le Veel, Gruffudd Llwyd and Morgan ap Maredudd, were certainly alive and well. The accounts are silent on the condition of Edward’s English and Irish troops. Annales Gandenses, p. 7. Ibid. 148 Richard Copley Christie, ed. and tr. Annales Cestrienses, or, Chronicle of the Abbey of S. Werburg, at Chester (London, 1887), pp. 110–13. 149 Lawton, Henry de Lacy, p. 128. 150 Ibid., p. 129 & p. 137. 151 Ibid., p. 155. 152 Bryce and Mary Lyon, The Wardrobe Book, p. 77. 153 Ibid., p. 7. 154 Calendar of the Patent Rolls 1292–1301 (London, 1895), pp. 334–35. 146 147

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Whatever the truth behind these events, it is clear that Ghent was not a safe refuge. On 4 February 1298 commissions were issued for ships “suitable for carrying men, horses and other necessaries” to be collected in Norfolk and Suffolk, for the purpose of sailing to Sluys and carrying the king and his army home.155 Sometime between 23 February and 1 March Edward moved from Ghent to Aardenburg, near the Zeeland border and the territory of another son-in-law, the Count of Holland.156 By now the king was in financial difficulties. He had already been obliged to borrow 4,000 livres from a group of merchants of Asti, back in October, at an exorbitant interest rate. Emergency loans were obtained from Italian banking firms, notably the Frescobaldi. In early February Edward wrote to the exchequer, demanding money to pay off his Burgundian allies and deliver him and his army from Flanders.157 The retreat to Aardenburg suggests Edward had given up on the campaign. Others certainly had. Some of the Scottish knights, who had agreed to serve in exchange for their release, slipped away from the army en route to Aardenburg.158 The Scots supposedly went to Paris, where they begged King Philip to attack Edward. Philip angrily refused and dismissed them, saying the pope had forbidden him to break the truce.159 Edward, however, was not done yet. On 7 March 1298 the king drew up a new treaty with his allies in Franche-Comté. Given his situation at this time, its terms are remarkable and worth quoting in detail. An agreement was made with eighteen nobles of Burgundy, headed by Renaud de Burgoyne, Count of Montbéliard, and Jean de Arlay. It was stated that these men had: “promised and sworn to us that, in order to have our financial assistance to defend their rights against the king of France, they should assist us in good faith and help us in the war that we and our allies have against the king of France and his heirs.”160 This referred to the activities of the Francomtois on Edward’s behalf to date. The next section reveals his intention to continue the war, saying: The said nobles should make and continue lively and open war against the same king of France, and against his allies and accomplices, in the county of Burgundy and its neighbouring places, for as long as the war which we have against the said king of France should continue; And they should continue to do so until a final peace should be made, just as is most plainly contained in the said promise and in other agreements, according to the letters made concerning those aforesaid agreements.161 Ibid., p. 328. Prestwich, Documents Illustrating the Crisis, pp. 187–88. 157 Ibid., p. 35. 158 Fiona Jane Watson, Traitor, Outlaw, King. Part One: The Making of Robert Bruce (N.P., 2018), p. 102; Rishanger, Chronica et annales, p. 185. 159 Langtoft, Chronicle, 311. 160 Rymer and Sanderson, Foedera, p. 888. Translated by Professor Jonathan Mackman at the National Archives. 161 Ibid. 155

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This is followed by the terms of payment, reading: And know that we have promised to the said noble men that we shall give and pay to them and their heirs, or at their command, in aid of the costs which they shall endure in making and continuing the said war, according to what is contained in the said agreements, 30,000 small livres tournois, or the same value in other money, beyond the sum of 60,000 small livres tournois which they have already had and received of our gift, in order to make and continue this said war for this year, ending on the first day of June, to be paid at Brussels in Brabant each year afterwards, for as long as the war should last and continue.162

It was then stipulated that the first payment of 15,000 livres would be made on the first day of June, and the second on the first day of December. If there was a delay, payments would be made within ten weeks of these dates. Edward promised to provide this assistance for as long as the war lasted, and in return the nobles would “make and continue” their war against Philip. If, for whatever reason, the payments could not be made at Brussels, the nobles would receive their money either at Ghent in Flanders, or some other suitable place in Flanders or Brabant.163 In February Edward had insisted on paying the Burgundians before he left Flanders, but that was for their service to date. They did not receive full satisfaction until 10 May 1306, so the money Edward promised in March 1298 was not paid over for several years.164 The king’s strategy is not easy to interpret. He had no intention of remaining in Flanders for any longer than necessary, and landed at Sandwich on 14 March, just seven days after the above treaty was struck at Aardenburg.165 At the same time there was little point in renewing the war in Burgundy, at such extra cost, if Edward didn’t intend to salvage something from his overseas campaign. Perhaps the most likely interpretation is that he wanted to keep the French occupied and prevent them sending aid to the Scots. Alternatively, he may have hoped to defeat the Scots with relative ease – just as he had in 1296 – and then turn about to deal with the French. As it was, the Falkirk campaign proved difficult and Edward was unable to return to the continent. The lords of Burgundy did indeed resume their war against the French. Unfortunately, the chronology of their campaign is vague. The fall of Ornans can be securely dated, thanks to Jean de Arlay’s letters to Edward in early October 1297 (see above), but there is some confusion over his other activities. Jean and his comrades, the Count of Montbéliard and the Sire de Joux, were still in arms in 1299. In September of that year Philip IV engaged Geoffroi d’Aucelles, knight, to deliver these men to the king if they fell into his hands.166 At Pentecost 1301, Ibid. Ibid. 164 Calendar of Patent Rolls 1301–1307, p. 432. 165 Prestwich, Edward I, p. 431. 166 Mémoires et documents inédits, pour servir à l’histoire de la Franche-Comté publiés par l’Académie de Besançon, vol. 3 (Besançon, 1844), p. 165, n. 1. 162 163

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when Jean finally made peace with Philip, he and his companions agreed to pay to repair the castles of Ornans and Clerval (Clairvaux, some 25 miles northeast of Ornans), as well as the “sale de Pontalié” (Pontarlier, 23 miles southeast of Ornans), all of which the league had destroyed during the war.167 The attacks on Clairvaux and Pontarlier cannot be dated precisely, though they probably occurred between the sack of Ornans in October 1297 and the cease of hostilities in Burgundy in 1301.168 The league enjoyed further success, though again the dating is imprecise. A number of skirmishes were fought against Philip’s knights, some of whom were captured and imprisoned in the castle of Roulans, another stronghold in Franche-Comté. Among the captives was Girard Flote, bailiff of Mâcon. His loss was a serious blow to the French, since Philip had previously made him second-in-command of royal forces in the region.169 Funck-Brentano states these knights were captured after Edward’s treaty on 7 March, but the source is unreliable.170 Overall, the barons of Franche-Comtoisé served their paymaster better than most of his allies, and inflicted serious damage on Philip’s cause in Burgundy. Edward in turn appreciated their efforts; hence his insistence on paying the Francomtoise in February 1298, and the renewal of his alliance with them in March. Adolf of Nassau The support of Adolf of Nassau, king of Germany, was vital to the outcome of the war. He had pledged to aid the league of Franche-Comté and accepted offers of massive subsidies from King Edward. Both of his allies waited in vain for Adolf to appear. A later French memorandum, possibly drawn up in the 1330s, states the king of Germany accepted a “bribe” from Philip to desert the English. The document is riddled with inaccuracies and Adolf is not actually named in the text. It may be that the author was confused between Adolf and his enemy Albert of Hapsburg, who was in French pay.171 With regard to the English alliance, it has been pointed out that Adolf did not receive all the money owed to him. It was agreed he should receive a subsidy of £60,000 in three instalments, the first two of which were paid by Christmas 1294. The third was to be paid when Edward landed on the continent. Adolf had to wait another three years for the last instalment, and it seems he never got it. When the barrels of coin finally arrived in Flanders, Edward needed them to pay “Dépouillement du recueil Conrart de la bibliothèque de l’Arsenal,” Le cabinet historique 6, part 2 (1860), p. 72. 168 Clerc, Essai sur l’histoire de la Franche-Comté, p. 483. 169 Funck-Brentano, Philippe le Bel et la noblesse franc-comtoise, pp. 5–40. 170 Funck-Brentano (above, p. 00) quotes Clerc, Essai sur l’histoire de la Franche-Comté, 1:504; Clerc provides no reference. 171 Prestwich, War, Politics and Finance, p. 174. 167



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his troops and purchase supplies. In this respect the English king certainly failed his ally, and the truce he made with Philip at Vive-Saint-Bavon was in breach of his earlier treaty with Adolf, whereby neither party was to negotiate a peace or truce separate from the other.172 Not that Adolf’s behavior is above reproach. He failed in his obligations to Edward, the Count of Bar and the league of Franche-Comté. Moreover, he used the English subsidies that did reach him to purchase the lands of Albrecht “the Degenerate,” Landgrave of Thuringia. These were joined to other territories to create a substantial power base for Adolf in the middle of Germany.173 Two bloody campaigns against the people of Thuringia followed, again paid for with English money.174 This was all to Adolf’s advantage, but hardly in the spirit of the alliance with Edward. The subsidies were supposed to help the German king fund an army to lead against the French, not destroy his enemies at home. Aftermath The immediate result of the war in 1297 was complex. Neither side had gained everything they desired. From a French perspective, Philip succeeded in removing Edward and his army from Flanders. The price of this advantage was a lengthy truce that prevented an almost certain French victory in Gascony, and left Edward free to move against Philip’s allies in Scotland. It also prevented, for the moment, the final French conquest of Flanders. Philip’s attitude towards his Scottish allies is revealed by talks held at Provins in the diocese of Sens between 6-15 June 1298, a few weeks before the Battle of Falkirk. Here, King Edward’s envoys agreed to another truce, this time proposed by the king of France, and an exchange of prisoners.175 Thus, even as Edward’s army hunted William Wallace in Galloway (Falkirk was fought on 22 July), the French showed no desire to come to the aid of the beleaguered Scots. In June 1298 both sides submitted their claims to Gascony to the pope, Boniface VIII. Philip brought against his vassal, Edward, a charge of treason for having waged open war against him, his liege lord. As a result, he demanded Gascony, his vassal’s fief, as a forfeit. The English lawyers responded that Gascony had always been held of the French crown as allod (freehold), not a fief, and that Philip had failed to uphold his side of the feudal contract, as set out by the Treaty of Paris. Therefore, he had forfeited his lordship.176 Count Guy’s three sons, Robert de Béthune, Jean de Namur, and Philippe de Thiette, were also at Rome to argue their father’s case before the Curia. Their Prestwich, Edward I and Adolf of Nassau, pp. 132–33. Abulafia, The New Cambridge Medieval History, p. 398. 174 Bayard Taylor, A History of Germany (New York, 1897), p. 182. 175 Calendar of Documents Relating to Scotland, 1272–1307, ed. Joseph Bain, vol. 2 (Edinburgh, 1884), pp. 252–54. 176 H. Rothwell, “Edward I’s Case against Philip the Fair over Gascony in 1298,” The English Historical Review 42 (1927), p. 575. 172 173

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father wrote a letter to his sons, warning them what to expect, stating, “You should know that the Roman court is very grasping, and that anyone who wants to do business there must make many gifts and promises and pledges.”177 Boniface initially welcomed the Flemish, but soon made it clear he did not favor them. On 11 June they asked for their rights under the Treaty of Tournai to be respected, and for their sister, Philippa, be sent back to Flanders so her long-delayed marriage to Edward of Caernarfon could take place. Boniface merely replied they should leave the whole matter in his hands. Guy’s sons asked for a day’s grace and met with the English envoys the next morning at their lodgings. They received a brusque response: The king of France already occupied much of Flanders, and King Edward had enough to do in England, Scotland and Gascony. He could offer no more aid. The English would never willingly return to Flanders. Finally, they owed no money to Count Guy, as the treaty specified this was only due in time of war, not truce. Therefore, it was better for the Flemish to agree to the pope’s suggestion, since it would be even worse to turn it down.178 The English did not entirely withhold assistance. On 25 June Guy’s sons had another audience with the pope, this time in the company of Edward’s diplomats. They described what followed in a letter written to their father: Then, turning to the plenipotentiaries of the King of England, one of the Count’s representatives added: “We pray you that you speak with the Holy Father, as we do not wish to renounce our alliance between your master the king and our lord the Count of Flanders, nor have we ever given you licence to make peace without us.” Then the archbishop of Dublin addressed the pope: “Sir, we pray you to make our peace along with the peace with the Count of Flanders.” These words were repeated by the other English envoys. But Boniface VIII became angry and answered sharply that he would not abandon bringing his intentions to a good conclusion solely for the Count of Flanders, and that, moreover, if the count regretted entrusting his affairs to him, then he would release him from his oath.179

This reveals the English tried to have Count Guy included in the final peace between England and France, but their appeal was rejected by the pope. Since Edward’s diplomats presumably acted in the knowledge their master would approve, this can also be taken as a reflection of the king’s attitude. Indeed, on 24 January, at Ghent, Edward had given full power to Hotham and his envoys to negotiate and affirm an armistice between himself and King Philip, and their respective allies and subjects.180 Boniface, however, was not prepared to risk anything for the sake of Flanders alone. Joseph-Bruno-Marie-Constantin Kervyn de Lettenhove, Etudes sur l’histoire du xiii siècle (Brussels 1854), p. 31. 178 Ibid., pp. 41–43. 179 Funck-Brentano, Philippe le Bel, p. 293; Lettenhove, Etudes, pp. 48–49. Translation by Richard Price. 180 Chaplais, English Medieval Diplomatic Practice (Oxford, 1982), 1:148–49. 177



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The final conference took place on 30 June. Here the English at first declined to accept the pope as arbiter, except with the consent of the counts of Flanders and Berry and certain Burgundian nobles. This was meant to uphold Edward’s composition with Count Guy. As agreed beforehand, Guy’s sons declared they would accept the pope’s authority, which released the English from their obligation.181 Boniface presided over the case as Benedict Gaetano, the name he went under before his ascent to the throne of St Peter. Philip had previously informed the pope’s envoys that he acknowledged no superior in the government of his realm and would submit to no living man in temporal affairs. He absolutely declined to accept the pope as arbiter, but was willing to permit him as a private individual to broker peace between France and England.182 The pope’s judgment, published the same day, satisfied neither the English nor the French. Boniface wished for a perpetual peace, sealed by the marriage of Philip’s sister Margaret to King Edward, and his daughter Isabella to Edward’s heir, Edward of Caernarfon. This meant the annulment of the previous contract to marry the English prince to one of Guy’s daughters. Both parties would pay war damages. The crucial issue of Gascony was left undecided. Instead, Edward would remain in possession of those parts of the duchy he already held, “on terms to be fixed by the pope, so that no new right shall accrue to either party.”183 This was so displeasing to the French that one of Philip’s barons seized the award, tore it to bits and trampled it.184 The Flemish had even less cause for celebration. Boniface reluctantly included them in the award, but only in a short additional clause that extended the time limits of Count Guy’s appeal.185 On the same day Robert of Béthune and his brothers met again with the English, in which they denied uttering harsh words against the Count of Savoy, one of Edward’s envoys. They did not, they said, wish to do anything to endanger the alliance between England and Flanders. It appears they blamed Savoy for not arguing their case to Boniface with sufficient zeal.186 In reality the alliance was a dead letter. Edward’s envoys had persuaded Boniface not to cut Guy adrift completely, but no more than that. Guy himself was under no illusions. He sent a desperate letter to Edward, describing the dangers that faced him and imploring the king to have pity. Edward sent only vague responses, and it was clear Guy could expect no more help from that quarter.187 Or, for that matter, anywhere else. Guy made any sacrifice to procure support and renounced to the Count of Holland the territory of Zeeland. He Calendar of Papal Registers Relating to Great Britain and Ireland, 1198–1304 (London, 1893), 1:579. 182 M. C. MacInerny, A History of the Irish Dominicans from Original Sources and Unpublished Records, Irish Dominican Bishops (1224–1307) (Cork, 1916), 1:467. 183 Calendar of Papal Registers, I, p. 579. 184 Rothwell, “Edward’s Case against Philip the Fair in Gascony in 1298,” p. 575. 185 Lettenhove, Etudes, p. 50. 186 Ibid., p. 49. 187 Ibid., p. 56. 181

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also appeared in person at the coronation of Duke Albert of Austria as King of Germany. Neither of these measures worked: The Count of Holland died young in 1299, and Albert made an alliance with King Philip. Within Flanders, the pro-French elements refused to support Guy, and the patricians of Douai actually called upon Philip’s support.188 Edward’s diplomats moved on. In May 1299 the English and French envoys met again to hammer out peace terms at Montreuil. Shortly after the deliberations were concluded on 19 June, the Court of Appeals in Paris decided in favor of Edward’s claim to Ponthieu. The comté was handed back to the English after French administrators had spent five years harvesting its revenues.189 Philip’s decision to permit Anglo-French talks to take place at Montreuil, which lay inside the borders of Ponthieu, represented another concession to English interests. Such meetings were usually held in Paris.190 Edward had not broken off contact with the Flemings. On December 1 he replied to Robert of Béthune, assuring him the pope had extended the AngloFrench truce for one year. The king informed Robert that he was grieved to hear the truce was badly kept in Flanders. It was a matter for the pope to deal with, but Edward would gladly do what he could, if Robert thought a request from the king might be helpful.191 In August 1300 Boniface privately assured the king’s envoys he favored their argument for Gascony, and that Philip was guilty of “wrongful detention” of the land. Yet he could not give the English an award, since the French would simply ignore his decision. Nor could they be compelled to surrender Gascony. The pope claimed to have exerted all the pressure at his disposal, by excommunicating Philip for levying taxes on the clergy, and on French prelates for granting them.192 The key point, with regard to these negotiations, is that Edward had only retained part of Gascony due to his presence in Flanders in 1297. Otherwise, he would have had nothing to bargain with. This was especially important given Philip’s subsequent refusal to hand over his share of Gascony to the pope. He was probably influenced by Boniface’s desire for a return to the pre-war status quo, which would have required Philip to restore the duchy to Edward.193 Philip was struggling to control Bordeaux, chief city of Gascony and center of the wine trade. He adopted increasingly draconian measures to suppress local resistance. 165 leading citizens were taken hostage and imprisoned in poor conditions; 29 of them died in captivity.194 In November 1297 the mayor and jurats

Pirenne, Histoire de Belgique, 1:379–80. Francois-César Louandre, Histoire d’Abbeville et du comté de Ponthieu jusqu’en 1789 (Paris, 1844–1845), 1:211. 190 Vale, Origins, pp. 72–72. 191 Chaplais, English Medieval Diplomatic Practice, 1:10–11. 192 Black, Edward I and Gascony in 1300, p. 521. 193 Tout, History of England, p. 211. 194 Vale, Origins, p. 221. 188

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threatened to rise in arms unless their kinsmen were released from prison, and in January 1300 Philip took more hostages, accompanied by a warning against future misconduct.195 112 Bordelais nobles chose to quit the city in disgust and go into exile in England.196 Bordeaux’s commerce fell into a state of crisis as Anglo-Gascon ships blocked the Gironde and wine exports to London fell dramatically.197 Thanks to the armistice, Philip could take no action against the remaining ducal enclaves. He fared much better in Flanders. When the armistice expired, on 6 January 1300, the Flemish were overrun. First the town of Douai surrendered to Philip’s forces, and then Charles of Valois captured Damme and most of the other towns along the Zwin river. The surrender of the last two strongholds, Ghent and Ypres, marked the effective conquest of Flanders. Count Guy, his son Robert of Béthune and over a hundred Flemish noblemen surrendered and were imprisoned in French castles.198 Despite his victory in Flanders, how much longer Philip could have held onto Gascony is a moot point. Eventually his hand was forced. In 1301 the commoners and guildsmen of Bruges revolted against the French occupation. The response of the Count of Saint-Pol was disproportionate, and in May 1302 the French garrison was driven out. Open war erupted again in Flanders, and Philip sent an army to restore order. On 11 July the French suffered a shock defeat at Courtrai, called the Battle of the Golden Spurs. The battle was won by the urban militia of Flanders, and a stunning victory for common foot soldiers over mounted knights.199 Edward made the most of this unexpected turn of events. In August he appointed John de Hastings his lieutenant and seneschal of Gascony. Hastings arrived in the duchy on 30 November, and immediately entered into secret talks with pro-English elements in Bordeaux. The ringleader of these was one Arnaud Caillau, who in January 1303 led a popular uprising against the French. By 15 January the French garrison had been ejected and Arnaud installed as mayor. Edward continued to press his advantage. In March he hired ships to convey the 112 Bordelais exiles and their companies back to their city.200 They brought retinues ranging from a handful of men to fifty or more, so the army that landed at Bordeaux in March 1303 was quite a considerable one.201

Ibid. Ibid., p. 218. 197 Ibid., p. 222; M. K. James, “Fluctuations of the Anglo-Gascon Wine Trade in the Fourteenth Century,” Economic History Review 4 no. 2 (1951), pp. 170–82; Renouard, “Le grand commerce des vins de Gascogne,” Revue Historique 221 no. 2 (1959) pp. 284, 288. 198 Verbruggen, The Battle of the Golden Spurs, pp. 18–19. 199 Verbruggen, The Battle of the Golden Spurs, pp. 21–26; Prestwich, Edward I, p. 397. 200 Kew, London, The National Archives, MS. E 101/10/23, Payments Made by John of Cockermouth to Gascons Being Conveyed from Portsmouth to Gascony, March 1303. 201 Kew, London, The National Archives, MS. E 101/160/4, m.1, Part of an account of the seneschal of Aquitaine. Pons de Castillon brought two knights and twelve esquires; 195

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After the loss of Bordeaux, Philip realized the French position in the duchy was untenable. It was also vital for him to ensure the Flemings did not receive English aid, so a final peace was negotiated. In May 1303 a treaty was agreed in Paris, and Gascony handed back entire to the king of England. Nine years of strenuous warfare and diplomacy had resulted in a return to the pre-war position. Even in his moment of triumph, Edward was not minded to renew the Flemish alliance. On 25 March he dined with Flemish envoys, including Jean de Namur, at Ogerston. The king informed them that no further alliance on equal terms could be concluded between England and Flanders, since there was so much disparity between their respective strengths and their positions vis-à-vis the king of France.202 In any case, Edward had empowered his envoys to affirm the treaty of alliance with the French on the 22nd, just three days earlier.203 The overall cost of Edward’s wars in Flanders and Gascony was in the region of £750,000.204 Almost 60% of his war expenditure between 1294–1299 was spent on wages to Gascon troops, while another 10% went to English troops.205 When these huge sums are combined with Edward’s military expenditure in Scotland, it is little wonder he had nothing more to spare for Flanders. For instance, out of a total wardrobe expenditure of £64,000 for the year 1300, two-thirds were spent on the prosecution of the war in Scotland.206 To put the figure into context, this was almost twice the total expenditure of £23,000 on Edward’s war in Wales in 1276–1277.207 Budgetary constraints alone might have influenced Edward’s attitude towards the Flemings after 1297. This was the implication of the statement made by his envoys to Count Guy’s sons at the Curia. Philip also had to spend very large sums on the war, and unlike Edward was unable to fall back on a tradition of taxation. In 1295 he debased the French currency, which brought short-term profits but long-term problems. In the latter years of Philip’s reign his policy of debasement caused widespread revolts in France.208 Conclusion Edward’s “grand alliance” hardly justified the vast financial outlay, though it wasn’t completely ineffectual. He got good service from the Count of Bar and the sire de Blâmont, who twice went into action on his behalf. The barons of Bernard Trencaléon brought 23 esquires and thirty sergeants, Auger de Pouilllon thirty-four foot-sergeants (etc). 202 Chaplais, English Medieval Diplomatic Practice, 1:116–18. 203 Chaplais, English Medieval Diplomatic Practice, 2:497–98. 204 Ibid., p. 400. 205 Vale, Origins, p. 206. 206 Fiona Watson, “Edward I in Scotland,” (Unpublished PhD. thesis, University of Glasgow, 1991), pp. 150–58. 207 Prestwich, Edward I, p. 182. 208 Peter Spufford, Money and its Use in Medieval Europe (Cambridge, 1993, repr. 1988), pp. 302–03.



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Franche-Comté caused the French a deal of trouble in Burgundy and continued the fight even after Edward’s return to England. At least two of the lesser German princes on his payroll fought in Flanders. In light of the above, it is incorrect to state that Edward’s diplomatic preparations “brought no military assistance from his hoped-for allies.”209 Unfortunately none of the king’s other allies went into action. An important figure was the Count of Hainault, who prevented the armies of Holland and Brabant from joining Edward. Any hopes of victory were finally dashed by the non-appearance of Adolf of Nassau. Edward has been criticized for “incompetent military planning” in Flanders.210 Yet, unlike his earlier scheme for the reconquest of Gascony, there is no direct information for the king’s plans. He probably intended to join with the combined German and Flemish army but was unable to sail in time before it was defeated at Veurne. This must have severely disrupted any plans the king had in mind. Afterwards he remained at Ghent, waiting for Adolf and the duke of Brabant. The king did not, however, keep his army entirely static behind a defensive fosse. English and Welsh troops were dispatched to assist Robert de Béthune in the sack of Damme, and Welsh infantry accompanied the Count of Bar on raids into French territory. When it became clear his German allies were not going to arrive, he switched to a realistic policy of arbitration backed up by reinforcements from England. Edward also benefited from the actions of the Earl of Lincoln, his capitaneus in Gascony, whose ravaging of the Toulousaine applied more pressure to the French. The contemporary opinion of the Flemings on Edward is perhaps best summarized by the Minorite, who described the king’s death in 1307 as “the just judgement of God.”211 Such harsh statements do not (understandably) take into account Edward’s circumstances. His efforts to get to Flanders in 1297 have been described as “frenzied”212 and “almost superhuman,”213 but this wasn’t his only military option. As we have seen, the Earl of Norfolk had refused to serve in Gascony except under the king’s personal command. Norfolk declared he was quite willing to go to Gascony with the king and march before his face in the first line of battle, as was his hereditary right.214 Therefore Edward might have chosen to abjure his oath to Count Guy in February, and sail to Gascony with a larger army than the one he took to Flanders. For Edward to let slip such an opportunity, along with his evident resolution to sail to Flanders, can only mean he was initially determined to uphold his oath to Guy. The details of the negotiations at Rome after the campaign reveal Edward’s changed attitude. He would not offer any further material assistance, since 209 Bryce

Lyon, “The Failed Flemish Campaign,” p. 42. Ibid., p. 31 211 Annals of Ghent, p. 85. 212 Prestwich, Documents Illustrating the Crisis, p. 26. 213 Geoffrey Barraclough, “Edward I and Adolf of Nassau: A Chapter of Medieval Diplomatic History,” The Cambridge Historical Journal 6 (1940), p. 242. 214 Prestwich, Edward I, p. 416; Walter of Guisborough, Chronicle, pp. 289–90. 210

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he had none to spare. The wars in Gascony and Scotland were devouring his resources. His envoys did, however, attempt to include Flanders in the peace between England and France. This was in line with the terms of the Tournai armistice, which Edward may have hoped to prolong. When the pope rejected this appeal, there was nothing more to be done. Peace with France, and good relations with the papacy, were more important. Edward gained two advantages from his difficult sojourn in Flanders. At great risk and expense, he retained a portion of Gascony and the freedom to pursue his interests in Scotland. The former gave him a vital stake in the tortuous negotiations that followed, which resulted in a marriage alliance with France and the recovery of Ponthieu. It is possible the English would have recovered Gascony eventually, given the rising tide of local discontent at French occupation and Anglo-Gascon command of the seas. Yet the standoff might have continued for years; in the end, Edward owed a debt of gratitude to the Flemish triumph at Courtrai. He certainly exploited it. It has been asked why, since the grand alliance against France in 1297 was such a failure, did the English adopt a very similar strategy in 1337?215 The answer may be that Edward III and his advisers saw the potential of it, and thought they could avoid the pitfalls. They may have also taken a different view of the Flanders campaign than many recent commentators. Edward did not triumph in 1297, but nor was he defeated. The outcome was crucial to his recovery of England’s overseas possessions. In spite of all his problems and setbacks, Edward did enough to persuade his grandson of the potential of another grand alliance.

215

Prestwich, Edward I and Adolf of Nassau, p. 135.

Appendix: Excerpts from Lodewyk van Velthem, Spiegel Historiaal, of Rym-Spiegel216 Chapter 2: How King Edward of England Came to Flanders 80 85 90 95 100 105 110 216

In those times, it is known, came to Flanders Edward, who was king in England. He brought Welshmen with him, as I have read, on that day, with a great number of English, [and] came to the city of Ghent, where the Count of Flanders was on that day with many knights. The duke of Brabant was also there with many men, it is known, from his land, and also with many men from the lands of the Meuse, many a lord, and several also from the Rhine lands had come there as it appears. Wondrous clothes were worn by the Welsh: they walked with bare legs usually with a red tunic; also in the middle of winter, I am sure that not very well warm were the men thus clothed. The money that their king gave them was almost entirely spent on buttermilk, I understand; they ate and drank wherever they wanted. Of weapons it was not known what they carried Nevertheless I observed them for long enough, and walked among them there, in order to know about them. They armed themselves only when they fought an enemy with bows, arrows and swords (these were all crude), and a spear and linen cloth. These were the only clothes that they had to wear. They drank very voraciously.

My thanks to an anonymous scholar for the base translation of this text, and to Kelly DeVries for his input.

114 115 120 125 130 135 140

David Pilling They only stayed in Sint Pietersdorp [a part of Ghent] surely. They did not get along with the Flemings, as it seemed; as they considered their wages too low, they sometimes took things that did not belong to them. At that time there was in France a man who gave council – my lord Godfried, uncle of the duke – to King Philip of France. Other lords also were there, and gave counsel how best to wage this war. Their counsel was thus that it seemed them best that they allow them [the English army] to stay there [in Ghent] until well into the summer: then they would have used up their money and would therefore have to leave. “And we shall continuously act as if we would be going out, and make clamor and noise; this would keep them all together.” This is more or less how it happened. They stayed in Ghent with their army, remaining there all winter, and they spent so much money that the army became demoralized. This thinned their ranks. Chapter 4: How the Duke of Brabant Became a Knight, and the King Came to Brussels.

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In these times, says the history, was a large feast in Ghent. There was undoubtedly a big banquet for the great lords. The king of England held a banquet at [the monastery of] St Bavo, with much joy, which was attended by many people. Earlier he had knighted the duke [of Brabant], and also others about whom I am silent now. After this feast was held

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the count [of Flanders] held a feast, that also was magnificent and grand. Many a noble came there, and the duke was there as well. Thus these three rich lords held large feasts with food and entertainment. but the king’s feast was by far larger than any of the others. After these were done, not long afterwards, the king travelled to Brabant, to visit his daughter [Margaret, the wife of the duke] and also the country. He came in Brussels with much honor. There the lords received him well. He closely inspected the town and there enjoyed himself. There were certainly many counts, who were all vassals of the duke; the king marvelled very much that so many lords held their lands from him. About this the king was pleased, because he had not thought previously that Brabant was half so large. Not long afterwards the king decided to travel back to Flanders, where his men stayed unprotected. They were now much feared by the inhabitants of the city, surely because they wanted to take their belongings, and their food and drink they wanted illegally to take, and they ate without paying, and threatened to kill them [the Ghentenaars] there. After that, they wanted to lay with their wives or with their daughters, and if they were to refuse, they were threatened and even hit. Because of this there was much suffering and resentment on both sides, and because of this they wanted to fight and brawl. This, and also other things, made the city very upset. And there this did not diminish, but the longer this went on the more they were aggrieved

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David Pilling in many places there. These men became troubled at this so that they would gladly have fought, and would have if the count allowed it. Thus it remained for a long time in this state, and only afterwards was revenged. Chapter 5: How the King of England Had to Leave Ghent

310 When this had gone on for a while, came together as one, without a doubt those of the city of Ghent and wanted to take the risk and started to hunt the Welsh 315 and the English, who feared them when they began to hear about this. For the Flemings were so mad at them, that they could hardly escape. Nevertheless, they stayed there, without a doubt. 320 And if the count had not stopped it, they would have been more troubled. Yes, the king, it should be known, was himself worried sick that he would not live longer. 325 When he saw what they were willing to dare, those of Ghent, he thought that he was in grave danger, and he begged [his leave] and left the city with his men. But before 330 that could be done, all his men were inspected and interrogated and searched, before they through the gates could leave, if they any thing 335 had been taken by any of them in the city or had caused damage. Thus they left in fear. [Lines 338–58: General observation that when a man is oppressed by another, in time he will stand up to his oppressor, who in turn will lose his bravery and be forced to ask for peace.] This was what happened, as we hear, 360 to the Welsh and also the English against those of the city of Ghent. For at first they were brave and caused much evil, and afterwards, when they stood against them,



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365 the Ghentenaars, they were found as I have said, like that man [in ll. 338-358]. The king departed hastily to England, with his men.

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6 The Earliest European Recipes for “Powder for Guns” (1336 and 1338–c. 1350) Clifford J. Rogers and Fabrizio Ansani

Only a few fourteenth-century recipes for gunpowder proper (for use in shooting projectiles from guns) are known. They can be difficult to interpret, partly because their rarity hinders comparisons between texts in order to clarify ambiguous directions. This article presents and discusses the earliest known recipe, from Friuli and dated 1336, in comparison to what was previously the earliest widely-known formulation: the Augsburg recipe of 1338–c. 1350. The German text (translated into English here for the first time) provides context for the Italian recipe, and the latter, in turn, in combination with laboratory testing, settles a disputed reading of the German formula. In two articles in the previous volume of this journal, Clifford J. Rogers and Trevor Russell Smith offered new transcriptions and translations of several nearly unknown gunpowder recipes from the last hundred years of the Middle Ages.1 Rogers noted that there were very few complete recipes for gunpowder proper (that is, for mixtures specifically intended to propel projectiles from guns) that could be reliably dated to the first fifty years of the history of cannon in Europe (1326–1375). In fact, since the recipes in the Munich copy of the Büchsenmeisterbuch (MS. Cgm 600) probably date to around 1400 (rather than c. 1350, as once thought),2 and since the French “recipes” of c. 1338, 1345, and 1350 are actually purchase records rather than instructions for manufacture, and moreover do not specify the proportion of charcoal to be used,3 that left only one such recipe known to scholars of early artillery: one from Augsburg, composed not long after 1337. That one recipe, moreover, is sufficiently ambiguous that 1

2

3

Trevor Russell Smith, “The Earliest Middle English Recipes for Gunpowder,” JMMH 18 (2020), 183–92; Clifford J. Rogers, “Four Misunderstood Gunpowder Recipes of the Fourteenth Century,” JMMH 18 (2020), 173–82. Rogers, “Four Misunderstood Gunpowder Recipes,” pp. 174–75, n. 8; per Karin Schneider and Erich Petzet, Die deutschen Handscriften der Bayerischen Staatsbibliothek München (Wiesbaden, 1978), p. 227, the watermark suggests the manuscript may have been copied 1415–18, though the composition of the texts must be before 1411, when the Österreichische Nationalbiliothek version (MS. Cpv 3069) was inscribed. Below, notes 14–16.

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different scholars have read it in two different ways, leaving the earliest history of cannon-powder very unclear. It is now possible to expand the roster from one to two, adding an even earlier formulation: one written down in northern Italy in 1336. Comparison to this earlier recipe, in combination with laboratory testing, makes clear which reading of the German recipe is correct. The combination of the two recipes, correctly interpreted, gives us a good picture of the earliest cannon-powders, which were by modern standards low in saltpeter and high in sulfur. The Augsburg recipe was recorded between 1338 and, tentatively, c. 1350, and is now found in the Bayerische Staatsbibliothek (MS. Clm 4350).4 Not only is this recipe explicitly for use in shooting a gun [phuhs], it also has the value of being specific about the method of incorporation rather than just the proportion of the ingredients. Although it has been published several times with minor variations in orthography, it has never been translated into English. That is worth doing here, both to make it available to scholars who do not read German, and also to clarify the meaning of a part of the text that has misled even a native German speaker: Item. This is the powder with which one shoots out of a gun. One should take two parts linden or goat-willow charcoal and two parts saltpeter. And then the fifth part [daz fumftail], one should take sulfur vivum–that is, pure sulfur. And to that one should also add a tenth-part [den zehenden tail] of firnis glaz [varnish or colophonium]; and it should be dried, and ground together in a mortar into a fine powder. And when it is put in the gun, some should be put in the hole where the firing-iron is put into the gun, and pour in a drop of quicksilver there.5 4

5

Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek [BSB], Handschrift Clm 4350, fo. 31v. The recipe was inserted into a blank space in a theological manuscript composed in the Benedictine monastery of St. Ulrich in Augsburg no earlier than 1338 (since that year is mentioned within), and has generally been interpreted as dating to shortly thereafter, e.g. by Max Jähns, Geschichte der Kriegswissenschaften, vornemlich in Deutschland, pt. 1 (Munich, 1889), p. 229, and Wilfried Tittmann, “‘Büchsenwerk’ – die Kunst, aus Büchsen zu schieβen. Mit einer Entgegnung auf Klaus Leibnitz,” Waffen- und Kostümkunde 42 (2000), p. 167. The terminus ante quem, however, is not obvious from the manuscript itself: there is no reason the recipe could not have been added substantially later than the inscription of the main text. The hand, indeed, does appear to be a somewhat later one: probably still from the fourteenth century (Major Toll, “Eine Handschrift über Artillerie aus dem 14. Jahrhundert,” Archiv für die Offiziere der königlich Preuβischen Artillerie- und Ingenieur-korps 60 [1866], p. 160n), though perhaps not “offenbar kaum jüngeren” than the main hand (as claimed by Jähns, Geschichte, p. 229). In any case, the similarity of the recipe’s proportions to the 1336 text discussed below makes it reasonable to accept the dating “etwa auf das Jahr 1350” given by Wilhelm Beck, “Bayerns Heerwesen und Mobilmachung im 15. Jahrhundert,” Archivalische Zeitschrift, neue Folge 18 (1911), p. 116. BSB Clm 4350, fo. 31v: “Item daz ist daz pulver, damit man aus der phůhss schiust: da sol man nemen zů zwaytail lindains oder saelwaerains kols und zwaitail sal petre, und denn daz fumftail sol man nemen sulfur vivum oder rehten swewel und dar zů sol man auch nemen firnis glaz den zehenden tail; und daz sol man alz durr machun, und sol ez under ain ander stozzen ze klainem pulver in ainem morsaer, und swenn man ez in die půhss tůt, so sol man datz dem loch, das man den sluzzel in diu puhss trůcht, hin ain zů dem pulver



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The use of a drop of mercury, incidentally, can tentatively be explained as follows. Practical testing has shown that it can be difficult to achieve the initial ignition of a tamped-down dry-mixed powder charge, even with use of priming powder in the touchhole. Contact with a red-hot firing-iron would cause the mercury to boil into gaseous form, moving away from the iron and, under pressure, into the gunpowder, where it would come into contact with particles of elemental sulfur. When mercury and sulfur interact, they form mercury sulfide (HgS) in a highly exothermic reaction. For ignition of gunpowder to take place, at least one of its components – sulfur – “must melt and flow to achieve close molecular contact with another component [saltpeter],” requiring temperatures over 115 ℃. At high pressure (e.g. in the powder chamber as ignition gets under way), the melting of sulfur may possibly be sufficient to continue the reaction, but at low pressure (e.g. in the touchhole) it seems that it is necessary also to melt the saltpeter, at the much higher temperature of 300–50 ℃. The heat released by the formation of mercury sulfide thus could contribute to bringing more sulfur and saltpeter particles to their melting points, helping to initiate the molecular-level intermingling that is necessary to begin the chain reaction (involving sprays of hot salts containing K2SO4) that leads to explosion. Although the amount of mercury involved is small, it is possible that its effect, coming at the beginning of a geometric propagation, might be significant. But the chemistry of such a reaction would be complex and is not well understood, so it is also quite possible that it would have no substantial effect.6 On the one hand, the fact that this practice is not mentioned in later documents suggests it was not especially important; on the other, some later recipes do incorporate some mercury into the powder.7

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giezzen ainen tropphen koksilwers.” For five slightly different transcriptions of the text, see Toll, “Eine Handschrift über Artillerie,” pp. 160–61; Jähns, Geschichte, p. 228; Beck, “Bayerns Heerwesen und Mobilmachung im 15. Jahrhundert,” pp. 116–17; J. R. Partington, A History of Greek Fire and Gunpowder (1960; repr. with new introduction, Baltimore, 1999), p. 152; Tittmann, “Büchsenwerk,” p. 167. Thanks to Prof. Dawn Riegner and Dr. Tessy Ritchie for discussing Prof. Rogers’ hypothesis about the possible value of mercury here; they however do not necessarily endorse the idea. For the role of melting sulfur and saltpeter and the chain reaction that begins with the exothermic reaction 2 KNO3 + S –> K2SO4 + 2 NO, see Prof. F. A. Williams, in “Observations on Burning and Flame-Spread of Black Powder,” AIAA Journal 14, no. 5 (1976), pp. 637–43, drawing on the earlier work of J. D. Blackwood and F. P. Bowden. Tittmann, “Büchsenwerk,” p. 167, explains the drop of mercury in terms of sealing the touchhole against the escape of gasses, but there would be no gasses to escape until the reaction began, which would be after the firing-iron was applied and vaporized the mercury. Including the “fortissimi” recipe in Bellifortis (1405), and the “Allerbest” in the BSB Feuerwkerbuch (1429). Conrad Kyeser, Conrad Kyeser aus Eichstätt Bellifortis, ed. Götz Quarg, 2 vols. (Düsseldorf, 1967), 2:76, 82; BSB Cgm 4902, fo. 11. Mercury was also purchased for incorporation in to gunpowder at Lille in 1368, for example: de la Fons-Mélicocq, Artillerie de la ville de Lille, p. 10. Even if powder considered the “strongest of all” or “best of all” contained mercury, it would not be surprising that most recipes omitted it, because it was hard to come by; the gunners advising Gaston Phoebus of Béarn about purchase of ingredients in 1389 said it could not well be found anywhere closer than

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Returning to the gunpowder itself: although this recipe has frequently been printed, it has not been explained in much depth, and its basic meaning is in some doubt. Almost 150 years ago, Gustav Köhler interpreted it in the same way as we do: as calling for a saltpeter:sulfur:charcoal of 2:1:2.8 However, one expert on early gunpowder chemistry, Wilfried Tittmann, has recently given a different interpretation, reading daz fumftail as “a fifth-part” rather than “the fifth part,” which makes the recipe’s saltpeter:sulfur:charcoal ratio very different, at 2:0.2:2, or 10:1:10.9 This is unlikely, because a 10:1:10 (=47.6%/4.76%/47.6%) ratio is quite out of line with any other medieval (or modern) gunpowder recipe or record of purchase of ingredients “to make powder,” and is also improbable from the perspective of practical chemistry. A sulfur content of 4.76% is less than half the proportion of modern gunpowder, but with one exception all other known recipes from 1336–1449 are at least as high in sulfur content as the modern mixture (10%). Indeed, nearly all are much higher in sulfur than modern gunpowder: in the 14.3%–28.6% range, up to as high as 39.1%.10 Therefore the very low sulfur content of the proposed 2:0.2:2 recipe would be unlikely. But that conclusion cannot be reached with full confidence just based on the low sulfur content, because of the one exception to the high-sulfur rule already mentioned. The Rothenburg recipe of c. 1377–1380 calls for only 4.8% sulfur content, almost the same as the proposed 2:0.2:2 mix, and powder identical to the Rothenburg mix was found in eighteenth-­century testing to be quite powerful.11 The Rothenburg mixture, however, is high in saltpeter, with practically the same proportion as modern gunpowder (76.2% vs. 75%). High saltpeter content, up to that level, was understood by master gunners of the early fifteenth century to make powder more powerful.12 By contrast, the proposed 2:0.2:2 mixture would be a little on the low side in saltpeter (47.6%) and very low in sulfur (4.8%), because it would be so high in charcoal (47.6%) – higher than any known recipe.13

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Barcelona: “non troberatz de bono sino a Barsalone.” Archives historiques du département de la Gironde, vol. 12 (Paris, 1870), p. 280. Partington assumes that mercury would be “useless.” History of Greek Fire and Gunpowder, pp. 149, 152. Gustav Köhler, Die Entwickelung des Kriegswesens und der Kriegführung in der Ritterzeit, 3 vols. in 5 (Breslau, 1886–1887), vol. 3, pt. 1, p. 255. Tittmann, “Büchsenwerk,” pp. 167–68. The lowest is one of several recipes in Conrad Kyeser’s 1405 Bellifortis, an 8:1:1 mix; the others in the same text have 16.7–18.2% sulfur. The highest, 39.1%, is one of the Mirfield mixtures, c. 1380–95. Conrad Kyeser, Conrad Kyeser aus Eichstätt Bellifortis, ed. Götz Quarg, 2 vols. (Düsseldorf, 1967), 2:82; Rogers, “Four Misunderstood Gunpowder Recipes,” p. 179. Rogers, “Four Misunderstood Gunpowder Recipes,” p. 178. In the Feuerwerkbuch, the “common,” “better,” and “still better” powders have increasingly higher proportions of saltpeter (rising from 57.1% to 62.5% to 66.7%); one late manuscript adds a “good, strong” powder with 68.4% saltpeter, but comments that adding more saltpeter for the same amount of charcoal and sulfur “would not be good.” Leeds, Royal Armouries, MS. I–34, fos. xxxxvii v.–xxxxviii r. A 2:0.2:2 ratio has 47.6% charcoal. A 2:1:2 has 40%, which is still very high. Among other



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Moreover, the high saltpeter:sulfur ratio of a 2:0.2:2 recipe would be anomalous not just in comparison to other medieval recipes, but also with reference to the partial recipes reflected in chronologically proximate purchases of gunpowder ingredients – which usually include only sulfur and saltpeter, because charcoal could be made rather than purchased, or if purchased in the relevant quantities was of too little value to bother recording. A French receipt of July 1338 describes a gun provided with quarrels, and with two pounds of saltpeter and one pound of sulfur “to make powder to shoot the said quarrels.”14 An Occitan document of 1345 notes purchases of saltpeter and sulfur in the ratio of just under 1.5:1 “to make powder to fire the cannons.”15 And the accounts of Lille in 1350 note an expenditure for five pounds of saltpeter and two pounds of live sulfur, again for quarrel-firing cannons.16 In a group including 2:1, 1.5:1, and 2.5:1 ratios, another instance of 2:1 would be perfectly average (mean, median, and mode), while a 10:1 ratio would be a very extreme outlier. Recent laboratory experiments conducted at the United States Military Academy add additional points of data that in combination with what has already been presented should suffice to lay the matter to rest. Tests using a differential scanning calorimeter [DSC] indicate that a 2:1:2 gunpowder actually can potentially provide substantially more energy per gram even than a modern 75:10:15 mix. By contrast, in the DSC test the 2:0.2:2 recipe failed to combust fully, and produced less than 20% as much energy.17 The conclusion that the author of the Augsburg recipe meant a 2:1 rather than 10:1 saltpeter:sulfur ratio would be further reinforced, if further reinforcement were needed, by the observation that the same ratio is also used in a formula of about the same time written down in Friuli, Italy. This text is securely dated to 1336, meaning it is the earliest recipe for gunpowder proper that is now known. Its existence, though not its contents, was signaled in print as early as 1862.18 A century later, two transcriptions of the recipe were published in works of local history, as a curiosity, but without analysis of the contents, or recognition of

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medieval recipes, the highest charcoal contents are 28.6% (in Mirfield’s first recipe) and 25% (in the 2:1:1 mix that is discussed below, first recorded in 1336). Napoléon III and I. Favé, Études sur le passé et l’avenir de l’artillerie, 6 vols. (Paris, 1871), 3:73 (“pour fare poudre pour traire les diz garros”). Léon Lacabane, “De la poudre à canon et de son introduction en France,” Bibliothèque de l’école des chartes, 2e ser., 1 (1844), p. 43 (“trenta sieys liuras et meja de salpetra, vint cinq de solphre viu…per far polveyras et traire los canos”). Alixandre de la Fons-Mélicocq, De l’artillerie de la ville de Lille aux XIVe, XVe et XVIe siècles: archers, arbalétriers, canonniers (Lille, 1854), pp. 8–9. Based on limited testing carried out in the laboratories of the United States Military Academy by Professors Dawn Riegner and Tessy Ritchie, Ms. Kathleen Riegner, and Lieutenant Robert Seals. Two articles are in progress to report the results of the laboratory and field tests carried out at West Point: one focusing on the historical significance of the data collected, and the other on the chemistry side of the results. Cf. Tittmann, “Büchsenwerk,” p. 168. Annali del Friuli ossia raccolta delle cose storiche appartenenti a questa regione compilati dal co. Francesco di Manzano, vol. 4 (Udine, 1862), p. 405.

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the significance of the date.19 The recipe has not been discussed in previously published work on the early history of the propellant.20 It translates as follows: Year 1336, on the 11th of September: these are the things that are used to make powder for guns. First, take saltpeter and take live sulfur and take charcoal from a young, domesticated willow; and all these components should be good and dry, and the willow should be dry before it is made into charcoal. And these things should be ground separately with a pestle, then mixed together as written below. Item, take two measures of saltpeter and one measure of live sulfur and one of charcoal and mix them together and pound them with a pestle and sift them through an open-weave cloth, as one does with flour.21

Although the proportions of this earliest-extant recipe for gunpowder proper are quite different from modern powder, it was clearly an effective mixture. That is confirmed by actual practice as well as by the lab tests noted above, since the 1336 Friulian 2:1:1 recipe remained in circulation for around a century (unlike the Augsburg 2:1:2 recipe, which is found in only one manuscript).22 A 19

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Andrea Benedetti, Storia di Pordenone, ed. Daniele Antonini (Pordenone, 1964), p. 376; A. De Riz, Paucenico, in Polcenigo. Mille anni di storia, ed. G. Fornasir (Polcenigo, 1977), pp. 50–51; and noted in Tito Miotti, Castelli del Friuli: Le giurisdizioni del Friuli orientale e la Contea di Gorizia (Colloredo di Montalbano, 1977), p. 145. Fabrizio Ansani’s rediscovery of this recipe was, however, noted in Rogers, “Four Misunderstood Gunpowder Recipes,” p. 176 n. 15. Shortly before this present article was submitted for peer review (in July 2020), we discovered that Dr. Massimo Della Giustina had also recently taken note of this recipe, and will be discussing it in an article to be published in December 2020 in Archivio Veneto. However, we have not seen his study. As printed in De Riz, Paucenico, pp. 50–51: “Anno 1336 a dì XI di setembre, queste son le cose che vol a far la polvere da sclop. In prima tor salmistre e tor solfero vivo e tor carbon de venchar mestech che sia zoven, e tute queste chosse vol esser ben seche e lo venchar vol eser seco innanzi che faza carbon, e queste cosse vol esser peste tute per se, e meterle insieme segont ch’è qui de sot scrit. Item toi do misure salnitreo e una misura de solpre vivo et una misura de charbon e mesedar insembre e pestarle e buratarle segont che se fa la farina per un burat.” As printed in Benedetti, Pordenone, p. 376: “1336, a dì XI di setembre – Queste son le chose ch’uol a far la polver de sclop. In prima tor salnitre e tor solfero vivo e tor charbon de venchar mestech che sìa zoven e tutte queste chose vol esser ben secche e lo venchar vol esser secho innanzi chel faza lo charbon, e queste chosse vol esser peste tutte per se e metterle insembre segont ch’è qui de sot scrit. Item toy do misure de salnitreo e una misura de solfre vivo e una misura de charbon a mesedar insembre e pestarle e buratarle segont che se fa la farina per un burat.” We initially thought the 2:1:1 recipe was also recorded, along with a 6:2:1 recipe, on a blank folio of a Neapolitan register volume otherwise dating to 1306–1307. This was based on the printed version of the text, I registri della cancelleria angioina, vol. 31 (1306–1307), ed. Bianca Mazzoleni (Naples, 1980), no. 154, p. 234. However, consultation of a photograph of the original manuscript folio showed that what is printed as a column of I I/I I/I does not actually seem to be a 1: ½ : ½ formulation, but rather a row of “R” symbols that seem to mean “recipe” or “require.” We conclude that this text is a single recipe (the second column) of 6:2:1, probably inscribed during the first half of the fifteenth century, since the same recipe is given in the Ambraser Sammlung text of 1405–1410



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mixture only very slightly different from the 1336 recipe, at 20:10:12, is found among the several compositions collected by the English surgeon Johannes de Mirfield, from c. 1380 to 1395.23 And the precise 2:1:1 mixture is included in texts of the late-fourteenth to mid-fifteenth centuries, though by then it is identified as less powerful than other mixtures.24 In Hans Dobringer’s Hausbuch, dated to 1389–c. 1405, it is called “common” [communis] bombard powder, by contrast with a “powerful or fast” [vehemens seu velox] powder mixed at 4:1:1.25 Another German manuscript of the mid-fifteenth century, though perhaps copying a text composed around the turn of the century, again reproduces the 2:1:1 recipe, along with and 4:1:1 and 5:1:1 mixtures. Once more the 2:1:1 mix is called merely “good common powder” [gut gemeyn pulffer], while the 5:1:1 powder is distinguished as “powerful” [krefftig].26 The most similar recipe in the later

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(Jähns, Geschichte, p. 384) and as the “noch besseres” powder of the Feuerwerkbuch, e.g. in Hassenstein, Feuerwerkbuch, p. 51, or BSB Cgm 4902, fo. 9v. Our thanks to Professors Bill Caferro and Caterina Tristano for consulting with us on this paleographical problem. Rogers, “Four Misunderstood Gunpowder Recipes,” p. 179. It was presumably considered worth including at least in part because, though less powerful, it would also have been less expensive, since saltpeter was the most expensive component and it was lower in saltpeter than the other recipes noted. Germanisches Nationalmuseum, Hs 3227a, fo. 6; Trude Ehlert and Rainer Leng, “Frühe Koch- und Pulverrezepte au der Nürnberger Handschrift GNM 3227a (um 1389),” in Dominik Groβ and Monika Reiniger, eds., Medizin in Geschichte, Philologie und Ethnologie. Festschrift für Gundolf Keil (Würzburg, 2003); for the date, see Rogers, “For Misunderstood Gunpowder Recipes,” pp. 181–82n. The so-called “Büchsenmeister- und Feuerwerkbuch der Stadt Franfurt von 1400” or “18 Frankfurter Büchsenmeisterblätter von 1400,” as named for example by Rathgen, Geschütz, p. 109, and Hassenstein, Feuerwerkbuch, p. 106, respectively, viz. Frankfurt am Main, Institut für Stadtgeschichte, Reichssachen Nachträge, Nr. 741 (at fos. 2–2v). (Our thanks to Dr. Michael Matthäus for a digital copy of the manuscript.) Despite the implication of the “von,” the manuscript is not dated; Rathgen in his text, as opposed to his title, puts it at um 1400 based on handwriting and context. It does seem fairly likely that its initial composition dates to the late fourteenth or very early fifteenth century. If the former, it may have been in some way connected to the application (cataloged as “um 1400”) of Claus Goltsmyts Sohn of Frankfurt for the apparently vacant position of Büchsenmeister, which can be dated to after 1389 because it mentions the battle of Kronberg (or Eschborn), where two of Claus’ brothers fell, according to the archive’s online catalog entry for Dienstbriefe, H.02.26, 1.540. However, as Leng notes, later in the Büchsenmeisterblätter manuscript there is a mention of “der markgrave von rotel” – the lord of Rötteln, Markgraf von Hachberg – which, according to Leng’s identification, would make the manuscript later than 1428. Leng dates it c. 1440–1450, and the hand does seem to fit better with that dating than “um 1400.” Rainer Leng, Ars belli. Deutsche taktische und kriegstechnische Bilderhandschriften und Traktate im 15. Und 16. Jahrhundert, vol. 2, Beschreibung der Handschriften (Wiesbaden, 2002), pp. 105–06. For a partial transcription, see Rathgen, Geschütz, p. 110. Note that Rathgen’s reading of the fourth recipe (“2 phunt reines salpeters, 1 phunt swebels und kolen”) as “two pounds of pure saltpeter, one pound of sulfur-and-charcoal [evenly mixed]” appears to be incorrect. A more natural reading is “two pounds of pure saltpeter, one pound [each] of sulfur and charcoal.” That would follow the structure of the previous entry, “4 teil salpeters, 1 swebel, 1 kolen,” and moreover Rathgen’s reading is improbable

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Feuerwerkbuch tradition, 2:1:½ (i.e. 4:2:1) is similarly described as “common” [gemeines] powder that would be acceptable to sell, as distinguished from “better” (5:2:1) or “still better” (6:2:1) powders with higher saltpeter content, which would therefore have cost more.27 In combination, the 1336 recipe from Friuli, the 1338–c. 1350 recipe from Augsburg, and the ingredient-purchase records from 1338–1345 now give us a clear and consistent picture of gunpowder proper in its first decades of use. It was, by comparison to the modern formula, low in saltpeter (the most expensive component), and high in sulfur and charcoal. It may be tempting to think that these earlier formulae were “less good,” that “progress” was needed to “improve” the mixture. That, however, should not be assumed. There is good reason to think that medieval gunners, through a process of experimentation and observation that was not far from the modern “scientific method,” adjusted their recipes in an effort to achieve the best possible performance from the guns they served. They knew what they were doing. Even in the earliest cannon-powder recipe, for example, the author specifically called for charcoal from willow-wood, and this remained common in medieval recipes thereafter. Nineteenth-century testing confirmed in a quantitative way that they were right: willow charcoal was found to produce 16.6% more gas per unit weight than fir, chestnut, hazel, or filbert charcoal, a very substantial increment.28 Saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal can be combined across a fairly wide range of propotions and still “work,” but different recipes will work better or worse for particular purposes. It is quite possible that the Friuli recipe, and other contemporary formulations similar to it, actually worked better than the modern mixture for its own particular purpose: throwing projectiles from the extremely short-barrelled guns that were the norm until the fifteenth century. As gun-barrels started getting longer, the ideal characteristics and therefore the ideal composition of gunpowder would have changed, with more of an emphasis on total gas and energy production, rather than maximally rapid development of the explosion. Practical experimentation will be needed to determine whether this hypothesis is correct, but we now can proceed with a solid knowledge of how the “starting point” gunpowder should be formulated: in accordance with the earliest recipe, which various evidence shows to have been typical for its time, rather than an outlier.

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because 2:½:½ would be the same as 4:1:1, so by his interpretation the author would have been giving the same recipe twice in a row – first more clearly, then repeated less clearly. Moreover, Rathgen omits that that the 2:1:1 mix is identified as “gemeyn” (common), the term used in the Feuerwerkbuch for the 2:1:½ mix. (See next note.) Hassenstein, Feuerwerkbuch, p. 51: “das heisst ein gemeines Pulver. Und das Pulver ist gut für den Kauf, und man mag es wohl (aus)-geben für ein gemeines gutes Pulver.” Dogwood charcoal (also sometimes mentioned in late-medieval powder recipes) was found to be even more powerful, but apparently with even more than proportionately high peak pressure variances, making it particularly dangerous. John F. Guilmartin, Jr., “Ballistics in the Black Powder Era,” in Robert D. Smith, ed., British Naval Armaments, Royal Armouries Conference Proceedings 1 (London, 1989), p. 85.

7 Bellicose Rhetoric: The Memorable War Speeches of One Aragonese Royal Couple Donald J. Kagay

This article deals with the well-known subject of war rhetoric and the not-so-well-known military history of the fourteenth-century Crown of Aragon. It focuses specifically on the important Aragonese king, Pere III (r. 1336–1387) during the ten-year conflict with Castile in the so-called War of the Two Pedros (1356–1366) and the crucial role his third wife, Elionor of Sicily (r. 1349–1375) during the stormy corts of Barcelona in 1364–1365. In both cases the royal couple delivered emotional and hard-hitting rhetoric which either readied soldiers for battle or convinced the Catalan parliamentary estates to vote funds to continue the war with Castile. English translations of the speeches in questions are provided in separate appendices. As the thirteenth century faded in the Iberian Peninsula, the Castilian king, Sancho IV (r. 1312–1350), wrote a royal guidebook for his son, the future Fernando IV (r.1312–1350). In it, he discussed the elements that made a sovereign powerful.11 Of all these, he concluded that a ruler’s word was the most powerful weapon he could wield. The careless use of this powerful tool could do more to weaken a king’s position of power than a well-armed and -trained army could 2 in attempting to overthrow him. This focus on the importance of the spoken word had a long history in Greek 3 and Roman war-making and throughout the Middle Ages. 1

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I would like to thank the editors of the Journal of Medieval Military History, especially Clifford Rogers, for his insightful comments and hard work in getting this article ready for publication. I also greatly appreciate the suggestions of the three readers of this article, which, in most instances, I have incorporated. Suzanne F. Cawsey, Kingship and Propaganda: Royal Eloquence and the Crown of Aragon, 1200–1450 (Oxford, 2002), p. 23. James J. Murphy, “Two Medieval Concepts of Lingual Creativity,” in Public Declamations: Essays on Medieval Rhetoric, Education, and Letters in Honour of Mertin Camargo, ed. Georgiana Doravin and Denis Stodola (Turnhout, 2015), pp. 267–82, esp. pp. 270, 276. For the history of European rhetoric down to the end of the medieval period, see Art and Rhetoric in Roman Culture, ed. Jás Elsner and Michael Meyer (Cambridge, 2015); Robert L. Benson, Law, Rulership, and Rhetoric: Selected Essays of Robert L. Benson, ed. Loren

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Such discussions that manifested themselves during the Middle Ages viewed the waging of war as either a positive or negative aspect of human life. The great majority of these texts considered warfare an important experience of human existence. Some authors, warriors themselves, such as Bertran de Born (c. 1158–1215), portrayed their colorful memories of the battlefield, complete with the snorting of charging horses, the clang of sword upon sword, and the 4 great spilling of human blood. This heroic reflection of combat was occasionally met with an opposite position that saw and condemned warfare’s violent side as a danger to human society. An example of such condemnation is apparent in an Arabic magic text translated into Latin at the court of Alfonso X of Castile (r. 1252–1284) with the title, Picatrix. This treatise looked on human conflict as a doleful source of “deaths and damage…battles, terrors, discord… 5 anxiety and misery.” Despite this strain of disapproval, the vast majority of medieval writers on war approved of, or, at the very least, were fascinated with, the ideals and realities connected with the subject. In these quarters, combat was seen as a proving ground for individual courage or planned group action. Throughout the later Middle Ages, fictional works set the standard for the celebration of bellicose valor through memorable “deeds of arms” (faits d’armes) carried out 6 by literary heroes from Roland to Amadis of Gaul. By the fourteenth century, elements of warfare, real and imagined, formed the subject for increasingly popular military treatises. Some of these works, like Honoré Bonet’s “The Tree of Battles” (L’arbre de batilles) and Christine de Pisan’s “The Book of Deeds and of Chivalry” (Livre de fais d’armes et de chevalerie), looked on warfare through the chivalric lens of earlier centuries, but assumed much of the same

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J. Weber, Giles Constable, and Richard H. Rouse (Notre Dame, 2014); Rita Copeland and Ineke Sluiter, Medieval Grammar and Rhetoric: Language Arts and Literary Theory AD 300–1475 (Oxford, 2015); How to Win an Argument: An Ancient Guide to the Art of Persuasion/Marcus Tullius Cicero, ed. and trans. James M. May (Princeton, 2015); Richard McKeon, “Rhetoric in the Middle Ages,” Speculum 17 (1942), 1–32; Andreas Serafim, Attic Oratory and Performance (New York, 2017); The Theater of Justice: Aspects of Performance in Greco-Roman Oratory, ed. Sophia Papaionnou, Andreas Serafim, and Beatrice de Vek (Leiden, 2017). Bertran de Born, The Poems of the Troubadour, Bertran de Born, ed. and trans. William D. Paden, Jr.; Tilde Sankovitch; and Patricia H. Stablein (Berkeley, 1986), p. 343; Helen Nicholson, Medieval Warfare: Theory and Practice of War in Europe, 300–1500 (New York, 2004), p. 22; Clifford J. Rogers, Soldiers’ Lives Through History: The Middle Ages (Westport, Conn., 2007), p. 173. Picatrix: The Latin Version of the Ghāyal Al-Hakim, ed. and trans. David Pingree (London, 1986), p. 115 (bk. 3, chap. 7); Nicholson, Medieval Warfare, p. 21. Peter F. Ainsworth, Jean Froissart and the Fabric of History (Oxford, 1990), pp. 24, 29, 31; Yuval Noah Harari, Renaissance Military Memoirs: War, History, and Identity, 1450–1600 (Woodbridge, 2004), pp. 134–35. For chivalric literature see Rosalind BrownGrant, French Romance in the Later Middle Ages: Gender, Morality, and Desire (New York, 2008; Maurice Keen, Chivalry (New Haven, 1984), pp. 103–19; Milo Kearney, The Historical Roots of Medieval Literature: Battle and Ballad (Lewiston, N.Y., 1992).



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didactic language contained in military manuals that followed the example of the late antique author, Flavius Vegetius Renatus, who combined a number of earlier treatises to provide a practical guidebook for the understanding of all 7 military subjects. Besides the discussion of strategy, tactics, and logistics, European military treatises that followed Vegetius also focused on how troop morale could be established and maintained during campaigns and especially before and during battles. One of the principal means of accomplishing this critical objective was the war speech, which was usually delivered immediately before fighting began. This type of motivational address ultimately developed in medieval rhetorical studies as the “art of the harangue” (ars arengandi) which laid out the principles of delivering moving speeches, whether the subject was religious, 8 political, or military. Though the theoretical aspects of war speeches did retain this professional rhetorical connection, they were initially the purview of military leaders, whether secular or ecclesiastical, who spoke to troops before they put their lives on the line as the army entered the battlefield. While the form and content of these addresses were normally recreated in later chronicles, the corpus of such speeches clearly reflects the messages delivered to troops. Besides very specific instructions concerning troop movements and behavior, these messages attempted to bolster soldiers at this critical time by appealing to their manhood, military skill, defense duties in regard to country, 9 church, and family as well as to the prospect of temporal and religious rewards. While the historical record principally refers to orations delivered on northern, central, and eastern European battlefields, the Crown of Aragon provided numerous examples of such harangues, especially in connection with the region’s great reconquest ruler and general, Jaume I “the Conqueror” of Aragon (r. 1214–1276). Using various means to increase the morale of his troops when they were battle bound in the great campaigns of the Balearics (1229– 7

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Honoré Bonet, The Tree of Battles, ed. and trans. G. W. Coopland (Cambridge, 1948); idem, “The Tree of Battles.” http://www.deremilitari.org/Resources/Sources/bonet.htm (accessed January 7, 2017); Christine de Pizan, The Book of Deeds of Arms and of Chivalry, trans. Sumner Williard, ed. Charity Cannon Willard (University Park, Penn., 1999). For military manuals, see Vegetius: Epitome of Military Science, trans. N. P. Milner (Liverpool, 1993); John R. E Bliese, “Rhetoric Goes to War: The Doctrine of Ancient and Medieval Military Manuals,” Rhetoric Society Quarterly 24 (1994), 105–30, esp. p. 110. Cawsey, Kingship, p. 28; Mark D. Johnston, “Parliamentary Oratory in Medieval Aragon,” Rhetorica 10 (1992), 99–117, esp. pp. 103–05. David S. Bachrach, “Conforming with the Rhetorical Tradition of Plausibilty: Clerical Representation of Battlefield Orations against Muslims, 1080–1170,” The International History Review 26 (2004), 1–19, esp. pp. 6–9, 12–15; John R. E. Bliese, “Aelred of Rivaulx’s Rhetoric and Morale at the Battle of the Standard, 1138,” Albion 20 (1988), 543–56, esp. pp. 550–54; idem, “Rhetoric and Morale: A Study of Battle Orations from the Central Middle Ages,” Journal of Medieval History 15 (1989), 201–26, esp. p. 220; idem, “When Knightly Courage May Fail: Battle Orations in Medieval Europe,” The Historian 53 (1991), 489–505, esp. pp. 490–96.

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1230) and Murcia (1265–1266), the Conqueror promised his men that once the army stepped on the battlefield he would continue to fight until the end of the conflict unless he “received a mortal blow.” Even with this eventuality, he had already made his men swear that they would never shame him or their country by breaking ranks or running away. If they did so, they were guilty of treason, 10 and, as such, would be executed. He also counseled his soldiers to obey orders and not try to settle personal disputes with their fellows; for if they did so, the 11 king warned, “our army could be lost or thrown into confusion.” To understand how this system of military persuasion operated in service of a successful war effort on the battlefield, in the Aragonese parliament, and through its government records, we can learn a good deal from a royal couple remarkable in the ruling annals of Crown of Aragon: the long-lived and crafty Pere III (r. 1336–1386) and his third wife, the strong-willed and intelligent Elionor of Sicily (r. 1349–1375). Both became accomplished orators in service of the many phases of rulership they know so well. Interestingly, they both shone as deliverers of speeches that glorified war-making in their realms and repeatedly 12 convinced their subjects to support the crown’s military endeavors. A premature infant in 1319, whose “feeble and rickety body” led his parents to expect his rapid death, Pere exceeded all expectations by ruling for 68 years, which constituted the longest reign in the Barcelona dynasty, and would hold sway from the ninth to the fifteenth century.13 Despite a competitive and scheming personality, the Aragonese monarch unaccountably dedicated much of his royal life in seeking to match the military record of his great-great grandfather, Jaume I. Though never even approaching the great deeds (fets, gestes) of his ancestor, the Aragonese monarch unaccountably dedicated much of his adult life, studying, and talking about the significance of warfare for royal govern10

11 12

13

The Book of Deeds of James I of Aragon: A Translation of the Medieval Catalan Llibre dels Feyts [hereafter BD], trans. Damian Smith and Helena Buffery (Aldershot, 2003), pp. 104–05 (chap. 81); Donald J. Kagay, “Jaime I of Aragon: Child and Master of the Spanish Reconquest,” Journal of Medieval Military History 8 (2010), 69–108, esp. pp. 98–99. BD, 304–05 (chap. 415). Pere III (called Pedro IV by his Aragonese subjects) was the king of Aragon, Majorca, Sardinia, and Valencia as well as the Count of Catalonia, Cerdanya, and Ribagorza. Though heir to a small holding in Sicily, Elionor never gained control of the Sicilian crown, which she had long coveted. Pere III, Chronicle, trans. Mary Hillgarth, ed. J. N. Hillgarth, 2 vols. (Toronto, 1980) [hereafter “Pere III”], 1:171 (I:42). For the history of the Crown of Aragon, see T. N. Bisson, The Medieval Crown of Aragon: A Short History (Oxford, 1986); H. J. Chaytor, A History of Aragon and Catalonia (1933; repr., New York, 1969); Joan Reglà, Introducció a la història de la Corona de Aragó (Palma, 1973). For its component parts, see J. M. Lacarra, Aragón en el pasado (Madrid, 1972); Joan Reglà, Apromació a la història del país Valencia (Valencia, 1968); Ferran Soldevila, Historia de Catalunya, 3 vols. (Barcelona, 1934–1936). For Pere III’s certitude that successful war making led to successful kingship, see Donald J. Kagay, “The Theory and Practice of War and Government Practiced by King Pere III ‘The Ceremonious’ of Aragon (1336–1387),” Mediterranean Studies 27 (2019), 63–85.



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ment.14 This certitude also set the stage for the oratorical style and the subjects of the many speeches he delivered over his long life. Because of his weak health as a boy and the insecurity he felt under his hated step-mother, Leonor of Castile, and his half-brothers, Fernando (Ferran) and Juan, Pere sought solace in the written word under the cultured tutelage of his 15 uncle, Count Pedro of Roussillon and Cerdanya. This correspondence was not issued and forgotten, but became the basis of the king’s later works on adminis16 trative theory and history.17 He and his third wife, Elionor, not only lived by the written word, but also spent a great deal of time and effort in both maintaining and organizing a burgeoning collection of communiques, diplomatic exchanges, 18 financial records, and military communications. The significance of the written word was essential for Pere III’s incessant study of the history of his dynasty and the foundation of new administrative standards. The spoken word mirrored this graphic medium in the royal parliament, in which the Aragonese monarch actually stood before his people and 14

15

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17 18

Jaume Aurell, Authoring the Past: History, Autobiography, and Politics in Medieval Catalonia (Chicago, 2012), pp. 45–54; Kagay, “Jaime I of Aragon,” 69–108, esp. pp. 74–75; Jaume Massó Torrents, De la Crónica de Rei En Jaume l’Conqueridor (Tarragona, 1911), pp. 8–10, 18–19; Josep M. Pujol, “The Llibre de rei de En Jaume. A Matter of Style,” in Historical Literature in Medieval Iberia, ed. Alan Deyermond (London, 1996), pp. 35–61, esp. p. 35; Martín de Riquer, “El mundo cultural en la Corona de Aragón con Jaime I,” in X Congreso de Historia de la Corona de Aragón: Jaime I y su época (Zaragoza, 1979), Ponencias, 295–312, esp. pp. 307–09. Francisco M. Gimeno Blay, Escribir, Reinar: La experiencia grafíco-textual de Pedro IV el Cerimonioso (1336–1387) (Madrid, 2006), pp. 19–20, 27, 36–37. For Pere’s early life and disputes with his Castilian in-laws, see Donald J. Kagay “The Dynastic Dimensions of International Conflict in Fourteenth-Century Iberia,” Mediterranean Studies 17 (2008), 77–96; Rafael Tasis i Marca, La vida del rei En Pere III (Barcelona, 1961), pp. 17–20; idem, Pere el Cerimoniós i els seus fills (1957; repr., Barcelona, 1980), pp. 5–10. James III, King of Majorca, Leges Palatinae (facsimile edition), ed. José J. De Olañeta (Barcelona, 1994); “Ordenacions fetes por lo molt alt senyor en Pere terç, rey d’Aragó sobre lo regiment de tots los officials de sua cort,” in Colección de documentos inéditos del Archivo General la Corona de Aragón [hereafter CDACA], ed. Propspero de Bofarull y Moscaró, 42 vols. (Barcelona, 1850–1856), 5:9–264; Ordinacions de la casa i cort de Pere el Cereimoniós, ed. Francisco M. Gimeno, Daniel Gonzalbo, and Josep Trenchs (Valencia, 2009); Gimeno Blay, Escribir, 69–71; Marta Vanlandingham, Transforming the State: King, Court, and Political Culture in the Realms of Aragon (1313–1387) (Leiden, 2002), pp. 16–17, 25–27, 101–2, 113–14; Sesma Muñoz, “Pedro IV,” p. 422; Fernando Sevillano Colom, “Mateu Adria, protonotario de Pedro IV el Cerimonioso,” in VIII Congreso de historia de la Corona de Aragón, 3 vols. (Valencia, 1973), 2:103–18. J. N. Hillgarth, “La personalitat política cultura de Pere III a través de seva crónica,” Llengua & Literatura 5 (1992–1993), 7–102, esp. p. 92. Gimeno Blay, Escribir, 45–47, 58–59; Joaquim Trenchs Odena and A.M. Arago, Las cancillerías de la Corona de Aragón y Mallorca desde Jaume I á la muerte de Juan II (Zaragoza, 1983), pp. 45–46; José Ángel Sesma Muñoz, “Pedro IV y la protección de la imagen real en la Corona de Aragón,” in La construcción medieval de la memoria regia, ed Pascual Martínez Sopena and Ana Rodríquez (Valencia, 2011), pp. 415–24, esp. pp. 420–21.

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told them what he wanted of them. The king commenced these assemblies, known as the corts in Catalonia and the cortes in Aragon and Valencia, with an opening speech (praepositio, propositio) that summarized the royal aims for 19 the meeting in an address that could run up to a half-hour. Pere considered these addresses as shining hours of his reign, during which could make clear to his subjects his ideas, especially those concerning the importance of kingship and the use of warfare. The surviving original texts of these speeches – written and revised with loving care in the king’s own hand – show how important he 20 considered them. In the last decades of his reign, Pere gave meaningful speeches of this sort in the assemblies of all his realms. In 1363 at the Aragonese town of Monzón, he delivered a number of speeches in a joint meeting of Aragonese, Catalan, Majorcan, and Valencian delegates, repeating a theme he had used frequently since the beginning of the War of the Two Pedros in 1356. He warned his people that the seven-year-old conflict still posed a “great danger and misfortune” to their own lives and that of their fellow citizens that could only be avoided by their continued good will. When this support would finally materialized after months, during which the king fumed in frustration, Pere, still livid with anger, challenged the estates to stand up like men and follow him into battle “on horseback, on foot, or in ships.”21 Those who regularly attended these assemblies soon saw what a talented and learned speaker their king was, but also recognized the passion that infused his words when he recalled the “many wars 22 and feats-of arms” he had undergone in defending his people. As a historian of his family’s military accomplishments, Pere was fluent in the language of human combat. Although never hardened by direct experience of war until his later life, the king had prepared himself with extensive study of past wars and sage advice from his father, Alfons III (r. 1285–1291), who counseled his son that when facing an enemy on the battlefield, he should not seek safety, but rather conquest or death.23 Although the opportunity to taste warfare 19

20 21

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Luis Felipe Arregui Luces, “La Curia y las Cortes en Aragón,” Argensola 4 (1953), 1–36, esp. p. 21; José Coroleu y Juglada, Las cortes catalana (Barcelona, 1876), p. 105; Donald J. Kagay, “The Development of the Cortes in the Crown of Aragon, 1064–1327,” (Ph.D. diss., Fordham University, 1981), pp. 393–94; idem, “The Emergence of ‘Parliament’ in the Thirteenth-Century Crown of Aragon: A View from the Gallery,” in On the Social Origins of Medieval Institutions: Essays in Honor of Joseph F. O’Callaghan, ed. Donald J. Kagay and Theresa M. Vann (Leiden, 1998), pp. 222–41, esp. p. 227. Cawsey, Kingship, 37. CDACA, 48:63–64; Parlaments a les corts catalanes, ed. Ricard Albert and Joan Gassiot (Barcelona, 1928), pp. 24–26; Donald J. Kagay, “A Government Besieged by Conflict: The Parliament of Monzón (1362–1363) as Military Financier,” in The Hundred Years War: A Wider Focus, ed. L. J. Andrew Villalon and Donald J. Kagay (Leiden, 2005), pp. 113–48, esp. p. 130; idem, “The Parliament of the Crown of Aragon as Military Financier,” esp. pp. 66–67. Parlaments, 52–56, 258; Cawsey, Kingship, 81–82. Pere III, 1:147 (I:147). For the Aragonese invasion of Sardinia in 1323–1324 and the several campaigns Pere fought down to 1371 to maintain control over the island, see David



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first hand came very near to the Aragonese monarch in 1364, he missed his chance, not through his own fault, but rather because of the refusal of his enemy, Pedro I of Castile (r. 1350–1366/69), to fight.24 Pere, however, was not denied the experience of delivering a military harangue. Awaiting an anticipated Castilian attack on a sloping beach near the Valencian town of Murviedro (Sagunto), he addressed his troops that were drawn up for combat with a speech that showed 25 his great knowledge of the ancient and medieval arenga. Pere’s battlefield speech was so important to the king as a souvenir of his truncated military career that he describes it twice in his chronicle. In the first, he talks of it almost as a disinterested observer and reviews the three points that he brought before his soldiers who politely awaited the possible battle that could take their lives. The king began the speech by dedicating his mutual efforts and those of his troops to Almighty God, whom the king hoped would allow them all to fight energetically against their Castilian enemies. Pere then reminded his men of the military pedigree from which he had sprung by briefly reviewing the great victories of his glorious Aragonese forebears. He ended by promising them all, even those of Castilian stock, an equitable division of the booty the 26 battle might produce. The second rendition of this harangue, which appears in the Cronica’s next chapter, is surely closer to the king’s actual voice. He began the address with the same salutation as that of his wife’s great speech of 1365: “Good People” (Bona Gent). Although containing many of the elements of the earlier version, this battlefield oration reflected the military threat that seemed to come ever closer but never materialized. With the reality of combat before their eyes, Pere told his soldiers, both his own troops and Castilian mercenaries under the command of Enrique de Trastámara, what they were fighting for. As he pointed to Pedro I, who was commanding his troops in the building of a barricade close to where the Palancia River emptied into the sea, the Aragonese monarch declared that his own cause was truly just. His “principal adversary,” however, was well known to the Castilians gathered under Aragon’s banners. Most had been treated as traitors by Pedro, their male relatives killed and their female family members shamefully raped. If this was not motive enough for his foreign troops to take the field against their former lord, Pere promised that the

24

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Abulafia, The Western Mediterranean Kingdoms, 1200–1500 (London, 1997), pp. 123–27; Giuseppe Meloni, Genova e Aragona all’epoca di Pietro il Cerimonioso, 2 vols. (Padua, 1971–1976); Vicente Salvert y Roca, Cerdeña y la expanión de la Corona de Aragón (Madrid, 1956); idem, “El Tradado de Anagni y la expansión mediterránea de la Corona de Aragón,” Estudios de Edad Media de la Corona de Aragón [hereafter EEMCA] 5 (1952), 209–360. Donald J. Kagay, “Battle-Seeking Commanders in the Later Middle Ages: Phases of Generalship in the War of the Two Pedros,” in The Hundred Years War (Part III), Further Considerations, ed. L. J. Andrew Villalon and Donald J. Kagay (Leiden, 2013), pp. 63–83, esp. pp. 76–80. Pere III, 2:546 (VI:40); Johnston, “Parliamentary Oratory,” 105. Pere III, 2:546–47 (VI:60); Cawsey, Kingship, 48.

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Almighty would reward their military efforts with victory and that he himself would share plunder equally with his soldiers, no matter their national origins. While still pointing at his enemy across the beach, the king put himself forward as good sovereign and his enemy as the evil one. Despite this, the Aragonese leader knew that his foreign troops might still feel some loyalty to the Castilian crown. To avoid their changing of sides once the fighting had begun, the king promised his Castilian soldiers that they could still before the battle cross over 27 to Pedro’s army in safety with Aragon’s continuing good will. In the end, Pere only asked that he would be first on to the battlefield, if only by the length of his war horse. Even though Pere’s long-awaited battle never took place, his words on this Valencian beach comprised one of the memorable arengas of the fourteenth century. With Pere III’s oratorical achievements to live up to, the most accomplished of his four wives, Elionor of Sicily, brought many talents of her own to the union with the Aragonese king. The leader of the cadet house of the Barcelona dynasty, in 1349 Elizabeth of Carinthia, the widow of Pedro I of Sicily (r. 1321–1342), was delighted with the possibilities the new union might confer on her daughter. Elionor, a headstrong princess who felt fully competent to takes up the reins of royal power in Sicily, suffered through a month of virtual imprisonment in her aunt’s monastery before she agreed to formally abandon her claims to the Sicilian throne in exchange for her elevation to the status of Aragonese queen.28 Showing herself to be a good wife, who in the first nine years of her marriage presented her husband with three sons and one daughter, she also quickly emerged as a talented administrator whose strong will and solid education made her very much the king’s equal. As a queen-mother who managed her own household/court and those of her sons, Joan and Martí; her daughter, Elionor; and Martí’s intended, Maria de Luna, Elionor was supported from the revenues of urban sites and castles that stretched from northern Catalonia and Aragon to southern Valencia, and out to the Balearic Islands. Simply to maintain herself and those who depended on her, the queen ruled with a strong and sometimes overbearing administrative hand. She was not above court intrigues, as Count Bernat de Cabrera, her husband’s principal adviser and her main enemy in the Aragonese court, would find out in 1364 at the cost of his life. Despite this dark chapter in the queen’s official life, Elionor always remained loyal to her husband, especially during the dangerous decade of war with Castile (1356–1366). During these years that were bound together by one crisis after another, she proved an invaluable raiser of troops and of the money needed to pay them, all the while serving as a spokesperson 29 for the royal cause both inside and outside the Crown of Aragon. 27 28

29

Pere III, 2:548–49 (VI:40–41); Cawsey, Kingship, 28. Prospero de Bofarull y Mocaró, Los Condes de Barcelona vindicados de los Reyes de España, 2 vols. (Barcelona, 1836), 2:235–38; E. L. Miron, The Queens of Aragon: Their Lives and Times. (London, 1913), pp. 187–88. Donald J. Kagay, “Elionor of Sicily: A Mediterranean Queen’s Two Lives of Family,



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While Elionor had few opportunities for public speaking as either queen or royal administrator, this changed in the last years of the Castilian war when 30 she stood as the Governor of Catalonia and royal lieutenant (locumtenens). In these posts, she served as a representative of her husband, a duty which occasionally took her before the Catalan corts. During the Castilian war when Pere was occupied in other realms, the queen’s power in Catalonia markedly increased. In 1359, especially, when Pere fought off Castilian cross-border raids, Elionor emerged as the Aragonese crown’s staunchest supporter. While strug31 gling mightily to maintain funding for her own court, she proved even more energetic in supporting her husband’s naval units as they shadowed the Castilian fleet along the Mediterranean coast. To keep the royal fleet fully equipped and manned, she worked hard to have at least eleven galleys (panfili) fitted out with 32 “masts, sails, anchors, cables, and all necessary things.” In addition to arranging for the readying of ships in her southern French ports, Elionor also demonstrated her iron will by forcing her Catalan clergy and townsmen to contribute to not one but several subsidies for the support of her husband’s naval enterprises during the summer and fall of 1359.33 To bring the queen’s galleys down to Barcelona, she drew on the service of men recruited from Catalan maritime 34 villages who worked as rowers and crossbowmen. When Pere III’s troops held off Castilian attacks across the Balearics, Pedro I redirected his attacks against Aragon and Valencia. In turn, Elionor renewed her administrative efforts to raise fresh funds to support frontier troops by announcing yet another subsidy in the late summer of 1359 which all northern 35 Catalan bishoprics and urban sites had to pay within six months. As a purveyor

30

31 32

33 34 35

Administration, Diplomacy, and War,” JMMH 17 (2018), 81–102. For Elionor’s occupancy of these offices, see Arxiu de la corona d’Aragó [hereafter ACA], Cancillería real, R. 1568, f. 1; Teresa Canet Aparisi, “La administración real y los antecedentes históricos de la audiencia moderna,” Estudis: Revista de historia moderna 32 (2006), 1–40, esp. pp. 17, 20–21; Luis González Anton, “Primeras resistencias contra el lugarteniente general-virrey en Aragón,” Anuario de estudios medievales 8 (1989), 303–14, esp. p. 307; José Antonio Lalinde Abadía, La gobernación general en la Corona de Aragón (Madrid, 1963), pp. 201–02; idem, “Virreyes y lugartenientes medievales en la Corona de Aragón,” Cuadernos de historia de España 31–32 (1960), 98–172, esp. pp. 108–9; Lledó Ruiz Domingo, “‘Del qual tenim loch.’ Leonor de Sicilia y el origen de la lugar tenencia feminina en la Corona de Aragón,” Medievalismo 27 (2017), 303–36, esp. p. 311. ACA, Cancillería real, R. 1567, ff. 43, 136v, 139v. ACA, Cancillería real, R. 1568, ff. 3, 4v, 6r–v, 13v–15, 24v–27, 38v, 47v–48, 50. For Catalan galleys of the era, see Archibald Lewis and Timothy J. Runyan European Naval and Maritime History, 300–1500 (Bloomington, 1985), pp. 73–75; Lawrence V. Mott, Power in the Medieval Mediterranean: The Catalan-Aragonese Fleet in the War of the Sicilian Vespers (Gainesville, 2003), pp. 186–96. ACA, Cancillería real, R. 1568, ff. 2v, 5–6, 7r–v, 15r–v, 21v–23, 24, 27, 30v, 32r–v, 36v–37v, 40v–41v, 45v, 48v, 50v–51. ACA, Cancillería real, R. 1568, ff. 4, 5, 19–21v, 27v, 38r–v, 52–r–v, 61v–62. ACA, Cancillería real, R. 1568, ff. 12–13, 28, 32v–34v, 36r–v, 39r–v, 42–43, 45, 46, 61r–v, 62v, 73v–74v.

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of news about the military actions of the Castilian king in the Mediterranean and 36 along the Aragonese and Valencian frontiers, the queen used this fresh intelligence to demand barons, knights, townsmen, and villagers send troops to the frontiers of these realms.37 She promised to arrange for the military salaries that all of Pere’s soldiers had grown used to during the Castilian war, but pointed out that even without wages, it was their duty as “good and loyal vassals” to serve in the borderlands and see that the castles of the region were well-supplied and staffed with a sufficient number of men. If they failed in this essential duty, all their “franchises, liberties, privileges, and immunities” might be lost from such 38 a clear record of disservice to the crown. Elionor’s role as military administrator was the most direct in her official relationship with the domestic and foreign captains that worked for the Aragonese crown.39 As with non-noble warriors that she called to frontier service, he appeals to noble captains were phrased in the traditional language of feudal obligation: she would “pay and comfort them,” for, after all, she and her husband trusted them to do their duty unless, like the archbishop of Tarragona, they were incapacitated by wounds, illness, or old age.40 When captains, including the Hospitaller commander of Montblanch, Ferran Goméz de Albornoz, and the order’s leader in the Crown of Aragon, the castellan of Amposta, Juan Fernández de Heredía, left their frontier posts without royal permission, the queen furiously accused them of “disservice to the Lord King…by despising 41 his commands and orders.” The queen’s differing tone of support or disapproval could apply even to Pere’s greatest foreign captain, Enrique de Trastámara. Attempting to demonstrate her trust in the Castilian mercenary, she formally declared him to be the “greatest captain of the kingdom of Aragon,” and directed all other Aragonese military leaders to obey his commands. Even when Enrique grew dissatisfied over the crown’s slow salary payments to his men, Elionor attempted to follow her husband’s course by attempting to settle this fiscal argument as quickly as possible.42 Hearing, however, that the great captain felt that he “did not have a good or sufficient reason to remain on the frontier,” and consequently had gone to Zaragoza in an attempt to negotiate a suitable salary settlement and explore other lucrative military opportunities, the queen unleashed her “amazement” – 43 an obvious code-word for her legendary temper–on Aragon’s first soldier. 36 37 38 39

40 41 42 43

ACA, Cancillería real, R. 1568, ff. 28v–29, 34, 60v–61. ACA, Cancillería real, R. 1568, ff. Ff. 3r–v, 56r–v, 68v–70v, 72, 73, 76v–77. ACA, Cancillería real, R. 1568, ff. 2, 53, 55v, 57r–v, 59v–60, 64, 65v, 66, 77, 78. For Pere’s captains in the Castilian war, see Donald J. Kagay, “Pere III’s System of Defense in the War of the Two Pedros (1356–1366), The Aragonese Crown’s Use of Aristocratic, Urban, Clerical, and Foreign Captains,” Studies in Medieval and Renaissance History third series, 7 (2010), 195–232. ACA, Cancillería real, R. 1568, ff. 47r–v, 57v–58, 74–75. ACA, Cancillería real, R. 1568, ff. 10v, 13v, 60v, 68r–v, 87r–v. ACA, Cancillería real, R. 1568, ff. 46r–v, 52v–53, 62r–v, 67r–v. ACA, Cancillería real, R. 1568, ff. 9r–v, 10v–11, 71v.



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Until 1364, Elionor’s voice only came to her people through the official letters she sent to them or those of theirs she commented on. This written medium forms the raw material of her most memorable public speech, which was delivered in the corts of Barcelona in 1365. In her graphic and oratorical communication, she skilfully interwove two elements: the honor of doing one’s duty and the shame that resulted from refusing to do so. According to Elionor, Pere’s subjects had to fight and even die to “protect the person and honor of their lord king [and queen]…as well as the good of the commonwealth of their realms and lands.”44 This “bond of allegiance” between the royal couple and their people linked both parties with “good affection.” Final victory over Castile would thus come from 45 their “good justice and truth along with the good hearts of their warriors.” If, on the other hand, their subjects attempted to avoid their duty with “delays and postponements, oppressions and litigation” they had more in common with the “small faith and truth” of their Castilian enemy, under whose cruel control both the “guilty and innocent would have their throats cut.”46 All in all, the queen could never forgive her subjects who would not help her husband in his time 47 of “urgent need.” Elionor carried her forceful writing style in the two tumultuous assemblies her husband convened at Barcelona in 1364 and 1365. Adapting many of the same war directives she had perfected in 1359, the queen soon found that confronting Catalonia’s parliamentary estates face to face quite different from raising points with them by mail. This reality became crystal clear when the first corts commenced on 10 March 1364. Elionor explained that she, as Pere’s lieutenant general who formally acted in his place, wanted the members of the assembly to vote yet another subsidy to oppose the war that the Castilian king was maliciously and cruelly waging against Valencia. If Pedro I proved successful in this enterprise, Aragon would soon fall and Catalonia would quickly share the same fate. Her husband could not survive unless the wealthiest of his realms would come through with 120,000 libras before the year was out. The Catalans agreed to the payment, but established such a cumbersome system for its collection that very little of the expected tax money had reached the king by the end of the year. Concluding that his wife had not established firm enough control over the corts, Pere finally forced the estates to re-assemble and promise a fresh grant 48 in the spring of 1365. When this latest fiscal pledge by the Catalans again proved disappointing, the Aragonese monarch summoned another Catalan assembly, but with the contin44 45 46 47 48

ACA, Cancillería real, R. 1568, ff. 23v, 28r–v, 106–7. ACA, Cancillería real, R. 1568, ff. 1, 30r–v, 74–75. ACA, Cancillería real, R. 1567, f. 123v; R. 1568, ff. 32, 68, 70v–71. ACA, Cancillería real, R. 1568, ff. 39v–40. Pere III, 568–69 (VI:54); Colección de las cortes de los antiguos reinos de Aragón y de Valencia y del principado de Cataluña [hereafter CAVC], ed. Fidel Fita and Bienvenido Oliver, 27 vols. (Madrid, 1896–1922), 2:148–50, 168–70; Donald J. Kagay, “The Parliament of the Crown of Aragon as Military Financier in the War of the Two Pedros,” JMMH 14 (2016), 57–77, esp. p. 68.

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uing Castilian assault against Valencia, he again had to speed southward, fully attending to confront his old enemy, Pedro the Cruel. He again left his wife to lead the corts which commenced on 17 July 1365. Unfortunately for the queen, many of the same troublesome delegates who had made her life so miserable in the previous assembly stood before her again in the later one. Not surprisingly, their reaction to the subject of new subsidies in order to support Pere and pay the salaries of the “free companies” was even more heated than in 1364. They proclaimed they could not pay such astronomical sums since they were “vexed and burdened with…great expenses.”49 Nonetheless, if the king abrogated the earlier partially collected grants from 1363 and 1364, the townsmen would pledge one-tenth of their earnings for the next three years to a reformulated war fund.50 This seemingly fair-minded proposal pushed the Aragonese queen beyond the limits of her frayed patience. The queen’s postponement of the assembly until late August did not make the estates any more amenable to the crown’s requests for more money. Re-convening the assembly on 22 August “on the cloister grass” of Barcelona’s largest Franciscan monastery, she soon lost her temper with her stubborn subjects. Near tears, she sadly complained that, because of them, she had suffered through a “month of fifty days” enduring 51 “their many intricacies, great delays, and postponements.” For the next several weeks, Elionor was caught between the intransigence of the urban estate and the pressure from her husband who, though busy with the siege of his Valencian town of Murviedro which had been captured by Pedro I in 1363, had time to send pointed instructions to his wife about the Barcelona corts and increasingly angry letters to the unmoved Catalan townsmen.52 Attempting to let both the Barcelona assembly and her husband calm down, the queen postponed the Barcelona meeting fourteen times over the next three weeks. She did not meet with the estates again until September 21, when she delivered one of the truly memorable “classical harangues” in the Crown of Aragon’s parliamen53 tary annals, which managed to sweep all opposition before it.

49 50

51 52

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CAVC, 2:340–45, 353–54. Ibid., 2:354–55; M. Fibla Guitart, “Les Corts de Tortosa i Barcelona 1365. Recapte de donatiu,” Cuadernos de historia económica de Cataluña 19 (1978), 97–121, esp. p. 100; Kagay, “Parliament,” 69–70. CAVC, 2:358–62. ACA, Cancillería real, R. 1206, ff. 22r–v; R. 1208, ff. 33–34, 50v; Manuel Sánchez Martínez, “Negociación y fiscalidad en Cataluña a mediados del siglo XIV: Los Cortes de Barcelona de 1365,” in Negociar en la Edad Media/Négocier en la Moyen Âge: Actas de Coloquio celebrada en Barcelona los dias 14, 15, 16 de Octubre de 2004, ed. María Teresa Ferrer i Mallol, Jean-Marie Moeglin, Stéphane Pequinot, and Manuel Sánchez Martínez (Barcelona, 2005), pp. 123–64, esp. pp. 158–162 (docs. 1, 3, 4). For Pere’s siege of Murviedro, see Pere III, 2:569–70 (VI:55); Chaytor, A History of Aragon and Catalonia, pp. 192–93; Mario Lafuente Gómez, Dos coronas en guerra: Aragón y Castilla (1356–1366) (Zaragoza, 2012), p. 145. CAVC, 2:362–67.



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While Pere III acted as a commander of soldiers for only one period of his life (1364–1365) and during that time faced the actual reality of battle only once. His one harangue reveals a man who, despite his lack of military experience, seemed to face with unusual calmness the uncertainties that loomed before him. In truth, he had already rehearsed his strongly held opinions about the Castilian conflict, but never before when his hated enemy was in sight. Instead, he had vented his anger and frustration, calling for vengeance against Pedro I, whose evil made him almost worse than a Muslim. Personal revenge, however, was not enough. So families, cities, and realms could survive, the king and his subjects would have to prove their honor and courage against their dangerous adversaries. These bellicose words were not uttered on a battlefield soon to be covered with gore. Instead, they were written in dispatches and communiques to administrators from across the Crown of Aragon whose duty, like that of his paid soldiers, was to make every effort in winning the Castilian conflict. Pere uttered similar words to the members of his parliaments so the troops and money to pay them could be posted on his exposed frontiers. As one of the most important members of the royal family and the Crown of Aragon’s administration, Queen Elionor was bound to defend her husband and their children while carrying out her administrative duties to Pere as her royal lord. From this point of view, the Aragonese king, who had served as the realm’s commander, delivered innumerable harangues during the decade of desperate conflict with Pedro I of Castile. Those, both military and civilian, who heard and acted on his bellicose words, bear great responsibility in saving the Crown of Aragon.

Documentary Appendix 1 February 11, 1363 After three months at the parliamentum of Monzón, Pere addresses the assembly, forcefully demanding a war subsidy. Original Language: Catalan CDACA, 48:63–64 Parlaments a les Corts Catalanes, 24–26 Partial Translation of Catalan Original: Cawsey, Kingship, 111, 137. The last three paragraphs are the author’s translation. It has pleased Our Lord God that we should be your king and prince, not because we deserve it, but because He acted by His grace and virtue. And in regard to this, He bestowed His grace for us twice over: first, since the lord king, our father,54 was not born first, but since the first-born, the Lord Prince Jaume, 55 renounced the kingdom and then entered the Order of Montesa, in which he died, and second because the primogeniture and kingdom passed to our lord 56 father. Neither were we born first, but the first-born, the lord prince Alfons died and the primogeniture and realm passed to us. And yet God did not make us great of stature but that we should have such a great will and heart that there is no knight in the world who would die or live in such a way in defending our crown and realm. And with your help in following in the footsteps of our predecessors up to now, we have worked hard in conquering and winning. Now, we are faced with a great disaster and misfortune, through which we might lose in fifteen days that which was conquered in five hundred years. We have purposefully said fifteen days and no more, for, according to the news we have had which we informed you of today before lunch, the king of Castile is attacking these regions with a great force and we should assume that he will march on Zaragoza. And though we are safe here, Zaragoza, as you know, has an inadequate defense and provisions. Consequently, if it is lost, he will not stop until he comes to the sea and then to Barcelona. Barcelona is not such a large city that it can endure a great siege since it is not the kind of place that can store or bring in many supplies. It would therefore lose a long siege for lack of supplies. And this did not come about unexpectedly either through our fault or yours except that you did not have the heart and will to serve as well as your ancestors have served ours from all time and if only you had maintained this for us. But overall, it came from this misfortune of arguments and debates that you have among yourselves, each one wishing for his own property and guarding his privileges and liberties. The clergy and knights say that they should not pay as 54 55 56

Alfonso IV (Alfons III) (r.1327–1336) Montesa was an Aragonese military order founded in 1317 during the reign of Jaime II. Alfonso was the first son of Alfons III and Teresa d’Etença; he was born in 1315 and died in 1317.



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much as our townsmen and our people say they should. And in this debate, we have spent the fall and into the spring, except for the Catalans who agree with us. Yet, truthfully, they have acted no better than the others, but have not granted us the subsidy. And in regard to this debate, we and you are ruining ourselves. And if our people and those for whom you are here should find out how you are acting for yourselves as their negotiators, we believe that they would all cry 57 58 out from Tarazona to the Salses River and from the Salses River to Guar59 damar: “May all those negotiators die and go to the devil! Let those perish who wish to die safely!!” Therefore, if we have to die, you may take it as certain that we are not remaining here, but wish that all of you – prelates, clergy, knights, townsmen, and villagers – should follow us to Zaragoza, and whether riding, on foot, or in ships, know that you all must go there. And there, to hold a cortes or whatever is desired, we shall either live or die. And thus, we require and say this to you with all the greatest expression of our heart and with great sorrow concerning our loss and yours. 2 April 29, 1364 Harangue Pere III delivered on a sloping beach near Murviedro in anticipation of battle with Pedro I of Castile who was forming up his troops on the other side of the beach. Original Language: Catalan Les quatre grans Cròniques. IV: Cronica del rei En Pere, ed. Ferran Soldevila Translation of Catalan Original: Pere III of Catalonia (Pedro IV of Aragon), 2:549–50 (VI:41). Good People At no time have we taken pleasure in speaking badly or for the dishonor of others, but now when I recognize that the king of Castile and I stand before the judgement of God, I say of him that he is wicked and false and as great a traitor who has waged and is waging war in my land. I request that Our Lord King will on this day grant me justice against him [the Castilian king] and we have unshaken confidence that He will do so. And now I address those of you who are gathered together with me and [especially] to you Castilians who know that I have welcomed you into my kingdom, and shared my possessions with you, not as much as you deserved or as I wished, but as much as I was able. You know well concerning the king of Castile who is over there and there is not one of you against whom he has not killed a father, son, brother, or relative and dishonored wives, daughters or sisters, after taking all your goods and theirs and treating all as traitors. Because of this, I say to you that today you should remember the evil deeds that the said king has committed against you and the 57 58 59

Tarazona is an Aragonese city to the northwest of Zaragoza near the Ebro River. The Salses is a small French river above Perpignan. Guardamar de Segura is a small port on the Valencian coast below Alicante.

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good deeds I have done for you. Therefore, I want to speak to you and beg that if there are any who want to go over there [to the Castilian lines], they may go now before the battle begins. Indeed we give you permission to go and neither your horses nor weapons will be touched. It is better that you leave now rather than turn traitor once we have commenced battle…. Now I say to those of you who are my vassals and countrymen, let your hearts consider your ancestors! How many valiant deeds have they carried out with my ancestors. Remember whose sons you are, for it is in my heart that I am the son of one of the best kings in the world and I trust in the goodness of God that I will prove it on this day. And I will ask you one favor: that I will be the first in battle and that the front hooves of your horses will line up with the rear hooves of my horse. This will be enough for me. 3 September 21, 1365 Queen Elionor delivers a speech to the Corts of Barcelona requesting the vote of an emergency subsidy to support her husband’s campaigns in Valencia. Original Language: Catalan CAVC, 2:369–72 Parlaments, 27–33 Sánchez Martínez, “Negociación,” 161–64 (doc. 5). Author’s translation. Good People If you consider the great allegiance that your predecessors and you yourselves have owed and still owe to the Lord King and his predecessors; if you consider how greatly the said Lord King and his predecessors have been served by you and your predecessors down to this very day; and if you consider how above all the nations of the world your fame and that of your predecessors has shone and still shines from the true allegiance, loyalty, fealty and great love toward your lord, no one, neither the lord king nor we, would think that in this crisis you could allow the said Lord King, the realm, and you yourself to perish since if it is not taken care of, it is at the point of perishing for the following reasons, among others. Know that an agreement, confirmed by your will, counsel, and consent, was made between the Lord King or his procurators and some great barons and captains of the great companies of France that must come to the aid and defense of the Lord King and of his realm against his adversary, the king of Castile, and to invade the realm of Castile and there, along with the counts of Trastámara and Dènia and other companies, to wage war against the said king of Castile and carry out an attack there. And according to the opinion of the Lord King and those that are with him (including us and you), the completion of such an invasion of Castile will bring about the restoration and security of the Lord King and of his realm along with the destruction of his enemy. In the many days that have passed, we have said all of these things in the present corts. And to have the great companies take part in the aid and defense of the



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Lord King and of his realm and wage war on the said King of Castile within his realm, a certain sum of money must be given all at once to the said great companies. This has to be collected and in hand from the grant and subsidy, the establishment of which is waited for in the present corts. And according to the intention of the Lord King and us, we have cared and hoped to have the said sum of money collected and in hand during all the present month of September. And this will be necessary for the said companies to come as quickly as was stated: that is, that they would be in Castile for all the said present month. And as God has ordained, they have not hurried as much as they said they would. And this has proved right and necessary for the delay which has occurred in this present corts and not so much from the great insistence we have continually made to speed up and finish the said corts, but especially from the actions of the great companies. Now even if the arrival of the said companies was delayed, they have already begun to arrive today according to the news we have received; we must count on the fact that, with the great diligence and speed that has been devoted to this, the money may be collected and in hand for all of the upcoming month of October and that it will be in hand, and this is the work of God. And we personally night and day have undergone great anxiety and care and for a month we have changed our abode and living quarters to continually be in this monastery60 where you have held the said corts so that all day we may frequently be able to bring up, hurry along, and request that you finish the corts. And besides those of our council have all day at suitable and unsuitable hours have brought up, stirred up, and petitioned–now with us and then without–that the matters of the corts be brought to an end. And afterwards by our great insistence and pointed requests that we have made to you by word and in writing to force you to agree to carry out the 61 subsidy; that is, by clarifying and supplementing the grant of Tortosa and adding to this for the effective defense of the commonwealth. You have already proclaimed and had written down the articles by which you intend to carry out the grant or subsidy. Yet you have written about other intrigues and new matters, not wishing to carry out and present the said grant to us who acts in the place of the Lord King, since this is customary and must be done. From this matter, many great and irreparable dangers are arising; namely, those whom we know about from the letters we received and have communicated with you. From the Lord Prince Pere and the castellan de Amposta who are in Avignon and Sir Francesch Roma who is in Perpignan but is coming here, [we know] that we will shortly have the companies with us. And there were letters from Toulouse sent to some citizens of Barcelona saying that a public announcement had been made had been made in Toulouse concerning the procuring and storing of provisions for the great companies that are coming to aid the King of Aragon. Moreover, you know that Sir Francesch de Perellós, 60 61

The Franciscan monastery in Barcelona. The Catalan parliamentary meeting held in late 1364.

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standing in place of the Lord King and likewise as his messenger and procurator, is in the regions of France to take care of the said companies and you can imagine that he will, has, and is doing his best to have the said companies come and to tend to them, especially since when he left here we and you informed him in certain terms that he would be given free access to the money that must be given the companies. And if that which has been promised for the said companies is not forthcoming for them when they arrive in this realm, you can imagine how they will act in being so offended and how they will mistreat and destroy all of this land. Then suppose that they should be here under our hope and yours that our promise will be carried out for them. But if our hope is disappointed and the promise is not kept for them, one can imagine that we will have them as enemies. And it could be worse if the King of Castile knew or had the feeling about this (please God that it should not be so). It is feared that he would negotiate with them or he has already done so for his own aid and against us, giving them a similar or even greater sum than that we have already promised them. With these said companies, he will be too powerful and we too weak. And we would be at the point of ruin, for it is said that the said companies are so great and numerous that if they can wage war for the King of Castile, there will be no greater power than that which he has. Furthermore, you know that our Lord King is almost at the point of returning to his crown the town of Murviedro, the loss of which was the occasion of such scandal and evil. Understand that in powerfully prosecuting the war and in advancing toward Segorbe, Xèrica, Teruel, and forward from there, he is neglecting himself – as he has done and is still doing – in giving all the effort that he can in returning to his crown those sites and others occupied by the king of Castile with the sustenance and help of the barons and other companies of Catalan horse who have to be paid and repaid their salary from the grant or subsidy which is hoped to be carried out in the present corts. And if you, the [members of the] said corts, do not wish to come to a conclusion and move forward in this matter, the evident presumption is that you wish the above-said contrary things and finally desire the ruin of the Lord King and his realm – something that God does not wish. There we, not without reason and being in great anxiety, confusion, and sorrow of heart from the aforesaid things, entreat and require you as from the Lord King and our faithful and loyal vassals and from that faith and allegiance that you owe him and us and from that obligation you maintain and owe to the commonwealth and to its defense and to prevent all the aforesaid dangers and the many other irreparable difficulties that can follow from them and to abandon all intrigues and novelties, know furthermore that you have agreed to the grant or subsidy, have deliberated on mounting such a defense for the commonwealth and have just promulgated the articles according to which you intend to carry out the said subsidy. Therefore, you have to finish these and present them to us without delay. There since it is customary and must be carried out that these



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must be read to us. We must respond in place of the Lord King to each of the articles since they require a response. And thus we wish and require that you should act now before having lunch for we never intend to eat until you make the presentation of the said grant to us for we see that a delay of one day from now could mean as it has been said the death and destruction of the Lord King and his realm. And what is more we see and understand this and we, in place of the Lord King, wish to avoid it. And these articles should not be given, read, or disclosed to everyone. We wish that it will not be publicly proclaimed that neither the Lord King nor the realm shall come to the point of destruction. And we command you, Sir Jacme Conesa, to write down the names of all those who are in the present corts, to whom we have ordered that immediately each should individually respond by the faith and allegiance that they owe to the Lord King whether this request that we have made is just and reasonable and takes into account the objective of the defense of the commonwealth as well as the avoidance of the above-said dangers and difficulties.

8 Coureurs and Their Role in Late Medieval Warfare1 Michael J. Harbinson

Horsemen described as coureurs are referred to frequently in contemporary accounts of the Hundred Years War and in chronicles and memoirs of the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. Mentioned in a variety of roles and guises, they have received some attention in secondary sources but have failed so far to receive a detailed and exhaustive examination of the part they played in late medieval warfare. The present article seeks to remedy this gap by an account of the origins of the term and those related to it, an examination of the tasks undertaken by coureurs, the men who filled their ranks, and the kinds of armor and weaponry they adopted. A central issue is whether they formed a discrete body within a late medieval army or were primarily defined by the roles they undertook. Contemporary accounts and later commentators do not always provide definitive answers to these questions. Nevertheless, clear categories of activity can be determined from existing sources, as well as conclusions relating to personnel and equipment. Finally, the article considers what happened to coureurs and how their functions were replaced by a more clearly defined light cavalry in subsequent centuries. The sources for the Hundred Years War, particularly chronicle sources, contain hundreds of references to horsemen known as coureurs. Yet, they are not included in Philippe Contamine’s index of the 178 different sub-classifications of combatants in Guerre, état, et société à la fin du Moyen Age, nor mentioned in his War in the Middle Ages. Clifford J. Rogers has briefly addressed their role in both Soldiers’ Lives through History: The Middle Ages, and “By Fire and Sword,” while Anthony Goodman has summarized the part played by “fore rydars” and “scourers,” their English counterparts, in The Wars of the Roses.2 1

2

I would like to thank Clifford J. Rogers for his comments on an earlier version of this paper, and for his kindness in granting access to his forthcoming article, “The Role of Cavalry in Medieval Warfare,” due to appear in the Journal of Military History. Philippe Contamine, Guerre, état et société à la fin du moyen age: Etudes sur les armées des rois de France, 1337–1494 (Paris, 1972). Philippe Contamine, War in the Middle Ages, trans. Michael Jones (Oxford, 1984). Clifford J. Rogers, Soldiers’ Lives Through History: The Middle Ages (Westport, CT, 2007), pp. 84–85. Clifford J. Rogers, “By Fire and Sword: Bellum Hostile and ‘Civilians’ in the Hundred Years War,” in Clifford J.

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Otherwise coureurs are seldom mentioned in secondary works. Indeed, a full examination of what the word coureur meant, who these soldiers were, and just what they did has not yet been undertaken. Charles Oman considered that the French had no light cavalry until the Italian Wars (1494–1529) when chevau-légers developed following contact with Venetian stradiots.3 However, the French and English had experienced génétaires or jinetes, Spanish light horsemen based on those of Moorish origin, during the 1360s, while the Nicopolis campaign of 1396 had brought contact with Turkish and other light cavalry.4 Moreover, light horsemen, such as coustilliers and mounted archers, were an intrinsic part of the fifteenth-century lance unit, although it has generally been assumed that they did not operate independently, and, as at Seminara (1495) and Fornovo (1495) charged with the heavy cavalry.5 However, gros valets, who were essentially synonymous with coustilliers, clearly had a tactical role, and were used in the plans for mounted enveloping

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Rogers and Mark Grimsley eds. Civilians in the Path of War (London, 2002), pp. 37, 66, n. 21. Anthony Goodman, The Wars of The Roses, Military Activity and English Society 1452–1497 (London, 1981), pp. 176–80. Charles Oman, A History of the Art of War in the Sixteenth Century (London, 1937), p. 41. David Potter, Renaissance France at War, Armies, Culture and Society, c. 1480–1560 (Woodbridge, 2008), pp. 86–88, on the development of light horse in France. Gilbert John Millar, “The Albanians: Sixteenth-Century Mercenaries,” History Today, 26 (1976), 468–72: The stradiots were Albanian and Greek horsemen who served Venice in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The name is probably from the Italian strada, “one who wanders the roads,” as most were Christian exiles displaced by the Turks. They were armed and rode in a similar fashion to the jinetes and carried the lancegay. Their usefulness as light cavalry was quickly recognized, and they were recruited into several European armies, including that of Henry VIII (1545): Gilbert John Millar, Tudor Mercenaries and Auxiliaries, 1485–1547 (Charlottesville, 1980), p. 133. Jean Froissart, Les Chroniques de Sire Jean Froissart, ed. J. A. C. Buchon, 3 vols. (Paris, 1879), 1:514, 1:533, 1:533, n. 2. The Spaniards adopted the same type of light cavalry as their Moorish opponents, using the same weapons and tactics. Victor Gay, Glossaire archéologique du Moyen Age et de la Renaissance, 2 vols. (Paris, 1887), 1:770–71: They were called génétaires or genitors: “cavaliers armés à la légère et montés sur genets, petits chevaux du pays,” taking their name partly from the horse and partly from their weapon, the génétaire, which was essentially the lancegay. They were common in the armies of Castile. Their horses were resistant to fatigue and they rode with a flatter saddle, shorter stirrups and bended knee, a fashion known as “chevaucher à la genette” a style of riding which became very popular. The normal mode of riding for men-at-arms with the legs extended and slightly forward was called à la brida, being designed to deliver and resist the impact of the couched lance: Noel Fallows, Jousting in Medieval and Renaissance Iberia (Woodbridge, 2010), pp. 272–75. F. L. Taylor, The Art of War in Italy 1494–1529 (1921; repr. Westport, 1973), pp. 69–76, notes the separate standing of the jinetes in Spain. Contamine, War in the Middle Ages, pp. 128–129, on the emergence of light cavalry. The coustillier was a mounted fighting auxiliary within the lance unit, originally a swordsman or coutilier but later a partially armored light horseman whose principal weapon was the lancegay or javelin, a light thrusting lance which could, when required, be used in the arrêt de cuirasse. Coustilliers feature prominently in the fifteenth-century French and Burgundian ordinances.



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attacks at both Othée (1408) and Agincourt (1415).6 Furthermore, on numerous occasions, together with experienced lightly-armed men-at-arms, coustilliers and mounted archers acted as coureurs to form flexible combat groups designated for particular operations. In fact, late medieval coureurs were, in many ways, already fulfilling the light cavalry role summarized by the Elizabethan military historian Roger Williams as: chieflie in marching of great marches…to surprise Companies a farre off in their lodgings, or marches; likewise to defeat conuoyes [convoys], & to conduct conuoyes…to spoyle necessaries that come to furnish their enemies, & to conduct necessaries to furnish their own campe or service…also to scout and discover… likewise both to conduct & spoile foragers.7

Louis Nolan’s nineteenth-century treatise on cavalry considered that lightly-­ equipped riders performed the most valuable service in the field, that of ensuring the safety of the army, a task which required “particular qualities in both leaders and men.”8 Late medieval coureurs performed all these activities, and when necessary fought on foot. This article intends to explore who coureurs were; how they were mounted and armed; the tasks undertaken and how they were executed; and to determine whether they represented a particular category of soldier or were defined more by the roles they performed. Terminology and its Problems Rogers has observed that the word coureur cannot be satisfactorily translated into English and depending on its context might refer to “foragers, raiders, outriders, or pillagers,” noting that “these men had duties including, but not limited to, reconnaissance.”9 Pope and Lodge, in Life of the Black Prince, define coureur as “a light horseman acting as a scout or skirmisher,” emphasizing the dual role.10 The term is thought to derive from the Latin currere, (French courir), meaning to run as with English courier, of which corour and currour are Middle English variants.11 However, while coureurs could carry messages, the term usually refers to the mounted scouts or outriders, who preceded a

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Clifford J. Rogers, “The Battle of Agincourt” in The Hundred Years War (Part II), Different Vistas, ed. L. J. Andrew Villalon and Donald J. Kagay (Leiden, 2008), pp. 60–61. Sir Roger Williams, “A Briefe Discourse of Warre” (London, 1590) in The Works of Sir Roger Williams ed. John X. Evans (Oxford, 1972), pp. 30–31. Louis Edward Nolan, Cavalry, Its History and Tactics (1854; repr. Yardley, 2007), pp. 40–44. Rogers, “By Fire and Sword,” p. 66, n. 21. Rogers, Soldiers’ Lives, p. 84. Life of the Black Prince by the Herald of Sir John Chandos, ed. and trans. Mildred K. Pope and Eleanor C. Lodge (Oxford, 1910), p. 224. The Compact Edition of the Oxford English Dictionary, 2 vols. (Oxford, 1971), 1:1086 gives the same definition. The Works of Sir Thomas Malory, ed. Eugène Vinaver, 3 vols. (Oxford, 1967), 1:465–66, where “corroure” is used for a messenger.

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medieval army to reconnoiter the terrain, gain intelligence, forage, and skirmish with the enemy. The word is closely associated with the English “scourer,” first documented in the Alliterative Morte Arthure (ca. 1400) as skouerour, deriving from Old French descouvreor/descovreor, to uncover or explore the surrounding countryside.12 A double meaning is possible as “scourers” also “scoured” the countryside for forage. “Escurynge,” meaning reconnoitring by horsemen, is used in the fifteenth century Knyghthode and Bataile.13 Other English words, essentially synonymous with coureur, include “fore-rider” and “pricker” “For rydar” first appears in Harry’s Wallace (ca. 1470), also occurring in The Arrivall (ca. 1471): “and sent afore hym his for-rydars, and scorars, on every syde hym.”14 “Pricker” is a much older term, deriving from Old English prician [Middle English prikken], meaning to spur a horse or ride fast.15 “Pricker” was current from the mid-fourteenth century onwards, being defined in the same way as “currour,” to denote a light horseman employed as skirmisher or scout. The word was first used in this sense in Piers Ploughman (1362) with a Gallophobic reference to the sinister “proud pricker of France,” who, in true coureur fashion, will use wiles to tempt Anima, the soul, from the safety of her castle.16 The first English manifestation of “currour” in the military sense occurs in Lord Berners’ translation of Froissart (1523), being used subsequently by Edward Hall (1548) and Roger Williams (1617).17 Apart from the native term “pricker,” coureur and its English equivalents appear quite late in our language. By contrast, the thirteenth-century Chronique d’Ernoul has an early reference to coureur, describing: “li coureur Sarrasin,” who approach within a bow-shot of the royal lodgings, and to descouvreur, used as a noun to describe scouts, who reconnoiter the countryside to ensure that the Saracens were not lying in ambush. They return to inform the king that all was clear: “il avoit envoiiés ses descouvreurs pour descouvrir les pais…quant li descouvreur le roi furent venu, et il fisent asavoir qu’il n’avoient nului veu.”18 12 13

14

15 16 17

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Compact OED, 2:2676. Knyghthode and Bataile, ed. R Dyboski and Z. M. Arend, Early English Text Society (London, 1935), p. 50, l.1360: “Escurynge is to have of every cooste.” Also p. 58, ll.1566– 67: “And twyce a day the contrey was escured/ By horsmen, in the morn and aftir noon.” Historie of the Arrivall of Edward IV. 1471, ed. John Bruce, in Three Chronicles of the Reign of Edward IV, ed. Keith Dockray (Gloucester, 1988), p. 28. Compact OED, 1:1054: fore-rider, one who rides in front, a scout or outrider. Vinaver, Malory, 1:26: “sente forthe before the foreryders.” Friedrich W. D. Brie, ed. The Brut or The Chronicles of England in 2 pts. (London, 1908), 2:580: “And when the horsemen sawe thaire tyme, they soddenly prikkit to hem.” Compact OED 2:2296. William Langland, Piers Ploughman (1362), B. IX. 1–24. Compact OED, 1:582. Edward Hall, The Union of The Two Noble and Illustre Famelies of Lancastre and Yorke (London, 1548), p. 299: “he dispatched certain currers on light horses.” Evans, Works of Sir Roger Williams, p. 93, “untill his Curriers should meete his enemies.” Chronique d’Ernoul et de Bernard l’Trésorier, ed. M. L. de Mas Latrie (Paris, 1871), pp. 358–59. Frédéric Godefroy ed. Dictionnaire de l’ancienne langue française, 10 vols. (Paris, 1880–1902), 2:570.



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Here “li coreor” is given as a variant for “li descouvreur,” something which also occurs in Le Jouvencel (ca. 1466), demonstrating that the words could be interchangeable and underlining the close association between the two activities.19 Thus Froissart: “envoyèrent leurs coureurs découvrir,” “à courir pour découvrir les Anglois,” and “ nos découvreurs et coureurs.”20 However, as the last phrase implies, while the words were often synonymous there could also be a discernable difference as armed coureurs might act in support of scouts. There are several occasions in Le Jouvencel, where the scouts go first, supported by armed coureurs ready to intervene if the enemy was sighted: “il mist descouvreurs de payz devant, et aprez eulx il mist fors courreurs.” Similarly, “qu’il fault descouvreurs de pays. Apres il y fault courreurs.”21 Although Jean de Bueil’s Le Jouvencel is a didactic semi-fictional roman à clef, it has much to say on military matters, “belles doctrines de guerre, that has yet to be fully explored.”22 De Bueil refers to two distinct types of coureur: those acting as scouts, who traversed the countryside in search of useful information or forage, and light horsemen grouped together for specific combat roles. Coureurs deployed as scouts were unarmored and expected to fight only in their own defense. They were to travel stealthily and keep a low profile, so that, if they were seen, their presence would not trouble the enemy.23 Night-time was often considered best for their clandestine role, as recommended in Knyghthode and Bataile where “escurynge” was to be done by the “wittiest on wightiest hors by nyght.”24 They were closely associated with spies, who were regularly brigaded with coureurs: “ses espies et ses coureurs,” “leurs espies et coureurs,” and “spies and courours.”25 At night, Poton de Xaintrailles sent out “ses espies et ses coureurs pour enquérie des nouvelles du pays et des ennemis.”26 Similarly, “le nuit pardevant avoit envoie ses espies et coureurs pour savoir le convenant

19 20 21 22

23

24 25

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Jean de Bueil, Le Jouvencel, ed. C. Favre and L. Lecestre, 2 vols. (Paris, 1887–89), 1:159; 1:159, n. 2: “il y ait des descouvreurs de pais,” has coureurs as a variant. Froissart, Chroniques, 1:295; 2:17; 3:261. Le Jouvencel, 2:192; 2:35. Ibid., 2:14. Matthieu Chan Tsin, “Medieval Romances and Military History: Marching Orders in Jean de Bueil’s Le Jouvencel introduit aux armes,” Journal of Medieval Military History 7 (2009), p. 127: Jean de Bueil, an experienced French commander in the later Hundred Years War, wrote Le Jouvencel in retirement as a teaching tool for future knights. Le Jouvencel, 1:147–49. Chan Tsin, “Marching Orders in Le Jouvencel,” p. 130, translates “gens desarmez” as being without weapons. However, a few paragraphs later de Bueil states that while coureurs deployed as scouts should not initiate combat, they should be capable of defending themselves when attacked, which suggests that desarmez means without armor. Knyghthode and Bataile, p. 50, ll. 1361–62. “Wightiest” meaning strongest. Froissart, Chroniques, 1:230. La chronique d’Enguerran de Monstrelet, ed. L. Douet d’Arcq, Société de l’histoire de France, 6 vols. (Paris, 1857–1862), 1:102. The First English Life of King Henry the Fifth, ed. Charles Lethbridge Kingsford (Oxford, 1911), p. 50. Georges Chastellain, Oeuvres, ed. Kervyn de Lettenhove, 8 vols. (Brussels, 1863–1866), 2:125: “envoyoit celle nuit dehors ses espies et coureurs.”

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de ses annemies.”27 Once again, the positioning of coureurs within the phraseology suggests that their primary task was to provide mounted support, so that the spies could rally upon them if threatened. However, sometimes the roles appear synonymous, as when the “scorers” and “forryders,” who precipitate the evacuation of Newark in 1471 are labeled “les espies du roy Edouard” in Jean de Waurin’s account of the episode.28 De Bueil delineates the various tasks which coureurs organized into battle groups might be expected to perform: riding ahead of the army to sally unexpectedly upon villages and towns; drawing a stronger force from a fortified position into an ambush; preventing hostile outriders from assessing the army’s dispositions; disordering the enemy by skirmishing or charging them whenever a suitable opportunity arises; in addition to raiding their camps and stealing their horses.29 All those engaged in these activities, according to Le Jouvencel, are considered coureurs, “sont nommés coureurs.” Thus, the two to three hundred “chevaulx legièrement habilliez” assembled to ride quickly across the meadows and steal the enemy horses in the valley of Vausselle “ceux-là ont nom coureurs.”30 Unfortunately, de Bueil’s terminology, like that of other contemporary writers, is inconsistent and confusing. In addition to coureurs, there are: avantcoureurs, descouvreurs, gardigeurs, espies, estradeurs, guettes, escoutes, chevauchers, guides, hommes desarmez, and hommes legièrs, whose roles are often interchangeable.31 Avant-coureurs, sometimes called “les premiers coureurs,” usually preceded the vanguard, as opposed to the arrière coureurs, who protected the rear.32 However, when coureurs were used as a strike force, the size of the group often required that it was furnished with its own fore-riders or avant-coureurs. The term occurs much later than coureur, with Godefroy’s first reference coming from the fourteenth century, where they are mounted scouts.33 Sometimes this distinction is preserved as when the fifteenth-century Livre des trahisons notes that while Burgundian avant-coureurs first sight the 27 28 29

30 31 32 33

Jehan de Waurin, Recueil des croniques et anchiennes istories de la Grant Bretaigne, ed. W. Hardy and E. L. C. P. Hardy, 5 vols., Rolls Series (London, 1864–1891), 2:62. Ibid., 5:649; compare The Arrivall, pp. 7–8. Le Jouvencel, 1:149–150: “que l’on envoye courre devant une place pour faire saillir ceulx de dedans dehors; ou sur ung ost, quant il est fortiffié; ou sur gens qui sont les plus fors, pour eulx faire chaser; ou en une escarmouche, pour mettre ses gens en desaroy, ou pour chargier à leur advantaige quant ilz le treuvent; ceux-cy sont nommés coureurs.” 2:35: “Qu’ilz reboutent les courreurs des ennemyz qu’ilz ne voient vostre convine et vostre puissance.” Ibid., 1:150. Ibid., 2:242. Jean Cabaret d’Orville La chronique du bon duc Loys de Bourbon, ed. A. M. Chazaud (Paris, 1876), pp. 43, 298. Istore et croniques de Flandres, ed. Kervyn de Lettenhove, 2 vols. (Brussels, 1879), 2:242– 43: “les avant coureurs du conte,” are sent to find the Ghentish positions “pour savoir l’ordonnance.” Godefroy, Complément, p. 248, avantcourir, later meaning to ride in front or skirmish. The Compact OED, 1:145 gives the first English reference as 1603.



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French at Montlhéry (1465), the experienced men-at-arms chosen to skirmish with the enemy are called coureurs.34 Molinet (1474-1504), however, documents avant-coureurs both as scouts uncovering ambushes but also performing the same roles as coureurs: skirmishing, burning villages, and taking prisoners.35 While Chastellain places the avant-coureurs immediately before the avantgarde in the order of battle at Oudenaarde (1452).36 Le Jouvencel considered that the outriders, who guarded the flanks and rear of the army should be called gardigeurs, i.e. watchmen or look-outs, rather than coureurs, who seem to have had a more aggressive role. However, this is the only occasion where the word appears in medieval French and the distinction was not observed by other writers, nor by the author himself.37 Estradeurs, or skirmishers, from estrade meaning both a skirmish and a route, also known as batteurs d’estrades or coureurs de fortune, acted in a similar manner to coureurs.38 Hence, “quinze ou vingt estradeurs courir sus les champs,” and “quatre estradeurs sur le pays” observe those entering the town of “Crathor” (Sablé).39 They gained a dubious reputation, becoming associated with pillaging and highway robbery.40 Waurin uses the term to refer to Queen Margaret’s fore-riders, who head towards Shaftesbury.41 However, by the late fifteenth century estradeurs seem to have become synonymous with estradiots, the Greek and Albanian light cavalrymen employed by Venice during the Italian Wars.42 A chevaucher or rider, one usually engaged in a military expedition, was also synonymous with coureur. Bertrand du Guesclin sends “ses coruers chevaucher,” who a few lines later are described as “des chevauchers” to search for the English.43 At Othée (1408),

34

35 36 37

38 39 40

41 42 43

“Le Livre des trahisons de France,” in Chroniques relative à l’histoire de la Belgique sous la domination des ducs de Bourgogne, ed. Kervyn de Lettenhove, 3 vols. (Brussels, 1873), 2: 240–41, “habilles et duis de guerre, montés à l’avantaige.” Chroniques de Jean Molinet, ed. J. A. Buchon, 5 vols. (Paris, 1827–28), 1:80; 1:122; 2:71; 4:78. Chastellain, Oeuvres, 2:242–43: “le comte d’Estampes fist ses ordonnances d’avantcoureurs, d’avant-garde, de bataille, d’arrière-garde.” The literary term is hapax, as noted in Jean de Bueil, Le Jouvencel, trans. Craig Taylor and Jane H. M. Taylor (Woodbridge, 2020), p. 16. Le Jouvencel, 2:35, where those guarding the wings are called “des courreurs.” Godefroy, Dictionnaire, 3:635. Pierre Jannet, ed. Oeuvres complètes de François Villon (Paris, 1867), pp. 154, 242. Le Jouvencel, 1:114; 1:103. Godefroy, Dictionnaire, 3:635–36, cites Froissart, Chron., XI.205, Kerv. “ung homme d’armes de Berne, grant pillart et fort estradeur.” The Poitiers Register for 1436: “estradeurs et autres larrons qui vont espiant les chemins. Waurin, Recueil des croniques, 5:666: “envoyerent leurs estadeurs droit a Chastelbury.” The Arrivall, pp. 24–25: “sent theyr aforerydars streight from Excestar to Shaftesbery” Molinet, Chroniques, 5:41: “les estradeurs de l’ost Vénitiens estoient moult estranges, fort barbuz, et sans armures et sans chausses.” Chronique de Bertrand du Guesclin par Cuvelier, ed. E. Charrière, 2 vols. (Paris, 1839), 1:392–93. During the siege of Marck (1404), Waurin 2:96 refers to “espies et chevaulcheurs,” while Monstrelet 1:102 has “espies et coureurs.”

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John the Fearless sent 200 chevauchers forward to ascertain the formation of the Liégois, subsequently referring to them as “nos coureurs.”44 However, on numerous occasions, de Bueil, and other writers describe tasks that are clearly within the remit of coureurs but where the participants have no specific title. Coureurs are, therefore, defined more by what they do than by any particular nomenclature. Thus, the dozen unarmored horsemen ordered to scout ahead, followed by twenty lances charged with keeping enemy estradeurs at bay, and those riding (chevaucher) on the flanks to prevent the enemy from ascertaining the strength of the host are, according to Le Jouvencel’s definition, all effectively coureurs.45 As are the well-mounted men-at-arms who surround Bedford’s army to see off the French outriders during the preliminaries to Verneuil (1424).46 Clifford Rogers rightly considers that coureurs were responsible for most of the devastation caused in Edward III’s 1346 campaign, as stated in the Istore et croniques de Flandres.47 However, other writers, such as Froissart and Jean le Bel, don’t mention coureurs by that name in their account of these events, although the modus operandi of the troops involved is identical.48 Thus, while there is a risk of circularity in delineating coureurs by the tasks they performed, it is implicit within the broad sweep of de Bueil’s definition, as mentioned above. Medieval writers tended to expect their audience to have some knowledge of military matters and to be sufficiently intimate with the details to fill in the gaps, while de Bueil, a professional warrior, “makes few concessions to the ordinary reader.”49 When the term coureur is used, it is often with a degree of latitude, but there could clearly be a more specific sense as authors did not consider it redundant to refer to both “découvreurs et coureurs” and “espies et coureurs.” This suggests that the word had a technical sense as well as a common usage, something which Jean de Bueil, whose work was largely aimed at military professionals, was at pains to explain.50 44

45 46 47 48

49 50

Monstrelet, La chronique, 1:357. Bertrand Schnerb, “La bataille rangée dans la tactique des armées bourguignonnes au début de 15e siècle,” Annales de Bourgogne 61 (1989), pp. 11–12, p. 12, n.1. Froissart, Chroniques, 2:481. Le Jouvencel, 2:128. Waurin, Recueil des croniques, 3:104–05. Rogers, Soldiers’ Lives, p. 84. Istore et croniques de Flandres, 2:22–23; 2:40; 2:57–58; 2:61. The results, however, were the same: Chronique de Jean Le Bel, ed. Jules Viard and Eugène Depréz, 2 vols. (Paris, 1904–1905), 2:78: “courue et robée partout,” 2:84: “toute robée et courue.” Taylor and Taylor, Le Jouvencel, p. 15. Ibid., pp. 15–16, note that Le Jouvencel was in large part a didactic military treatise and consider that de Bueil was attempting to outline a specialist military vocabulary, which makes translating him “unusually demanding.” They have endeavored to mirror his attention to detail by trying to select English equivalents for specific military terms to explain, for example, the distinction between gardigeurs and coureurs, p. 86. This has introduced a source of confusion and the rendering of “ranger” for coureur seems insufficiently descriptive. Rogers in “By Fire and Sword,” p. 66, n. 21, decided to retain the original French term while explaining its meaning could vary according to context.



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Who were considered coureurs? Coureurs, whether acting as scouts, or as a group designated for skirmish operations or reconnaissance in force, usually consisted of well-mounted elite men-at-arms, who were in the latter situations accompanied by their “valets de guerre” and mounted auxiliaries. The riders who approached Ribemont (1373), for example, were noted by the French to be eighty English “gens d’armes coureurs.”51 Far from being lower-status alternatives to men-at-arms, the horsemen assigned to coureur duties were often “les plus expers montez sur fleurs de chevaulz,” and considered “la fleur et le bruit de votre compagnie.”52 The forty French coureurs sent to assess the strength and dispositions of the English before Verneuil (1424) were “des plus expers de leur ost et les mieux montés,”53 Similarly, Henry VII’s fore-riders for the 1487 campaign were selected from the pick of his household knights.54 Companies of such coureurs usually contained several nobles, one of whom would be in command, adding strength, experience and direction to the force. Froissart names the nine noble captains who commanded the 200 lances of coureurs during the duke of Normandy’s expedition into Hainault (1340), and the eight noblemen who led 40 lances of coureurs in the attack on the French camp near “Pont de Tressin” (1340).55 The Captal de Buch and his colleagues were selected as the elite “coureurs du prince,” before Poitiers (1356),56 while the French coureurs sent to locate the army of the Black Prince were commanded by the two marshals, who rode back in person to report their findings to the king.57 Similarly, of the cavalry force designed to surprise the English at Harfleur (1415) the coureurs “estoient pluiseurs nobles hommes,” including the seigneur de L’Isle Adam.58 While 120 “hommes d’armes” were selected as coureurs as part of the force raised by Jacques de Harcourt to attack the English besieging Rouen (1418).59 The famous Jacques de Lalaing, Robert de Miraument, “et autres gentilz hommes,” were the coureurs at Oudenaarde (1452).60 The former, in fact, was frequently placed in charge of the coureurs during the wars with Ghent.61

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Froissart, Chroniques, 1:680. Waurin, Recueil de chroniques, 3:297. Chastellain, Oeuvres, 2:275. Monstrelet, La chronique, 4:189. Goodman, Wars of the Roses, p. 177. Froissart, Chroniques, 1:97; 1:121. Ibid., 1:340. Chronique des quatre premiers Valois (1327–1393), ed. Siméon Luce (Paris, 1861), p. 51. Chronique de Jean le Fèvre, Seigneur de Saint-Rémy ed. François Morand, Société de l’histoire de France, 2 vols. (Paris, 1876–1881), 1:230. Ibid., 1:353–54. Chronique de Mathieu d’Escouchy, ed. G. Du Fresne de Beaucourt, 3 vols., Société de l’histoire de France (Paris, 1863–1864), 1:392–93: The 40 or 50 combatants ordered to “courre devant le siegge,” are referred to as “iceulx coureurs.” Ibid., 1:390. Chastellain, Oeuvres, 2:243; 2:261; 2:253; 2:269: when the Burgundians

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Although troops such as hobelars or mounted archers might act as scouts, experienced men-at-arms were preferred for several reasons. It was crucial that the information brought back by the coureurs was reliable as the fate of the army depended upon it. Hesitant or ill-disciplined coureurs or those, such as mounted infantry, who were insufficiently equipped to risk a cavalry fight, might avoid too close an approach to a powerful enemy, or resort to pillaging at the slightest opportunity, a fear expressed by Bertrand du Guesclin: “I think you’re too daunted by the English-you’re good at rooting out chests and coffers stuffed full of jewels to pillage but finding the English and fighting’s another matter.”62 Du Guesclin prefaced his remarks by stating that, if he were a coureur, the Captal de Buch would have already been found.63 In fact, many leaders such as Richard the Lionheart and Joan of Arc preferred either to go on patrol themselves or ride out to confirm the findings of the scouts.64 Moreover, even experienced common soldiers were likely to be tempted by plunder, whereas men-at-arms could better afford to choose duty over profit, as did William Marshal when he refused to jeopardize the reconnaissance mission at Le Mans (1189).65 Furthermore, despite the misty conditions, Marshal refused to report back until he was close enough to ascertain the composition of the enemy force. In contrast at Nicopolis (1396), the coureurs failed to report accurately on the size of the Turkish host, returning as soon as the vanguard was sighted, because they dared ride no further and were not experienced men-at-arms.66 Coureurs required both knowledge and the nerve to get close enough to the enemy to identify formations and dispositions, estimate the number of battles, the distance between them, and count and recognize individual banners and pennons. In other words “aviser justement et clairement l’ordonnance et contenement” of their opponents, noting the size of the avant-garde, the main battle, whether all the horsemen were armed “de pied en cap,” the weapons carried, and the presence of fortifications.67 This was not an easy task as banners, pennons, spears and lances were often deliberately lowered when men-at-arms approached the

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attacked Nivelle (1452), “le Seigneur de Saveuses, Messier Gauvain Quieret, le Seigneur de Dreuil” and other renowned soldiers “furent des coureurs.” Cuvelier, 1:156. The Song of Bertrand du Guesclin, trans. Nigel Bryant (Woodbridge, 2019), p. 106. Cuvelier, 1:156: “se je eusse couru.” John Gillingham, “William the Bastard at War,” in Anglo-Norman Warfare ed. Matthew Strickland (Woodbridge, 1992), p. 156. John Gillingham, “War and Chivalry in the History of William Marshal,” in Anglo-Norman Warfare ed. Matthew Strickland (Woodbridge, 1992), p. 259. M. Boucher de Molandon and Adalbert de Beaucorps, L’Armée anglaise vaincue par Jeanne d’Arc sous les murs d’Orléans (Orléans and Paris, 1892), p. 75. History of William Marshal, trans. Nigel Bryant (Woodbridge, 2016), pp. 115–17. Marshal’s biography was written ca. 1220, just a few years after his death. Froissart, Chroniques, 3:261: “ils ne chevauchèrent plus avant, ou ils n’osèrent, ou ils n’étoient pas hommes d’armes de sage emprise.” Ibid., 1:364: “considéré le convine de François, bannières et pennons et quel quantité ils étoient.” 2:425; 2:481.



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opposition, both to avoid detection and prevent their numbers being assessed.68 If a town was to be reconnoitered details of its defenses were to be obtained and an assessment made as to whether it could be taken by siege or assault.69 Thus, the Scottish coureurs who estimated the English host as consisting only of “three banners and ten pennons” were instrumental in the defeat and capture of Sir Thomas Musgrave (1377). Similarly, of the three coureurs sent to investigate “l’ordonnance et contenement des Espaignols” before Aljubarrota (1385), two were English squires “apperts hommes d’armes.”70 Obtaining information while actually skirmishing with the enemy required considerable skill, such as that possessed by the Burgundian, Robert de Miraumont, who, “froit et soubstil en la guerre,” reported on the Ghentish dispositions at Oudenarde (1452).71 Information might also be gained by conversing with or listening to the enemy, which required knowledge of their language. Those of higher social status were more likely to possess this faculty, as when one of du Guesclin’s men-at-arms, acting as a coureur, mingled with the English to enquire who commanded the avant-garde.72 The principal considerations that made it important to have skilled and wellequipped men-at-arms serving as coureurs also made it a prestigious role. The two French squires chosen as coureurs before Aljubarrota were both knighted before they set out.73 It also meant that men-at-arms riding ahead of the main army would have greater opportunities to distinguish themselves. Consequently, many noble men-at-arms were keen to act as coureurs as the principal activities of scouting and foraging regularly brought them into contact with the enemy. As a recent study in this journal has argued, many skirmishes resulted from scouting or foraging actions, and skirmish warfare provided the desiderata of breaking a lance with their opponents and demonstrating prowess before their peers in an environment usually free from the hazards of gunpowder weapons.74 However, skirmish warfare was not without risks and could take a significant toll among the higher ranks, with “many good souldiers cast awaie,” as well as proving detrimental to the horses.75

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Cuvelier, p. 392. Froissart, Chroniques, 1:579. Ibid., 2:17; 2:425. 706 Chronique de Mathieu D’Escouchy, 1:392–93. Cuvelier, ll.392–93. Bernard S. Bachrach and David S. Bachrach, Medieval Warfare in Europe c.400–c.1453 (Oxford, 2017), p. 354, on the need for scouts to possess “extensive language skills.” Froissart, Chroniques, 2:424–25. Ronald W. Braasch III, “The Skirmish: A Statistical Analysis of Minor Combats during the Hundred Years War, 1337–1453,” Journal of Medieval Military History 16 (2018), pp, 137–141, foraging resulted in skirmishing 70% of the time and “nobles, even high-ranking ones, commonly fought in them.” Rogers, Soldiers’ Lives, pp. 84–85: even kings were keen to lead these detachments. Thomas Audley and the Tudor “Arte of Warre,” ed. Jonathan Davies (Surrey, 2002), p. 24. Waurin, Recueil de chroniques, 3:363, and Monstrelet, La chronique, 4:391, 5:245,

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Indeed, the significant numbers of nobles and men-at-arms within these groups had advantages and disadvantages. The presence of experienced men-atarms within a coureurs battle group enabled it to act independently, and judge when to engage the enemy, effect an orderly withdrawal, or hold their own until support arrived. Moreover, their participation as coureurs might suggest the presence of a strong force, which could deceive the enemy about the army’s direction of march, as when Queen Margaret feinted towards Shaftesbury with her estradeurs, while the main Lancastrian body headed for Taunton and Glastonbury.76 However, the unexpected presence of large groups of armed men alerted the enemy to an impending attack. At Nottingham, Edward IV “sent the scorers alabowte the counties adioynynge to aspie and serche yf any gaderyngs were in any place agynst hym.” Some came to Newark, held by the duke of Exeter and earl of Oxford “with great fellowshipe,” who seeing the king’s “forryders were about the town,” hastily withdrew believing that his “hole host” was about to come upon them.77 Le Jouvencel argued that, in certain circumstances, it was better to proceed without coureurs, as when the intention was to engage the enemy whatever their strength or to raise a siege, or when it didn’t matter if the presence of an armed force was revealed.78 Coureurs, particularly when deployed in large numbers, needed to act with care. In de Bueil’s semi-fictional narrative when coureurs of the French rearguard catch sight of those of “le duc Baudouyn,” the French rapidly decamp and seek the safety of Crathor. Baudouyn’s plan for a night attack was thwarted because his coureurs failed to proceed with caution.79 Furthermore, the capture of large numbers of noblemen acting as coureurs might jeopardize an entire expedition. Thus, when the duke of Burgundy prepared a substantial relief force to try and lift the siege of Arras (1414), the capture of Athes and Jacques de Brémeu, Louis de Bussi, and other important men-at-arms, who were acting as coureurs, alerted the French to an imminent

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give details of the notable Burgundians killed in minor actions at Compiègne and the wounding of La Hire with an arrow at Calais. Jean Chartier, Chronique de Charles VII, roi de France, ed. Vallet de Viriville, 3 vols. (Paris, 1858), 1:75–76: Joan of Arc preferred to do her own reconnaissance and was addicted to skirmishing on horseback, activities which eventually led to her capture when she failed to retreat in time. Andrew Ayton, Knights and Warhorses: Military Service and the English Aristocracy under Edward III (Woodbridge, 1999), p. 72: “many of the horse fatalities from combat arose from skirmishes rather than set piece battles.” Chronique de la Pucelle ou chronique de Cousinot, ed. M. A. Vallet de Viriville (repr. Geneva, 1976), p. 240: The Marshal of Saint-Sévère lost numerous horses in many great skirmishes. Waurin, Recueil de chroniques, 5:666. The Arrivall, p. 25. Ibid., p. 8. Le Jouvencel, 1:149. Ibid., 2:92: “Mais les courreurs du duc Baudouyn adviserent le Jouvencel tellement qu’il fut sur sa garde et ne peust le duc Baudouyn riens faire. Et, pour ce, on ne doibt envoyer nulles gens devant, quant on va sur ses ennemyz, qui ne les envoye en tappinaige ou en manière qu’on ne les voye point.” 2:298, Commentaire, XXXVIII: the fictitious “duc Baudoyn” is a generic pseudonym for Henry VI’s lieutenants.



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attack, causing the whole enterprise to be abandoned.80 Similarly, at Harfleur (1415), L’Isle Adam and other French nobles were taken prisoner when their plan for a mounted ambush misfired. The loss of such prominent individuals as coureurs discouraged any further attempt to break the siege.81 Moreover, when coureurs, often considered an armed elite, ran into trouble, it was difficult not to attempt a rescue even in unfavorable conditions, as their loss would have devastating repercussions. At Nivelle (1452), when Burgundian coureurs, “the flower of the army,” became isolated during a Ghentish counter-attack, the Count of Étampes felt obliged to try to extricate them with an inadequate force. Only the intervention of the mounted coureurs of Antoine de Bourgogne, returning from the pursuit, prevented a disaster.82 Although the core body of coureurs tended to be men-at-arms, they were usually accompanied by their fighting auxiliaries, such as coustilliers, mounted archers and “valets de guerre,” as the frequent mention of lances of coureurs makes clear.83 These troops protected the men-at-arms and vice-versa. When men-at-arms were engaged in lance-armed combat, the more open helmets of the auxiliaries gave better vision than was possible through a closed visor, allowing them to anticipate and counter danger from the flanks and rear. Their lighter equipment also enabled them to mount and dismount more easily which was important when foraging, taking prisoners, pillaging, or setting fire to villages and towns. In English armies “mixed retinues” of men-at-arms and mounted archers, armed with secondary weapons, participated in raids, harassment, skirmishing, and pursuit, superseding hobelars in a light cavalry role.84 Two days before Cravant (1423) the Anglo-Burgundians organized a joint observation corps of 120 men-at-arms and as many archers “chevaulcheroient…pour descouvrir devant.”85 The lower-status troops who served alongside men-at-arms acting as coureurs were themselves also considered coureurs. The Anglo-Gascon coureurs who 80 81 82 83

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Monstrelet, La chronique, 3:29–30. Le Fèvre, Chronique, 1:176. Le Fèvre, Chronique,1:230–31. Chastellain, Oeuvres, 2:269–76. Froissart, Chroniques, 1:97: The coureurs sent into Hainault by the duke of Normandy, “étoient bien deux cents lances.” 1:121: “les coureurs, qui pouvoient être quarante lances.” Molinet, Chroniques, 1:122, at Neuss “cinquante lances des avant-coureurs” skirmish with the Imperial troops. Contamine, War in the Middle Ages, pp. 126–29: The number of effectives within a lance group depended on nationality and tended to increase over time. “Gros valets” were mentioned from the 1380s, and in France, in addition to the man-at-arms and coustillier, mounted archers were included from the beginning of the fifteenth century. Anne Curry, “Guns and Goddams: Was there a Military Revolution in Lancastrian Normandy 1415–1450?” Journal of Medieval Military History 8 (2010), p. 180. Robert Jones, “Re-thinking the Origins of the ‘Irish’ hobelar,” Cardiff Historical Papers, ed. Jessica Horsley (Cardiff, 2008), p. 16. Adrian R. Bell, Anne Curry, Andy King, and David Simpkin, The Soldier in Later Medieval England (Oxford, 2013), p. 146: “One should not, of course, conclude that archers only ever used the bow. Their small arms allowed them to be involved in other forms of fighting.” Waurin, Recueil des croniques, 3:65. Schnerb, “La bataille rangée,” p. 12.

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burnt the suburbs of Bourges and Limoges and ravaged the countryside as far as Saint-Cloud in 1346 included considerable numbers of mounted archers.86 Jean Le Bel comments on the huge swathes of destruction carried out by an army with less than 1,500 men-at-arms. However, it seems that the accompanying archers were responsible for much of the damage and slaughter both at Caen and elsewhere.87 When the English broke off the siege of Orléans (1429), 100–120 French horsemen, acting as coureurs, were ordered to skirmish continually at their rear and ascertain their order of march.88 Some, however, advanced too far and were ambushed by the English rearguard. The captives included mounted archers and coustilliers, as well as men-at-arms, illustrating the mixed nature of the force involved in the pursuit.89 Mounted archers and coustilliers fought as coureurs at Escallon/Marchenoir (1427) where: “les courreurs, qui avoient corru devant la ville” included “tant archiers que coustilleurs.”90 At Overmaire (1452) the coureurs consisted of 25 lances and 80 archers, while those who accompanied Bernard de Scenon at Lugant (1501) were designated “archiers coureurs.”91 As coureurs, mounted archers performed a dual role, acting as auxiliaries to the men-at-arms, and providing fire support when necessary, especially when difficult terrain forced the party to dismount and fight on foot. Mounted auxiliaries were, therefore, an important component of the coureurs ensemble. How were coureurs mounted and armed? Coureurs needed to be mounted on strong, powerful horses, which were capable of both speed and endurance. Hence, they are usually described as “très bien montés sur fleur de roncins et de gros coursiers,” or “les plus expers montez sur fleurs de coursiers.”92 The coureurs of the Prince of Wales were “tantôt montés sur fleur de coursiers,” and “tous bien montés sur fleur de coursiers.”93 Coursers 86

87 88

89 90

91 92 93

Le Bel, Chronique, 2:76–77. Istore et croniques de Flandres, 2:40: “et envoia de ses coureurs jusques à Saint-Clou, et ainsi alla, tout le pays essillent par feu et par espée.” Rogers, “By Fire and Sword,” pp. 36–37. Le Bel, Chronique, 2:80–82: “veoient archiers qui tuoient gens sans deffense et sans pitié.” Le Jouvencel, 1:213: “escarmoucher tousjours à leurs dos et pour veoir leur convine.” Chastellain, Oeuvres, 2:347: coureurs were often sent to follow a retreating enemy to prevent them from making a stand. Le Jouvencel, 1:212–14, 1:214, n. 2. 2:91–92: Coustilliers and lightly armored men-at-arms often preceded the main force. Ibid., 2:18. Many episodes in Le Jouvencel closely mirror real events but with the names of places and persons changed, as is made clear in the introduction and in Tringant’s commentary. See Le Jouvencel, 1: XIII-XIV; 1:130, n.1; 2:271–72 for Escallon, considered to be Marchenoir. and 1:105–111; 1:109, n. 2 for Étrépagny. Chastellain, Oeuvres, 2:261. Jean d’Auton, Chroniques de Louis XII ed. R. De Maulde La Clavière, 4 vols. Société de l’histoire de France (Paris, 1889–1895), 2:115. Froissart, Chroniques, 1:121. Waurin, Recueil de chroniques, 3:297, where coursiers is a manuscript variant. Froissart, Chroniques, 1:340; 1:533; 2:99: “dix hommes d’armes…montés sur fleurs de coursiers.”



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were similar to the modern heavy hunter, being prized for “their strength, speed, and stamina.”94 Indeed, the very best horses enhanced the animal’s innate ability to combine speed with economy of movement.95 The rouncy (roncin) was a large service or general-purpose horse often used for war, considered to be “swift, strong and hardy,” ideal for the pursuit and “for rapid movement over rough terrain.”96 Good horses made rallying or escaping with news easier as it was possible to move away from the enemy at speed.97 Having pillaged the suburbs of SaintOmer (1346), the English coureurs quickly retreated to their own lines when faced with armed retaliation.98 Before Poitiers (1356), the English were short of supplies, but sixty coureurs, whose horses were considered up to the task, were sent to locate the enemy. Having found the French, despite being “assez lassés” from lack of fodder, the horses were sufficiently robust to out-distance their pursuers and reach safety.99 In addition to the skill of the men-at-arms, success in skirmish actions often went to the side whose horses were in better condition. Coureurs often rode considerable distances, and their horses, as well as having the speed to help them escape danger, had to possess enough stamina to enable them to return to the fray. This happened at Escallon/Marchenoir, where the coureurs, fleeing from the pursuit, turned round and joined in the main attack.100 The quality of the horses told at the “Pont de Tressin,” where although the coureurs initially galloped in the wrong direction, they retraced their steps while their mounts still had sufficient energy to charge the French in the flank.101 During the skirmishes before Barletta (1503) and Venoze, (1504) French coureurs, although pursued for a considerable distance by Spanish genitors, were able to regroup and return to the fighting, whereas the enemy mounts were completely blown.102 Livre des trahisons, 2:116, where a coureur is “monté sur ung gaillart coursier.” Ayton, Knights and Warhorses, pp. 23–24. Contamine, Guerre, état et société: coursers were often preferred for battle with many coming from Italy or Spain. H. C. B. Rogers, The Mounted Troops of the British Army (London, 1967), p. 28, the courser “denoted a fast and good jumping horse,” suitable for light cavalry. 95 BBC Radio 4 Podcast, In Our Time: The Evolution of Horses (February 2020): The single toe propelled by tendons and ligaments with no muscle below the knee allows the leg to swing without inertia. The spring foot stores energy within the ligaments enabling elastic energy recovery so that the best animals can recover 40% of the energy expended when they gallop or trot. Thus, less energy is expended per unit traveled over long distances. 96 Froissart, Chroniques 1:25: “les chevaliers et écuyers bien montés sur bons gros roncins.” Ayton, Knights and Warhorses, pp. 67–68, p. 67, n. 89. 97 Froissart, Chroniques, I:652: “montés chacun sur bons gros coursiers, pour tantôt partir quand la mêlée se commenceroit.” 98 Istore et croniques de Flandres, 2:61. 99 Froissart, Chroniques, 1:339. 100 Le Jouvencel 2:17–18, some of the coureurs were in the process of being captured when the main attack went in. 101 Froissart, Chroniques, 1:122. 102 D’Auton, Chroniques, 3:109: they bought time for the arrival of mounted reinforcements, 94

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Strong horses, that could sustain wounds on behalf of their master, also played a crucial role in combat: knocking down opponents, breaking barriers and pike shafts, and facilitating escape.103 For “noman sothly dare put himself in presse withouten horse.”104 Jacques de Lalaing, who often fought as a coureur against the Gantois, “les combatoit de sa main et de son cheval et plusieurs en abatit par terre.”105 A similar phrase is used of Thomas de Gray, who felled opponents “de hurt du cheval, et de sa launce.”106 For “a strong and hardy horse doth some time more damage under his master than he with all his weapons.”107 It was also important for the auxiliaries to have good mounts, which was a further reason for nobles being coureurs, as a degree of affluence was necessary to help their retinues obtain decent horses.108 Auxiliaries, mounted “sur de gros chevaux,” such as the coustilliers who escorted Charles VIII into Florence, could use their horses to extricate their men-at-arms from dangerous situations.109 One example is when Jacques de Lalaing was rescued by an unarmored varlet, who brandishing a lancegay, used the peytral on his horse’s chest to break through the Ghentish pikes.110 At Montlhéry (1465), Charles the Bold was saved in a similar fashion by his physician’s son, who riding “ung fort cheval,” forced his mount between the count and his assailants.111 This form of close-quarter contact known as “shoulder barging,” was partly instinctive but required a strong horse that had been trained in the maneuver.112 The role of coureurs, both as scouts and skirmishers, had implications for how their horses were protected and most would have worn little or no armor. Full barding reduced a horse’s endurance and was usually transported in carts only the better mounted Spaniards escaped. 3:321–22: “les premiers coureurs Françoys” regrouped, and seeing the enemy’s horses completely exhausted, charged to administer the coup de grâce. 103 Chartier, Chronique de Charles VII, 3:146, on the coursier chosen by the Pucelle. Le Jouvencel, 1:129. 104 John Lydgate, “Horse, Goose and Sheep” in H. Breymann and J. Shick, Münchener Beiträge zur Romanischen und Englischen Philologie (Leipzig, 1900), p. 103. 105 Olivier de la Marche, Mémoires, ed. H. Beaune and J. D’Arbaumont, 4 vols. (Paris, 1883– 1888), 2:239. 106 Sir Thomas Gray, Scalacronica 1272–1363, ed. and trans. Andy King (Woodbridge, 2019), p. 68. 107 Sir Thomas Elyot, The Book Named the Governor (1531; repr. London, 1962), p. 64. 108 In raids and long-distance enterprises, it was important for the auxiliaries to keep up. Some may have ridden good horses from their master’s second string in a manner similar to that planned for the French varles at Agincourt: Christopher Phillpotts, “The French Plan of Battle during the Agincourt Campaign,” English Historical Review 99 (1984), 59–66. 109 François Buttin, “La lance et l’arrêt de cuirasse,” Archaeologia 99 (1965), p. 105. 110 De la Marche, Mémoires, 2:239–40: “du poictrail de son cheval il rompit les picques.” Le Jouvencel, 1:129: “hurtons de poittrine de cheval à la barrière.” 111 De la Marche, Mémoires, 3:11–12. Philippe de Commynes, Mémoires, ed. L. M. Emille Dupont, Société de l’histoire de France, 3 vols. (Paris, 1840–1847), 1:42–43. 112 Robert E. Gaebel, Cavalry Operations in the Ancient Greek World (Norman, 2002), p. 167.



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to be fitted before an engagement.113 However, although coureurs usually sacrificed horse armor for speed, a shaffron and sometimes a leather or plate peytral might be worn, as the latter helped to knock down those on foot and force other horses aside. The shaffron provided crucial defence for the horse’s head, particularly during skirmish actions. Horses react badly to being struck on the face, which can force them backwards or cause them to rear and throw their riders. Malory’s Sir Nabon deliberately tried to kill his opponents’ horses by striking them in the forehead, an action for which the Spanish were notorious.114 Blows to the nose with the flat of a light lance could also unnerve the animals, making them turn around and expose their riders to attack.115 Twenty-four shaffrons are depicted in the Beauchamp Pageant, suggesting that it was the most frequently used piece of horse armor, particularly among light horsemen.116 Evidence of head protection for horses in medieval Europe dates back to the thirteenth century. Shaffrons were originally of hardened leather (cuir bouilli) and later of steel, with the earliest documented examples belonging to the count de Nevers (1266).117 Modern police horses are still equipped with a variant of the shaffron, which protects their eyes and absorbs impact, while their riders are provided with leg defences. How coureurs themselves were armored is not easy to determine. Those acting as scouts were, according to Le Jouvencel, “hommes desarmez,” or “gens desarmez.”118 They were meant to avoid combat but expected to defend themselves if attacked, and presumably carried lancegays or swords for self-defence.119 Rogers considers that coureurs organized into larger detachments for skirmish actions were “normally well-armored cavalrymen,” although his statement is unsupported.120 Froissart, however, mentions coureurs, who were “environ soixante amures de fer,” but this is a generic trope for men-at-arms, and does not necessarily imply that they were always fully armored.121 Moreover, there is evidence to suggest that men-at-arms acting as coureurs often wore lighter armor consistent with their light cavalry role, especially for raids, surprise attacks, or even as a matter of choice. Knyghthode and Bataile suggests Potter, Renaissance France at War, p. 79. William Patten, “The Expedition into Scotland, 1547,” in A. F. Pollard, ed., Tudor Tracts, 1532–1588 (London, 1903), p. 116, at Pinkie (1547) the bards could not be fitted in time. 114 Vinaver, Malory, 1:444–45. Loredan Larchey, History of Bayard (London, 1883), p. 326. Oman, Art of War in the Sixteenth Century, p. 54. 115 Philip Haythornthwaite, Napoleonic Light Cavalry Tactics (Oxford, 2013), pp. 37–38. 116 The Beauchamp Pageant, ed. Alexandra Sinclair (Donnington, 2003), pp. 61–146. Goodman, Wars of the Roses, p. 179 suggests that several drawings illustrate light cavalry equipment. 117 Stuart W. Pyhrr, Donald J. Larocca, and Dirk H. Breiding, The Armored Horse in Europe 1480–1620 (New York, 2005), pp. 9–12. 118 Le Jouvencel, 2:16, unarmored. 119 Ibid., 1:147. 120 Rogers, Soldiers’ Lives, p. 84. 121 Froissart, Chroniques, 1:339. 113

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that the best horsemen wearing lighter armor should guard the flanks and rear of the foot: “Light herneysed, and myghtiest that ride/Doubte if ther is, putte hem uppon that side.” The phrase “myghtiest that ride” suggesting men-at-arms.122 Le Jouvencel frequently uses the term “hommes legièrs.” Thus, “dix compaignons legièrs, qui fussent pas chargiez de harnoys” were to guard the crossroads and intercept any foot soldiers heading for the town.123 The “dix hommes legièrs de harnoys pour garder et tenir les chemins,” are, as guetter and tenir suggest, intended to have a combat role as distinct from the “estradeurs,” sent to scout the countryside.124 The reference to the 200-300 “chevaulx legièrement habilliez,” whom Le Jouvencel calls coureurs, assembled for the enterprise at Vausselle, clearly refers to the riders rather than their horses, being called “mounted men lightly armed” in a recent translation.125 Chevaux is often used as a metonym for horsemen, as demonstrated by Godefroy’s definition of “chevaux legers” as “cavaliers armés à la légère,” and when the term occasionally denotes “the nature of the horses employed,” this is usually made clear.126 Those who captained groups of coureurs often chose lighter armor as it allowed them to use their weapons more profitably. Thus, Louis d’Ars rode out against some Spanish genitors “armé legierement pour se trouver a delivre aux armes exploicter.” While Jacques de Chabannes was wounded in both sides “car il estoit legierement armé et en coureur,” the last phrase suggesting that lighter armor was commonly worn in such situations.127 However, these examples need to be set against the fact that coureurs often engaged in periods of intense lancearmed combat, which required significant protection. Monstrelet describes a fierce skirmish between French and Burgundian coureurs where many lances were broken and men-at-arms killed, wounded, and unhorsed on both sides.128 In a later episode “les avan coureurs Francoys” put spurs to their horses and couch their lances to charge.129 Knyghthode and Bataile, p.51, ll. 1375–1376. Goodman, War of the Roses, p. 176. Le Jouvencel, 1:84–85. 124 Ibid., 1:86. 125 Ibid, 1:150: “deux ou trois cens chevaulx legièrement habilliez pour courre la prairie et prendre les chevaulx; et ceux-là ont nom coureurs.” Taylor and Taylor, Le Jouvencel, p. 86. 126 Godefroy, Complément, p. 73. Potter, Renaissance France at War, p. 86 cites d’Auton, Chroniques, 3:106 relating to Barletta (1503) where “a petite escoadre sur chevaulx legiers pour diversifyer la guerre” are called coureurs. Froissart, Chroniques, 1:43: “Robert d’Artois à plus de trois mille chevaux, et le roi d’Angleterre qui y devoit venir à six cents chevaux.” Le Jouvencel, 1:139: “quatre cens chevaulx,” 1:65–66 “XIX chevaulx.” 1:185: “XXX chevaulx.” D’Auton, Chroniques, 1:188: “six vings chevaux.” Molinet, Chroniques, 4:299, “environ trois cents hommes et seize ou dix-sept chevaulx,” 4:318–319: “soixante chevaulx et six vingts piétons.” Livre des trahisons, 2:159, where the Armagnacs were “bien en nombre de mille chevaux.” 127 D’Auton, Chroniques, 3:322, 3:134–35, author’s italics. 128 Monstrelet, La chronique, 3:18. Livre des trahisons, 2:240, documents a similar episode where Burgundian coureurs charge the French and many lances are broken on both sides. 129 D’Auton, Chroniques, 1:188: “coucherent lances et donnerent des esperons.” 122 123



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The problem of what sort of armor to wear was a long-standing one and seems to have depended upon the type of fighting expected. The issue was highlighted by William Marshal (1147–1219) who, together with his companion knights, donned lighter armor on several occasions to reconnoiter, ride swiftly, harass the enemy, or rescue comrades, actions similar to those of a coureur. Marshal wore light armor for the reconnaissance at Le Mans (1189) but then put on full armor the following day when fierce fighting was expected. Responding to jibes from the king, who remained unarmored, Marshal replied that he would not disarm until “I know what we have to deal with! An unarmed man won’t last long in a serious clash or crisis.”130 Marshal’s response highlighted an important dilemma for coureurs, as skirmishes could quickly escalate into small battles.131 In another episode, Marshal and his men, all lightly armored, were intent on harassing the French withdrawal but quickly backed off when confronted by William de Barres and 300 fully armed knights, realizing that a serious encounter would invite disaster.132 However, the possibility of being engaged in lance-armed combat was the very reason that men-at-arms offered their services as coureurs. A proportion, therefore, may, as Rogers suggests, have remained fully armored, apart from the absence of horse barding. However, towards the end of the fourteenth century, it was eminently possible to use the heavy lance with lighter armor, provided the rider possessed a breastplate or brigandine fitted with an arrêt de cuirasse, or deployed l’écu énchancré, the curved, notched horseman’s shield, which served the same purpose.133 As lances became heavier, riders had for some time rested the couched lance on the upper edge of the shield, which eventually became suspended from the neck by a strap called a guige. The curve enabled the shield to be brought closer to the body, while the introduction of the notch prevented the weapon from sliding off sideways. The arrêt de cuirasse, a metal hook attached to the right side of the breast plate, was used when the lance was about to be couched. While taking some of the weight of the lance, its main purpose was to act as a fulcrum to control and direct the descent of the weapon. By the fifteenth century the heavy war lance was entirely dependent on this device, which could not be fitted to mail as it required a firm base if it was not to rupture on impact. The introduction of the arrêt de cuirasse, coincided with the development of steel plate and necessitated the wearing of a breastplate, a brigandine with one of the metal lames enlarged to accommodate the device, or a steel placard worn on the chest over the brigandine.134 Brigandines appeared in the latter part of the fourteenth

130 131 132 133

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Bryant, History of William Marshal, pp. 115–17, p. 155. Molinet, Chroniques, 1:137: “grosses escarmouches convertir en petites batailles.” Bryant, History of William Marshal, pp. 155–56. Buttin, “La lance et l’arrêt de cuirasse,” 77–178. Michael John Harbinson, “The Lance in the Fifteenth Century: How French Cavalry Overcame the English Defensive System in the Latter Part of the Hundred Years War,” Journal of Medieval Military History 17 (2019), pp. 144–47. Ibid., p. 146. Buttin, “La lance et l’arrêt de cuirasse,” p. 105.

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century and consisted of a series of overlapping steel plates woven into layers of canvas. They incorporated lightness and flexibility with protection, providing considerable resistance to arrows, bolts and sword cuts.135 Brigandines were soon combined with more rigid armor. The chest was given additional protection by a plate d’acier or pièce d’acier, later known as a placard, a steel plate which was fitted over the brigandine.136 This device provided a solid base for the attachment of the arrêt de cuirasse, facilitating lance-armed combat, while significantly increasing protection for the rider without compromising the flexibility of lighter armor. The joust of war before Badajoz in 1382 between the young knights Tristan de Roye and Miles of Windsor highlights these issues. Both men charged each other at full tilt and on the third pass, although the lances shattered, the sharpened heads of Bordeaux steel penetrated the pièce d’acier and underlying plates of the brigandines of both riders but did not pierce the flesh.137 Brigandines were regularly worn by mounted archers and other auxiliaries, while those fitted with an arrêt de cuirasse by means of an additional steel plate were considered essential for coustilliers.138 They might also be worn by men-at-arms, as mentioned above, and as demonstrated in the portrait of Saint Victor by Maître de Moulins, which shows the saint in a brigandine with a placard and arrêt de cuirasse (Fig. 8.1).139 On the march to Paris (1465), where there was considerable skirmishing, Charles the Bold and the duke of Calabria were in full harness, “bien armez,” while the dukes of Berry and Bretagne wore “petites brigandines fort legeres.”140 Similarly, the six thousand mounted Bretons: “archiers & d’autres hommes de guerre” were “armez de bonne brigandines.”141 Sir Humphrey Stafford wore a brigandine when he was killed at Sevenoaks (1450) by Jack Cade’s men, while Baudo de Noyelle, the governor of Peronne, wore a brigandine during the successful skirmish against the Gantois at the Pont d’Espierres (1452).142 The convocation of the nobility for the counties of de la Marche and Combrailles at Guéret (1470) documents brigandines worn by archers, squires, and men-atarms: “Monsieur Bruschard, Seigneur de Saint-George, chevalier, monté et armé Charles Edward Ashdown, British and Continental Arms and Armour (London, 1909), pp. 263–64. 136 Buttin, “La lance et l’arrêt de cuirasse,” pp. 103–105; such plates were commonly used with brigandines from the end of the fourteenth century. 137 Froissart, Chroniques, 2:194. Buttin, “La lance et l’arrêt de cuirasse,” p. 104. 138 Ibid., pp. 105, 172 for the Burgundian ordinances of 1475 and 1458, which stress the need for the coustillier to possess a placquart blanc a tout arrest, the latter phrase being repeated three times. 139 Ibid., plate XXXVIII b. for the portrait of Saint Victor. Chartier, Chronique de Charles VII, 2:236, on the mounted archers selected for the Normandy campaign (1449–1450). Contamine, War in the Middle Ages, pp. 128–30, on the armor of auxiliaries and archers. 140 Commynes, Mémoires, 1:41–42. 141 Ibid., 1:35. 142 Ralph A. Griffiths, The Reign of Henry VI (London, 1981), p. 612. D’Escouchy, Chronique, 1:390. 135

Figure 8.1  St. Victor (or St. Maurice) with a Suppliant (ca.1480) by Maître de Moulins. The saint wears a brigandine above which a placard supports an arrêt de cuirasse. He holds a curved notched horseman’s shield by the straps of the guige. © CSG CIC Glasgow Museums Collection.

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de brigandine.”143 Similarly the muster for la noblesse du bailliage d’Ḗvreux in 1469, demonstrates that many lesser nobles, owners or part owners of fiefdoms, including several of the king’s officers were equipped with brigandines and carried demi-lances or javelins, some accompanied by a varlet or page.144 The Beauchamp Pageant (1483-1492) has battle scenes depicting both fully armored horsemen, and others using the lance with open helmets and without plates on their arms suggestive of light cavalry.145 The Mittelalterliches Hausbuch (1480) features jousts of war, showing men-at-arms in brigandines and lighter armor using the lance, together with l’écu énchancré.146 While there is no way of establishing how coureurs were armed on all occasions, it is probable that they consisted of a mixture of fully and more lightly armored men-at-arms accompanied by their auxiliaries. Light armor, however, seems to have been a relative concept, and while some men-at-arms and lesser gentry who rode en coureur were probably armed in a similar fashion to their coustilliers, they still had reasonable protection. A visored sallet was much favored by light horsemen as it was not heavy and combined good vision with adequate defense. A gorget, brigandine, gauntlets, leg and arm defenses with mail sleeves, were also utilized. At Corbie (1471), coustilliers were used to bulk out the ranks of the men-at-arms, suggesting that at a distance they did not look particularly different, while their defensive weaknesses could be compensated by speed.147 Leg defenses were crucial for both fully armored men-at-arms and those in lighter armor, whether fighting on horseback or on foot. The lower limbs were a frequent target, with many wounds sustained in mounted combat involving the right tibia.148 English muster rolls (1420-1440) demonstrate the importance L. Pataux, Généalogie de la maison de Brachet de Floresac (Limoges, 1885), pp. 123–32: including Jacques Morin, Le Bastard Vinant, Antoine Rochet. An écuyer or squire was a young man-at-arms in the entourage of a knight, who aspired to that title. 144 Monstres générales de la noblesse du bailliage d’Ḗvreux 1469, ed. Théodose Bonnin (Paris, 1853), pp. 1–104. 145 Sinclair, Beauchamp Pageant, pp. 61–146. Goodman, Wars of the Roses, p. 179. 146 Malcolm Vale, War and Chivalry (London, 1981), pp. 74–75. 147 Buttin, “La lance et l’arrêt de cuirasse,” p. 172, Contamine, War in the Middle Ages, p. 128, on the armor of the coustillier and man-at-arms. Contamine, Guerre, état et société, pp. 279–280, p.179, n. 10. Jean, Seigneur de Haynin et de Louvegnies, Mémoires 1465–1477, ed. R. Chalons, La Société des bibliophiles Belges, 2 vols. (Mons, 1842), 2:165: “pour paroir estre plus grant nombre.” 148 Pietro Monte’s Collectanea, trans. Jeffrey L. Forgeng (Woodbridge, 2018), p. 141, documents low thrusts to the legs. Bengt Thordeman, Poul Nördlund, and Bo E. Inglemark, Armour from The Battle of Wisby, 1361, 2 vols. (Stockholm, 1939) 1:171–78: grave excavations demonstrate that the tibia sustained the greatest number of cuts of any bone. In the group designated not more than one cut, the right tibia had a preponderance “of blows aimed vertico-horizontally from below,” suggesting that they were directed at mounted warriors, who then used their horses to escape further injury. In a struggle with cutting weapons between mounted men and those on foot, the former usually turned the right side of the horse towards their opponent, which protected the left leg from injury. Patten, “The 143



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placed on leg protection, as the fines for being without “leg harness” were far greater than for those presenting without a helmet.149 Leg armor was difficult and expensive to make and a vital part of equipment for a man-at-arms. A contemporary reference to the catastrophe at Formigny (1450), places the loss of leg harness before the mention of casualties, as its capture jeopardized the establishment of a further field force.150 “Sallades” and “harnois de jambes” were regarded as essential for both the men-at-arms and mounted archers, recruited for the French reconquest of Normandy in 1450.151 The Discipline militaire of 1548 documents the complete separation of men-at-arms from light horsemen, nevertheless the latter are still shown to be well-armored despite the increased prevalence of gunpowder weapons at this period.152 Light horsemen, who now subsumed the role of coureurs, were considered better for skirmish warfare rather than open battle, being less well equipped to withstand the blows that men-at-arms were expected to sustain. Conversely, it was not the remit of barded horses to traverse the field “courir ça et là.”153 Chevau-légers were armored, with salade, gorget, hallecret, (breast plate), gauntlets, tassets, shoulder and arm guards, and carried a lance. The estradiots were armed in a similar fashion except for mail sleeves and were furnished with a lancegay, which would seem to contradict Molinet’s assertion that they were unarmored, although their protective equipment probably increased over time.154 Sir John Smythe considered stradiots “a kind of light Expedition into Scotland, 1547,” p. 120, records serious pike wounds to the legs and knees of the English riders at Pinkie (1547). 149 Richard Ager Newhall, Muster and Review, A Problem of English Military Administration 1420–1440 (Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1940), pp. 30, 30 n. 61, 83. In January 1424 the muster for the garrison at St. Lô, revealed three men-at-arms without bascinets and eighteen others “sans harnois de jambes.” The former were fined the equivalent of 6 days’ pay, while twelve days’ pay was deducted from each of the latter. 150 The Paston Letters 1422–1509 A.D. ed. James Gairdner, 4 vols. (Edinburgh, 1910), 1:125– 26: “Sir Thomas Keriel is taken prisoner, and alle the legge harneyse, and abowte 3,000 Englishemen slayn.” It was difficult to run in leg armor which was often discarded when this became necessary: Bryant, Bertrand de Guesclin, pp. 75, 142. Clifford Rogers (pers. com.) suggests that “legge harneyse” might be a metonym for men-at-arms, which, if correct, also stresses the importance of this equipment. 151 Chartier, Chronique de Charles VII, 2:235–36. Berry Herault, Le recouvrement de Normandie, in Joseph Stevenson, Narratives of the Expulsion of the English from Normandy MCCCCXLIX-MCCCCL (London 1863), pp. 370–71. 152 Guillaume du Bellay, Seigneur de Langey, Discipline militaire, ed. Benoist Rigaud (Lyon, 1592), pp. 51–52. 153 Ibid. Evans, Works of Sir Roger Williams, p. cxii cites Fourquevaux (1548) who states that a well-armored man cannot be hurt “by hand-strokes whereas the light horseman is subject unto blowes upon many parts of his body.” 154 Du Bellay, Discipline militaire, p. 51. Molinet, Chroniques, 5:41. Alessandro Benedetti, Diaria de bello carolino, ed. and trans, Dorothy M. Schullian (New York, 1967), p. 149, considers that they had light lances, swords, shields and leather corselets with a few wearing breastplates. Gay, Glossaire archéologique, 1:672–73, states that they were armed with a salade, jack, mail sleeves and rode with long stirrups in contrast to génétaires. Hall,

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horsemen that have been used for many years both in Italie, Fraunce, Spain and Germanie. although their weapons and manner of armor differ from one nation to another.”155 Spurs were an essential part of a coureur’s equipment as for all medieval horsemen, and an important asset in skirmish warfare. They required considerable experience to be used effectively, and were best administered sparingly: “for you will need their help when you least expect it.”156 Applied correctly, spurs imparted significant momentum to the horse during a lance strike and facilitated escape from dangerous situations.157 At Saint-Omer (1346), the coureurs used their spurs to crash through a party of armed Flemings who were barring their way.158 While in 1504, twenty-five French coureurs cleared a Spanish camp without losing a single man, by putting spurs to their horses.159 In the fifteenth century long spurs became extremely popular due to the difficulty of striking the flanks of barded animals, and because the high arçon of the medieval war saddle extended the legs, and pushed the rider’s heels from the horse’s sides. The high saddle made mounting and dismounting difficult and long spurs complicated the process.160 Duarte of Portugal considered them unnecessary, arguing that a good horse did not ride well with long spurs and that a rider who tried to alight rapidly or run was likely to trip and fall.161 Men-at-arms acting as coureurs probably wore round-toed sabatons and the shorter spurs used by mounted archers, so that they could mount and dismount quickly.162 Those intending to fight on foot usually removed their spurs, as did Henry V at Agincourt (1415).163 Chronicle, p. 543, however describes the stradiots before Guinegate (1513) as being: “with short stirrups, beaver hats,” and swords like Turkish scimitars. Potter, Renaissance France at War, p. 87, notes that not all stradiots were Albanian. 155 Sir John Smythe, Instructions, Observations, and Orders Mylitarie (London, 1595), pp. 174–75. 156 Duarte I of Portugal, The Book of Horsemanship, trans. Jeffrey L. Forgeng (Woodbridge, 2016), pp. 145–49. 157 Hall, Chronicle, p. 550, notes that Guinegate (1513) was called the “journay of Spurres” for good reason as the French men-at-arms, threw away their lances, “cut off the bardes of their horses,” and “rane away so fast on horsbacke.” 158 Istore et croniques de Flandres, 2:64: “férirent des esperons.” 159 D’Auton, Chroniques, 3:321: “donnerent des esperons et coururent tant roidement.” 160 Robert W. Jones, Bloodied Banners: Martial Display on the Medieval Battlefield (Woodbridge, 2010), pp. 94–96 cites Gerald of Wales on the difficulties on mounting and dismounting in full armor, and discusses the factors that might influence the choice of lighter equipment, such as the type of enemy, the preference for speed and mobility, and the influence of foreign military culture. 161 Duarte, The Book of Horsemanship, p. 149: long spurs were prone to catch and break. Blanche M. A. Ellis and Geoff Egan, “Spurs and Spur Fittings,” in John Clark, ed. The Medieval Horse and Its Equipment, c.1150–1450 (London, 1995), pp. 124–56, 129. 162 Contamine, War in the Middle Ages, p. 130: “round-toed pointless shoes and short spurs so that they might easily dismount.” 163 Waurin, Recueil de chroniques, 2:202: Henry marshaled his army riding a grey hackney, “de tous poins arme…sans esporons.” Paul Charpentier and Charles Cuissard, eds. Journal du Siège d’Orléans 1428–1420 (Orléans, 1896), p. 140: Talbot was captured at Patay (1429)



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Spurs were useful when coureurs took prisoners during mounted combat. The technique was to seize an opponent’s bridle with the left hand while he was otherwise engaged and drag him forcefully from the field by putting spurs to one’s own horse.164 Since coureurs operated in groups that mixed combatants of different classes, a unit would contain individuals with a variety of protective equipment and weapons, increasing its flexibility. Mounted archers added missile capability but also carried swords and daggers and may sometimes have appropriated a light spear. French and Italian units frequently carried the crossbow, which could be fired from horseback and proved a significant asset in skirmish warfare when combined with troops armed with the lancegay, a light, robust, thrusting lance also known as l’archegaie, javeline or zagaye.165 The lancegay, commonly associated with genitors and stradiots, was also carried by the coustilliers of the French and Burgundian ordinances, and often used by men-at-arms as an alternative to the heavy lance from the late fourteenth century onwards.166 The lancegay was made of stiff ash and about ten to twelve feet long with sharpened iron points at both ends, probably a refinement upon the original butt-spike or l’aresteuil. The modification gave the weapon weight and balance, allowing it to be held comfortably in the middle of the shaft, so that it could easily be reversed if the point was broken, while also giving the rider the ability to strike with either end in quick succession.167 The two sharp steel heads made the lancegay highly effective in close combat as the knight or rider, surrounded by enemies could deal with several opponents at once, striking almost simultaneously at both men and horses whether in front, behind or on the sides, as Alessandro because, although he had managed to remount, his escape was compromised as he had taken off his spurs. 164 Bryant, The History of William Marshal, p. 118. Froissart, Chroniques, 1:122; “puis férit le sien des éperons en le tirent hors de la bataille.” 165 Buttin, “La lance et l’arrêt de cuirasse,” pp. 171–73: The terms lancegay, archegaie and javeline were largely interchangeable in the fifteenth century. The javeline also appeared in the fifteenth century, “qui n’est toujours que la lance légère.” The génétaire, the Spanish version of the lancegay, was otherwise known as the “javeline de Espaigne.” Smythe, Instructions, Observations, and Orders Mylitarie, p. 175, on the intermingling of stradiots armed with the lancegay or zagaye and mounted crossbowmen. Bell, Curry, et al., The Soldier in Later Medieval England, p. 146, on the secondary weapons carried by archers. Speculation exists as to whether some mounted archers carried the lancegay but there is little evidence, although Knighton’s Chronicle 1337–1396, ed. and trans. G. H. Martin (Oxford, 1995), p. 145, notes that at Poitiers (1356) archers fought “cum gladiis et lanceis,” the latter being a light spear or archegaie. 166 As with Chaucer’s Sir Topas (1390) and the knight from the early fifteenth-century Gest of Robyn Hode. Contamine, Guerre, état et société, pp. 278, n. 6, 659, coustilliers might also carry vouges or the langue-de-boeuf, a broad-bladed partisan, which could be used on foot. 167 Du Bellay, Discipline militaire, p. 52: “longue de 10 à 12 pieds, ferrée par chacun bout d’un fer aigu et trenchant.” Buttin, “La lance et l’arrêt de cuirasse,” p. 175. Godefroy, Dictionnaire, 2:258. Harbinson, “The Lance in the Fifteenth Century,” pp. 160–63.

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Malatesta and Sir John Smythe confirmed.168 The weapon was capable of a deep penetrating thrust being lethal against the poorly armored, while at close quarters, particularly when held with both hands, it might pierce plate in the manner of a “punching stave.”169 If the breastplate was not penetrated the point might slide off and lodge in more exposed areas. Le Jouvencel advised aiming for the armpits, throat, or other parts that were less well protected, noting that the lance had an uncanny knack of seeking out the smallest imperfection in any armor.170 As a light lance, the lancegay or javeline could be used in a variety of ways, striking both overarm and with the hand lowered, but it was also sufficiently robust to be couched and deployed in the arrêt de cuirasse. This device became an essential part of a coustillier’s equipment during the fifteenth century, so that the weapon’s potential could be fully exploited.171 Unlike the heavy war lance which could only be used once, being designed to break on contact, the lancegay could be used several times, striking easily at those on either side, particularly foot soldiers or fugitives. The weapon’s lightness and versatility made it ideal for skirmish warfare and for the pursuit, and it was readily adopted by men-at-arms who needed “to ride fast and light,” with armor being modified to accommodate it.172 The lancegay could kill an opponent’s horse without breaking; be thrown as a missile; or used on foot in the manner of a pike.173 Smythe, Instructions, Observations, and Orders Mylitarie, pp. 199–200: striking “both forward and backewarde, I meane as well as their enemies that they have in frunt or on flanks, as also their enimies and their horses that may uppon any retrait pursue them.” Alessandro Malatesta :“striking with it both in front and behind,” cited in Sydney Anglo, The Martial Arts of Renaissance Europe, (London, 2000), pp. 351–352. Du Bellay, Discipline militaire, p. 54: “the stradiots should know how to use the lancegay with both hands giving first one point and then the other.” 169 Smythe, Instructions, Observations, and Orders Mylitarie, p. 198. David Scott-MacNab, “Sir Topas and his Lancegay,” in Chaucer in Context, A Golden Age of English Poetry, ed. Gerald Morgan (Bern, 2012), p. 121: in 1451 William Tresham was smote with a lancegay “thorough the body a fote or more, wherof he died.” D’Auton, Chroniques, 3:267–68: at the Garigliano (1502), a Spanish captain was slain when the weapon penetrated “plus d’ung pié luy mist dedans le corps.” Chroniques de Saint-Denis in Les grandes chroniques de France ed. Alexis Paulin, 6 vols. (Paris, 1836–1836), 1:1312–1313: William Douglas was mortally wounded while fighting the Saracens “féru d’une archegaie parmi le corps.” 170 Le Jouvencel, 1:145, 2:100: “car une lance est moult subtille.” The face was also a significant target, particularly as it was often uncovered to aid ventilation, while the armor which formed the visor was quite thin. Moreover, a rider could be unbalanced while trying to avoid strikes to the face. 171 Buttin, “La lance et l’arrêt de cuirasse,” p. 172: “pour permettre au cavalier d’utiliser également à deux fins sa lance légère.” Contamine, War in the Middle Ages, p. 128. 172 Scott-MacNab, “Sir Topas and his Lancegay,” pp. 122–23. Tobias Capwell, Armour of the English Knight 1400–1450 (London, 2015), pp. 232–34. Pataux, Généalogie de la maison de Brachet de Floresac, pp. 123–32, notes several men-at-arms furnished with “brigandine, sallade et javeline.” M. Dupont-White, Le siège de Beauvais 1472 (Beauvais, 1848), p. 11: the bishop wore a brigandine, and was mounted, “un javelin au main.” 173 Chronique des quatre premiers Valois, p. 177: “les Espaingnolz leur gettoient dardes et archigaies.” 168



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The weapon’s versatility allowed combat to take place at a distance or at close quarters. Moreover, unlike the heavy lance, its power was not dependent upon the speed and momentum of the horse, which gave the lancegay a significant advantage in a mêlée against men-at-arms who had “not any ground nor roome to put their horses into any carrire, nor to charge their launces into their rests.” If heavier opponents dropped their lances and took to their swords it was of little avail as the lancegay possessed a greater reach.174 The lancegay or javeline was, therefore, ideal for skirmishing on horseback and hence well suited to coureurs. The combination of mounted troops armed with both heavy lances and lancegays added to the effectiveness of those acting en coureur as the weapons complemented each other.175 The roles performed by coureurs and their modus operandi As mentioned previously coureurs performed a host of different functions, the principal ones being scouting, protecting the army’s line of march, screening its dispositions, skirmishing, foraging and pillaging. They harassed enemy columns and attacked their foragers, ambushed their opponents by luring them from the safety of their fortifications, participated in chevauchées, night attacks, dawn raids, and the capture of small towns.176 They could charge with the avantgarde, act as a forlorn hope, test the strength of the enemy, and, when occasion demanded, fight on foot. Less common activities included intimidation, spreading false news, arranging parleys, and preventing desertion. These tasks will be examined in turn. Le Jouvencel gives details of what was expected of coureurs when acting as scouts, emphasizing that when a great company rode forth, they should always remain behind their fore-riders.177 Coureurs were expected to ensure that enemy troops were not hidden in woods, sunken lanes or lurking near fords and defiles.178 The quality of the information gathered was crucial, which was why it was preferable to select experienced men-at-arms. At Second Saint Albans (1461), despite elaborate preparations to protect his artillery positions, the Earl of Warwick was effectively out-flanked: “for hyr pryckyers come not home to bring no tydyng howe ny that the queen was, save one come and sayd that she was ix myle of.”179 A similar failure of reconnaissance at Coleshill (1459) brought Warwick’s soldiers dangerously close to the duke of Somerset and his

Smythe, Instructions, Observations, and Orders Mylitarie, p. 173. Buttin, “La lance et l’arrêt de cuirasse,” p. 175. Harbinson, “The Lance in the Fifteenth Century,” pp. 160–63. 175 Buttin, “La lance et l’arrêt de cuirasse,” p. 171. 176 Le Jouvencel, 1:149. 177 Ibid., 1:214. Chan Tsin, “Marching Orders in Le Jouvencel,” pp. 130–31. 178 Le Jouvencel,1:214–15. Cuvelier, 2:52: “pluseurs coureurs envoier par devant/ Qui la forest cerchèrent ou milieu et avant.” 179 “William Gregory’s Chronicle,” in James Gairdner, ed. The Historical Collections of a Citizen of London in the Fifteenth Century, Camden Society (London, 1876), p. 213. 174

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army, “yet non of hem mette whythe othyr as hyt happyd.”180 Certain knowledge of the enemy’s absence was also vital and could reassure an army prone to rumors and alarm. In 1485 Henry Tudor marched from Milford Haven with a small force of around 2,000 men who, uncertain of support, were fearful of an imminent confrontation with a much larger body. However, the demeanor of the troops changed dramatically when elite horsemen: “sent out before hand to scurrey by erle Henry brought home woord that all thyngs (as they wer in dede) wer quiet, and that ther was no hindrance to ther voyage immynent.”181 The news was particularly welcome, as at such an early stage of the campaign a “small amount of vigorous resistance would have crushed the enterprise.”182 Coureurs covered every aspect of an army on the march, in the same manner as nineteenth-century light cavalry, being placed in front of the avant-garde, on both wings, and in the rear so that the host should not be taken by surprise. At the same time, they ensured that hostile skirmishers could not assess their own army’s numbers and dispositions.183 They brought news of the enemy’s strength and deployment, whether as horse or foot, so that the necessary preparations could be made. Coureurs needed to be prestz et ynel, “ready and rapid,” and were selected from the avant-garde or chosen before the army moved out, as it was important to sight the enemy as soon as possible.184 The reason being that men-at-arms usually travelled without being fully harnessed and required time to don helmets, buckle on or tighten armor, and mount their war horses. Girths had to be tightened to prevent rotation of the saddle during a lance strike, and banners and pennons unfurled.185 Once the enemy was located, the army was drawn up and strict orders given that no one, on pain of death, should ride [courir] in front of the banners of the marshals.186 This prevented unauthorized encounters escalating out of control and ensured that only coureurs, who were experienced and reliable, were appointed to advance before the standards. Thus, during the preliminaries to Poitiers (1356), when the elite coureurs of the Ibid., p. 205. Sir Henry Ellis, ed. Three Books of Polydore Vergil’s, English History, Comprising the Reigns of Henry VI, Edward IV and Richard III, Camden Society (London, 1844), pp. 216–17. Goodman, Wars of the Roses, p. 177. 182 James H. Ramsay, Lancaster and York, A Century of English History (A.D. 1399–1485), 2 vols. (Oxford, 1892), 2:540. 183 Le Jouvencel, 1:188; 2:35: “qu’ilz reboutent les courreurs des enemyz, qu’ilz ne voient vostre convine et vostre puissance.” Nolan, Cavalry, pp. 40–44: light horsemen should cover the front, flanks and rear of the army to prevent surprise, while keeping the enemy at a distance in open terrain. When required, they should be able to function as heavy cavalry. 184 Cuvelier, 1:154. Chronique des quatre premiers Valois, p. 177: “furent coureurs de l’ost du prince de Galles de son avantgarde.” 185 Froissart, Chroniques, 1:720: following reports from their coureurs, both sides “recueillit ses gens bien et sagement, et firent développer leurs pennons.” Rogers, Soldiers’ Lives, pp. 91–92. 186 Froissart, Chroniques, 1:340: “ne courût ni chevauchèrent devant les bannières des maréchaux.” 180 181



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prince of Wales were sent forward, they were able to catch the French rearguard unprepared.187 The French suffered significant loss as many were not wearing their helmets.188 Nervousness ensued if the coureurs failed to return within three hours.189 Knowledge of the enemy formation was particularly important to the French during the Hundred Years War, as their cavalry could be used more effectively if the English had not adopted their traditional defense. At Patay (1429), having found the English, the French coureurs advised their captains to charge quickly, keeping good order, before the enemy had time to form.190 The urgency of the situation was such that the coureurs, who included La Hire and Jean de Bueil charged together with the avant-garde.191 At Beauvais (1429), by contrast, the French found the enemy already drawn up to receive them, as English coureurs had reported their progress.192 The coureurs of the rearguard or arrière coureurs also played an important role, as at Brainne (1424), when they warned the French that the English were in the field.193 Protecting the rear was important and some mounted men-atarms were designated to follow the rear-guard to ensure that the coureurs returned safely and in a disciplined way with their news: “pour soustenir aucuns coureurs, s’ilz venoient par derrière pour crier alarme, et pour garder que bruyt ne viengne en vostre bataille.”194 On Edward IV’s march from Northampton to London, a rear-guard was deployed consisting of “his behind-rydars,” and “a good band of speres and archars” to counter any trouble he might encounter on “the bakhalfe.”195 On the line of march, it was crucial for the different formations to keep in contact. The Burgundian force assembled “allèrent courre” against the Gantois before Lokeren (1452) demonstrates the order in which units were expected to proceed. Jacques de Lalaing and Morelet de Renty were placed in charge of the coureurs, who consisted of those “tant de belles apertises d’armes” together with Jehan, the Bastard de Renty and his archers. The roads were rutted and lined with trees and overgrown hedges, providing perfect terrain for an ambush. Rumors circulated that the road had been cut and visual contact between the Ibid. Clifford J. Rogers, War Cruel and Sharp, English Strategy under Edward III, 1327–1360 (Woodbridge, 2000), pp. 364–65. 189 Froissart, Chroniques, 2:481. 190 Waurin, Recueil des croniques, 3:301–02. 191 Le Jouvencel, 1: xxv, n. 5. Chartier, Chronique de Charles VII, 1:86: “et à celle heure lesditz coureurs et avant-guarde des François…férirent sur iceulx Angloiz en telle manière…se prindrent à fuir.” 192 Waurin, Recueil des croniques, 3:350. 193 Ibid., 3:171. Monstrelet, La chronique, 4:228: “nouvelles par leurs arriere coureurs de cheval quilz avoient laissie derriere eulx, que les Anglois estoient sur les champz.” 194 Le Jouvencel, 1:159; 1:217. 195 The Arrivall, p. 14. Le Jouvencel 1:73, considered it wise to place a strong body of mounted troops in the rear to deal with potential problems. 187 188

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various groups, considered essential by Le Jouvencel, was lost. The faint-hearted began to lose their nerve: “the main battle was unable to see the avant-garde, nor the avant-garde the coureurs, nor the coureurs the avant-coureurs, and as a result several were so frightened that the valiant were unable to reassure them.”196 Since coureurs were in smaller numbers relative to the rest of the army, and with many in lighter armor, it was important that heavy cavalry support was available.197 The order of march and the importance of mounted support were again demonstrated at Overmaire (1452). Jacques de Lalaing was, once again, in charge of the coureurs along with Anthoine de Vaudré, his brother William, and several other nobles with a force of twenty-five lances and eighty archers. Anthoine de Láviron was given command of the avant-coureurs and rode before the coureurs with seven or eight lances. The coureurs were followed by Daviot de Poix and the pioneers, tasked with removing barriers and repairing the roads. Other nobles, led by the lord of Lannoy, followed with a force of around a hundred mounted combatants ready to reinforce the coureurs should this prove necessary. Then came Morelet de Renty and the archers of the guard, followed by the standards and the main battle, while Jehan de Croy commanded the rearguard with 500 archers and 120 men-at-arms.198 Although coureurs could hold their own for a period, as at Ghent (1452) when Burgundian “courreurs escarmoucherrent assez longuement” with the Gantois, sooner or later they would require assistance from well-armored mounted troops.199 Hence the importance of not losing contact with the vanguard on the line of march, so that reserves could be summoned by a trumpet call.200 Before Poitiers (1356) Geoffroi de Charney rode out to provide mounted support for the French coureurs should this prove necessary.201 At Saint Valery (1422), the earl of Warwick had to hasten “atout sa puissance” to sustain his coureurs, who had been set upon by experienced French men-at-arms riding strong, barded horses.202 Waurin gives a further example where the coureurs were so forcefully repulsed that the avantgarde had to come to their rescue.203 Failure to reconnoiter the line of march was asking for trouble. When the English and Burgundians advanced on Guerbigny (1430), they proceeded Chastellain, Oeuvres 2:255: “La bataille ne pouvoit voir l’avant-garde, ni l’avant-garde les coureurs, ni les coureurs les avant-coureurs, pour quoi les plusieurs furent si épouvantés que les vaillans ne les pouvoient rassurer.” 197 Dominic Lieven, Russia Against Napoleon, The True Story of the Campaigns of War and Peace (London, 2009), p. 297, considers that light horsemen were more effective and performed with greater confidence if they knew that regular cavalry were ready to sustain them. 198 Chastellain, Oeuvres, 2:261–62. Richard Vaughan, Philip the Good (1970, repr. Woodbridge, 2002), pp. 32–32, gives a full English translation. 199 D’Escouchy, Chronique, 1:398. 200 Le Jouvencel, 1:135. 201 Chronique des quatre premiers Valois, p. 51. 202 Waurin, Recueil de chroniques, 2:413. 203 Ibid., 5:337–38: “advantgarde furent constrains de venir au secours.” 196



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without any order of battle and failed to “envoyer leurs coureurs devant eulx,” as those experienced in war should have known to do. The column became further dispersed when several hares were sighted, and the men gave chase. Meanwhile Poton de Xaintrailles, with 300 combatants “expers et esprouvés en armes.” wisely sent out coureurs, who reported upon the disordered state of the enemy. The subsequent French charge was decisive with many Anglo-Burgundians unhorsed or knocked to the ground. Thomas Kyriel tried to rally the survivors but was eventually captured, following considerable loss.204 A tardy response to information provided by the coureurs could prove equally disastrous. During the Franco-Burgundian siege of Marck in 1405, coureurs gave prompt warning of an English approach but nothing was done. The Genoese had not replenished their bolts, and the army, having failed to form, was destroyed by the longbow.205 Defeating the opposing coureurs and preventing them from ascertaining “vostre convine et vostre puissance,” was a top priority as it effectively blinded the opposition.206 At La Gravelle (1423), the English coureurs initially rebuffed their French counterparts but when the latter received cavalry support, they were driven back to their own lines and forced to dismount among the vanguard. Consequently, when the English advanced they were unable to see what the French were doing and were easily out-maneuvered.207 The Yorkist defeat at Wakefield (1460) owed much to the loss of their fore-riders at Worksop, which resulted in poor reconnaissance, failure to protect the foragers, and complacency.208 At Barnet (1471) a preliminary skirmish proved decisive, when Edward IV’s afore-riders having defeated those of the Earl of Warwick, chased them out of the town and discovered the main Lancastrian position. This was located on high ground “undre an hedge-syde,” lining the main road, from where Warwick had hoped to “take the king’s troops in detail as they came out of the narrow streets of Barnet.” However, having ascertained his opponent’s dispositions, Edward determined upon a night march to avoid debouching from the town in daylight, and deployed his men as close to the enemy as possible.209 Coureurs were frequently involved in entrapment, often by screening a more powerful force. At Sens (ca. 1373), Olivier de Clisson used the ploy of a double ambush, placing 200 mounted men-at-arms in the first ambush with orders to flee when the coureurs, who had goaded the English into pursuit, passed their position. Believing that they had uncovered a trap, the elated English continued Monstrelet, La chronique, 4:422. Juliet Barker, Conquest. The English Kingdom of France 1417–1450 (London, 2009), p. 153. 205 Monstrelet, La chronique, 1:100–03, the English had previously sent a hundred men-atarms to reconnoiter the besiegers’ positions and based on their information had realized that an attack could be successful. Waurin, Recueil des croniques, 2:96: “lardez du trait.” 206 Le Jouvencel, 2:35. 207 Chartier, Chronique de Charles VII, 1:36: “ilz ne povoient bonnement veoir.” 208 Goodman, The Wars of The Roses, p. 42, pp. 177–80, on scouting activities during the period. 209 The Arrivall, p. 18. Ramsay, Lancaster and York, 2:370. 204

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the chase in a disorderly manner until suddenly confronted by the main French body of 1,200 men-at-arms. The English lost six hundred men and numerous prisoners in the battle that followed, and were so cowed by their defeat that they subsequently refused to pursue any horsemen who appeared before them even though it meant sustaining additional casualties.210 At Escallon/Marchenoir (1427) the defenders were deceived into thinking that they were being attacked only by coureurs, who masked the main strike force, which was double mounted.211 In 1475, the bastard of Bourbon burnt numerous villages and towns in Artois, leaving the inhabitants desperate for revenge. They determined to sally forth, led by the count of Romont, who ensured that the enterprise was placed in good order with “avant coureurs…avant garde et bataille.” At first all went well and the Burgundians, despite being short of cavalry, defeated the French avant-coureurs, only to be faced with other French coureurs in greater numbers than before, who screened five hundred or more well-armed mounted men-at-arms.212 With their retreat to Arras cut off, the Burgundians suffered a major defeat, losing most of their foot with many nobles captured. One of the principal roles of coureurs, a sine qua non for the survival of the army, was in foraging to secure supplies. Foraging was an all-consuming task, an immense operation, as provisions for men and horses were needed almost daily.213 Coureurs either acted as foragers themselves or provided a mounted guard for those engaged in the activity.214 They were also concerned with disrupting and killing enemy foragers. Foraging inevitably led to dispersal, making the participants highly vulnerable to cavalry, allowing coureurs to inflict considerable damage and then retreat when the enemy managed to form.215 Sir Thomas Gray notes that men-at-arms disguised themselves as foragers in the hope of provoking an attack by appearing disorganized.216 Foragers, however, usually required significant mounted protection, especially when operating close to the enemy.217 Cavalry superiority, which involved quality as well as numbers, Cabaret, La chronique du bon duc Loys, pp. 54–55. Le Jouvencel, 1:116; 1:139, n. 4. 212 De Haynin, Mémoires, 2: 275–77. 213 Rogers, Soldiers’ Lives, p. 11, suggests that a typical provision was for a soldier to receive 1,250 grams (2.75 lbs.) of bread daily, if he was to function effectively. Bread in its different forms was the single most important item in the diet of the Middle Ages and remained so until the eighteenth century. Therefore 5,000 men at say 2 lbs. per day equals 10,000 lbs. (in flour or loaves), plus, of course, hay and meal for the horses. See Mollie M. Madden, The Black Prince and the Grande Chevauchée of 1355 (Woodbridge, 2018), pp. 101–06 on the logistics of supply and speed of movement. 214 Froissart, Chroniques,1:339 where the English coureurs are unable to find forage. Rogers, Soldiers’ Lives, p. 84. 215 Chronique des quatre premiers Valois, p. 112 where 300 English coureurs surprise and kill French foragers but retreat when the French form up. 216 Scalacronica, p. 185. 217 Richard Vaughan, Charles the Bold (1973, repr. Woodbridge, 2002), p. 324, at the siege of Neuss (1474–1475), the Burgundians required three hundred lances to protect their foragers. 210 211



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was crucial in this situation, a further reason why coureurs needed to include experienced men-at-arms.218 Strong bodies of coureurs, acting as outriders, could create a safe zone for their own foragers by effectively sealing off the approaches to hostile cavalry.219 Those sent out to forage and pillage in Edward III’s 1346 campaign usually returned to the safety of the main column in the evening, both to off-load their spoils and avoid interception by a more powerful enemy force.220 However, the different functions of coureurs were not mutually exclusive. Foraging and scouting did not require duplication, as gaining intelligence of the location of supplies was crucial for an army on the march. In 1418, the count of Armagnac sent coureurs “fourragier,” or to pillage the territory of Callot de Dully, but they quickly returned to report that he was already in the field with a strong force.221 Foraging, pillaging, and ravaging were usually part of the same operation, and although there was no legal limit to the amount of spoil and prisoners that could be taken in a public or just war, one declared by princes (guerre de prince), that was not the perception of those compelled to endure such outrages.222 As Cabaret noted, coureurs were routinely sent throughout the countryside to acquire plunder “comme il est de coustume,” and so along with foragers were often simply regarded as marauders.223 A courerie, or incursion of “gens de guerre,” was similar to a chevauchée or rèse, being a destructive war ride inextricably linked to ravaging, foraging, pillaging, and abduction, part of the “innumerables maulz” or harmful actions habitually performed by men-at-arms.224 Coureurs were the main instrument of chevauchée, a strategy of devastation designed to provoke battle, cause political destabilization, and inflict economic attrition.225 Riding en courerie involved arson, pillaging, depopulation, and equine theft. The bourgeois de Valenciennes emphasized burning above all else, and any town with a bell tower was routinely fired.226 The coureurs who entered Hainault Le Jouvencel, 2:232, on the importance of cavalry superiority in the contest for supply. Rogers, Soldiers’ Lives, p. 91. 220 The True Chronicles of Jean le Bel, 1290–1360, trans. Nigel Bryant (Woodbridge, 2011), p. 171. 221 Chronique anonyme pour le règne de Charles VI, 1400–1422 in Monstrelet, La chronique, 6:250. 222 Froissart, Chroniques, 1:295: “envoyérent leurs coureurs découvrir et prendre.” M. H. Keen, The Laws of War in the Late Middle Ages (London, 1965), pp. 80–81, 139–142. 223 Cabaret, La chronique du bon duc Loys, p. 203. Godefroy, Dictionnaire, 4:93 defines a forager as a marauder or pillager. 224 Ibid., 2:337. Waurin, Recueil de chroniques, 2:182: “Les Anglois doncques estans illec a siege fourragoient, couroient, et pilloient le pays denviron pour avitallier leur ost, si prenoient prisonniers et faisoient innumerables maulz ainsi que gens darmes ont coustume de faire.” 3:138: “de grans pillages, rencontres et destrousses…de grans et innumerables maulz…est coustume de faire en guerre.” 225 Rogers, “By Fire and Sword,” p. 57. 226 Récits d’un bourgeois de Valenciennes (XIVième siècle), ed. Kervyn de Lettenhove (Louvain, 1877), pp. 169, 175, 177, 223, 278. John Gillingham, “Richard I and the Science of War in the Middle Ages,” in John Gillingham and J.C. Holt, eds. War And Government 218

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in 1340 with the duke of Normandy burnt nine towns on the first day, and eleven more on the next.227 In 1380 English coureurs burnt sixty or more villages on the road to Rheims, in a violent assault or empainte.228 “Coureries et pillories” were closely associated and coureurs regularly participated in ravaging expeditions designed to beat up the countryside.229 Buchon defines courir as “parcourir en ravageant,” with the word becoming synonymous with burning, pillaging, and devastation: “courue et détruite,” “courue et robée,” “toute courue et pillée,” “toute courue, arse et détruite,” “courue et arse.”230 Froissart refers to English and Navarrois coureurs as “pilleurs.”231 Unsurprisingly, horsemen, who terrorized and devastated the countryside, were frequently described as coureurs. Those operating from captured castles or towns caused even more damage as they could scour the surrounding areas at leisure.232 In 1442, Pierre Renault repaired and re-provisioned the fortress of Milly, and with a garrison of 200 men made mounted sorties “day after day” upon the Burgundian held countryside, securing valuable prisoners.233 The intolerable situation finally ended when, to the unrestrained joy of the local populace, the count of Étampes captured Milly after a prolonged siege, “et déboutement des dessusdiz coureurs.”234 Destructive actions around towns were designed to infuriate the inhabitants, provoking an ill-considered response, where the defenders would immediately sally forth at a disadvantage, “demy armez et desarmez,” or be lured by coureurs into a prepared ambush.235 At Ghent (1452), Burgundian coureurs fired the suburbs, taking prisoners and cattle, before retiring upon their supports. The enraged Gantois tried several times to pursue but were driven back by waiting men-at-arms.236 Trying to control an irate populace was extremely difficult, even when a trap was suspected. Sometimes caution prevailed as when, according to Froissart, Scottish coureurs burnt the hamlets around Newcastle in 1346. The outraged inhabitants desired immediate revenge but were prevented by their In The Middle Ages (Woodbridge, 1984), p. 85, p. 85, n. 39 on Henry V’s remarks that war without fire was worthless: “guerre sans feu ne valoit rien.” 227 Froissart, Chroniques, 1:97. 228 Froissart, Chroniques, 2:100. 229 Godefroy, Dictionnaire, 2:337. 230 Ibid., Froissart, Chroniques, 1:viii. Also: 1:174; 1:175; 1:209; 1:383; 1;688; 1:711. Le Bel, Chronique has similar phraseology, 2:12: “toute courue, pillée et gastée, et toutes les gens chassées hors,” 2:43: “courue et robée,” 2:78: “courue et robée partout,” 2:84: “toute robée et courue.” Compact OED, 2:2676: by the seventeenth century, the English equivalent scourer had also developed an association with riotous destruction. 231 Froissart, Chroniques, 1:393. Vinaver, Malory, 1:229: “Whither pryckyst thou, pylloure.” 232 Rogers, “By Fire and Sword,” p. 48. 233 Monstrelet, La chronique, 6:61–65: “avoit couru et curoit continuellement de jour en jour les villes et pays.” 234 Ibid., “pour lequel voyage et déboutement des dessusdiz coureurs, tous les pays qui avoient accustumé d’estre courus et pilliés furent très joieuse.” 235 Knighton’s Chronicle, p. 177: the suburbs were fired “ut eos provocaret ad pugnam.” Le Jouvencel, 2:16–17. 236 D’Escouchy, Chronique, 1:397–98.



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leaders.237 Similarly in 1360 when English coureurs caused uproar within the suburbs of Paris, those within the city sat tight.238 On other occasions experienced commanders took risks, which led to their capture. Thomas de Gray was taken in a well-prepared ambush when he left Norham (1355) to pursue Scottish raiders and foragers.239 Poton de Xaintrailles was captured when he rushed out of Beauvais in 1431 to rashly pursue the coureurs of the count of Arundel.240 However, when eighty English “gens d’armes coureurs,” approached Ribemont (1373), despite warnings of a possible ruse de guerre, the French accepted the risk and engaged in a successful skirmish.241 Often the desire for immediate retaliation engendered a precipitate response. In 1352 English coureurs seized cattle and raided up to the barriers of Saint-Omer in a dawn attack. Edouard de Beaujeu roused his knights and squires but, without waiting for them all to assemble, set out in hot pursuit with around a hundred men. When the English realized that their pursuers were not in great number, they made a stand and de Beaujeu was killed before the main French party could arrive.242 Coureurs captured small towns using similar methods, following a night march they would assault the town gates at dawn when they were opened to allow the inhabitants to go about their business. At Escallon/ Marchenoir (1427), the irate citizens rushed out partially armed, “à pié et à cheval aprez les courreurs,” only to be attacked in their turn by thirty lances commanded by Gervaise Nardereau.243 However, when Burgundian coureurs tried to take Villy (1443) in a similar enterprise, although the town gates were open, the guard proved too strong and a prolonged siege resulted.244 Coureurs carried out numerous nocturnal mounted raids whereby, according to the Tudor writer Thomas Audley, a commander was advised to constantly “greve his ennemyes.”245 Daylight excursions were hazardous because it only required a single traveller or one or two foragers operating at a distance from their base to alert the enemy, who could then prepare to meet their intended attackers with fresh horses and rested men.246 Horses, however, have excellent night vision so the main highways could be avoided and the absence of foragers meant that it was possible to get close to the enemy without being observed.247 Froissart, Chroniques, 1:253: “les Anglois …vouloient issir hors soudainement ceux qui tells outrages faisoient, mais leurs souverains ne les laissèrent.” 238 Scalacronica, pp. 172–73. 239 Ibid., p. xl. 240 Chartier, Chronique de Charles VII, 1:132–33. 241 Froissart, Chroniques, 1:680: “courir ci-devant pour nous attraire de notre garnison.” 242 Ibid., 1:295–96. 243 Le Jouvencel 2:14–18; 2:130, where the covering force rides round the walls to round up escapees. Monstrelet, La Chronique, 5:117: an alternative was to ride through the night and take a town by escalade, as did 300 “vaillans gens d’eslite” at Rue (1435). 244 De la Marche, Mémoires, 2:15–18. 245 Audley, Tudor “Arte of Warre,” p. 24. 246 Le Jouvencel, 2:242–43. 247 Ibid., 1:33–34; 1:106–07; 2:16 “ne travers nul grant chemin.” Molinet, Chroniques, 4:319: 237

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Thus, 40 lances of coureurs from Hainault made a night attack on the French camp near Tressin (1340), and caused chaos by cutting down the tent cords and poles.248 In 1367 Spanish coureurs attacked the Black Prince’s encampment near Vittoria at night, damaging the baggage and killing many in their beds.249 Numerous similar actions were undertaken by combatants who would fall within de Bueil’s definition of coureurs but who had no specific title. Long circuitous nocturnal journeys through woods and wasteland, moving as quickly as possible, covering hoofmarks, repairing broken foliage, stifling the neighing of horses, preventing the rattling of weapons and armor were all actions more likely to be successful when performed by experienced lightly-armed troops such as coureurs.250 Hence the sire de Fauquement with four hundred lances set out at dusk, skirting woods and forests to make a devastating attack at midnight on the duke of Normandy, before returning to Quesnoy at sunrise.251 At Saincte-Susanne (1432), Ambrois de Loré with 170 combatants, a mixed force of men-at-arms and archers, travelled by moonlight to surprise an English encampment.252 At Étrépagny (1435), the French made a nocturnal journey of more than 36 miles to fall upon the English, capturing Matthew Gough. On this occasion it was the English, having no time to arm, who suffered from arrow fire.253 The appearance of horsemen before a town caused consternation as it was sometimes difficult to determine whether they were friend or foe.254 However, the presence of coureurs could result in a parley or mediation, as at Montalban (1367) when Jean Trivet was given a safe-conduct to discuss territorial incursions with the Count of Narbonne.255 Similarly, when English coureurs came before Ormes (1356), the citizens negotiated a treaty of accord to prevent the town from being sacked.256 In an unusual assignment, English coureurs wearing white linen emblazoned with the cross of St George, rode up to the French

avant-coureurs from Hainault travel as fast as possible via hidden and deserted tracks, “par chemins couverts, non guaires hantez,” in the hope of catching the French off guard (1492). 248 Froissart, Chroniques,1:121. 249 Pope and Lodge, Life of the Black Prince, p. 83: “en lour litz maintz tuez sont,” p. 158. 250 Le Jouvencel, 1:107–08. 251 Froissart, Chroniques, 1:97–98: “chevaucha cette vesprèe tout sagement,” 252 Chartier, Chronique de Charles VII, 1:161. 253 Le Jouvencel, 1:107–09: “car les pluseurs n’estoient point armez. Par quoy il y en eut de navrez et de mors en très grant nombre. 1:109, n. 2. 254 Robert Fabyan, The New Chronicles of England and France, in Two Parts, ed. Henry Ellis (London, 1811), p. 362: when the Earl of Gloucester’s “fore rydars” advanced upon London, the citizens wisely shut the gates against them. 255 Froissart, Chroniques, 1:516. 256 Ibid., 1:317. The Scandalous Chronicle, in the Memoirs of Philip de Commines, trans. and ed. Andrew R. Scobie, 2 vols. (London, 1879), 2:368. Vaughan, Charles the Bold, pp. 77–78: It could be dangerous to place too much reliance on good faith. At Nesle (1472), the inhabitants were slaughtered after surrendering to an advance guard of Burgundian cavalry.



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siege lines at Chizé (1373) to tempt the French into giving battle.257 Coureurs also spread disinformation. Prior to Tewkesbury (1471), the Lancastrians sent numerous “aforerydars” to Taunton, Salisbury, Yeovil, and other towns in the hope of recruiting men to their cause, and to spread false information regarding their army’s line of march. Fortunately, for the Yorkists, Edward IV was not deceived.258 Such missions carried the threat of coercion, as did other activities where coureurs or “scurryers” rounded up fugitives from their own side or, as at Bosworth (1485), prevented the less enthusiastic from deserting.259 Shadowing and harassing enemy columns were further essential functions of coureurs. In February 1470, as the Burgundians, lacking supplies, headed for shelter during freezing conditions, they were constantly followed by French “avant coureurs…douze bien montés,” who would hang on the rear of the army and kill or capture those who fell behind. They were finally driven off when two serpentines were fired in their direction.260 Fear of being intercepted by coureurs kept merchants away from the army, which not only deprived the troops of bread but raised its price, leading to extortion and racketeering.261 Although coureurs pursued by superior numbers might dismount to make a stand when about to be overtaken, the presence of mounted archers within the group gave them the opportunity of fighting on foot in a more managed and accomplished way.262 Missile power provided flanking fire and cover when bad terrain or enemy fortifications forced the coureurs to dismount, as happened on several occasions during the Ghent Wars of 1452. At Lokeren (1452), Jacques de Lalaing and Morelet de Renty were in charge of the coureurs who rode before the army but were ready to fight on foot should this prove necessary.263 Supported by the archers, Jacques de Lalaing and his men spent most of the time fighting dismounted, and when he eventually found a small horse, his feet were so sore that he was unable to place them in the stirrups.264 When the Burgundians crossed the bridge at Termonde, their avant-coureurs sighted the Gantois, who were lining a large ditch in front of a fortified boulevard. Jacques de Lalaing and the coureurs, a mixed force of archers and men-at-arms, once again dismounted, followed by the vanguard, while the rear-guard remained on horseback to see over the high hedgerows and protect the flanks and rear.265 At Nivelle (1452), the Gantois manned another fortified boulevard, having broken up the roads and Cuvelier, 2:302. The Arrivall, pp. 24–25. 259 Hall, Chronicle, p. 290: Edward IV’s light horsemen were directed to use “any persuasions…to allure the hartes” of the people to “were harness in his querel.” Froissart, Chroniques, 2:18. Polydore Vergil, English History, p. 225. 260 De Haynin, Mémoires, 2:168–69. 261 Ibid., 2:181. 262 Chartier, Chronique de Charles VII, 1:36. Froissart, Chroniques, 1:295–96. Rogers, Soldiers’ Lives, p. 92 on the dangers of being overtaken in flight. 263 Chastellain, Oeuvres, 2:253: “aller devant et defendre à pied si besoin estoit.” 264 Ibid., 2:255: “car il avoit esté longtemps à pied.” 265 Ibid., 2:261–68. 257 258

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scattered stakes and caltrops among the corn to prevent the approach of cavalry. The Burgundian coureurs again dismounted, crossing ditches with water up to their chins, to assault the fortifications while their archers gave flanking fire.266 The combination of cavalry and archers was extremely powerful, as at Oudenaarde (1452) where a mounted sortie was able to retreat without loss when the archers gave covering fire.267 Cavalry that out-paced their archers or charged without them soon ran into difficulties. At Neuss (1475), the Burgundian horse could not sustain their initial inroads into the Imperial lines because they had failed to wait for their archers. The subsequent repulse endangered the whole Burgundian right wing.268 Hence, in a chevauchée or courerie, it was crucial that all the archers were mounted so that they could keep up with their men-at-arms.269 In Edward III’s 1346 expedition all the horses were disembarked first so that the men-at-arms and archers could immediately begin to ravage the Contentin.270 Similarly, it was important for coureurs to comprise a variety of combatants, so that they could be mutually supportive. An expedition that lacked the correct balance of troops could go badly wrong. At Walers (1477) a hundred men-atarms set out to burn the village but were lacking in archers and had no means of ignition. They dismounted, expecting to see off a small group of peasants who had the temerity to oppose them, but were so fiercely assaulted that most were killed or put to flight.271 Similarly, at “La Journée de la Viefville” (1479) the archers dismounted to deal with those who had been unhorsed but, lacking mounted support, were quickly overrun and slain by Flemish pikemen.272 Finally, coureurs could be used as a holding force or to test the mettle of their opponents. At Furnes (1297), when the Count of Artois was attacked while dining, the coureurs were sent forward to buy time for the army to deploy.273 According to Polydore Vergil, at Barnet (1471) the Earl of Warwick likewise ordered light horsemen to relieve the pressure on his front line.274 At Neuss (1474-1475), Pierre de Miraumont was given command of 50 lances of avant coureurs to test the courage of his adversaries and gain knowledge of their order of battle.275

266 Ibid.,

2:269–70. la Marche, Mémoires, 2:229. 268 Molinet, Chroniques, 1:131. 269 Schnerb, “La bataille rangée,” p. 10, considers that the whole Burgundian army was mounted at the beginning of the fifteenth century, stressing that this was crucial in a chevauchée. Ayton, Knights and Warhorses, pp. 10–25, 17, on the importance of mixed retinues of men-at-arms and mounted archers, preferably in equal numbers. Madden, Grande Chevauchée of 1355, p. 47, confirms the need for all the archers to be mounted. 270 Le Bel, Chronique, 2:76. Bryant, Chronicles of Jean le Bel, p. 171. 271 Ibid., 2:106–07. 272 Molinet, Chroniques, 2:215. 273 Istore et cronique de Flandres, 1:215. 274 Polydore Vergil, English History, p. 146: as his men began to tire, Warwick relieved those in “the first front with a troup of light horsemen,” who caused the enemy to give ground. 275 Molinet, Chroniques, 1:122. 267 De



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Numbers As the source material is mostly narrative in nature an accurate assessment is difficult. The number of coureurs could vary considerably from one individual to three hundred or more men-at-arms together with their auxiliaries, depending upon the task at hand. A single coureur acted as a messenger at Ribement (1373) when the French sent “un de leurs coureurs” to inform those within the town that help was on the way.276 Three hundred well-mounted and -organized English and Navarrois coureurs left Vely and Roucy, in search of booty in 1359.277 While two to three hundred “chevaulx legièrement habilliez…qui ont nom coureurs” were detailed to steal the enemy horses in the “vallée deVausselle.”278 A similar number of “chevaulx legiers” covered the French march towards Naples (1501).279 Two hundred lances of coureurs were sent into Hainault by the duke of Normandy, while at Neuss (1475) fifty lances of avant-coureurs skirmished with the Imperial troops.280 In France and Italy (1400–1420), the lance consisted of a three-man and later a five-man unit, although in England it might only refer to a single individual.281 Translations confuse the issue as when Froissart’s “bien deux cents lances,” of coureurs who enter Hainault in 1340 are called by Thomas Johnes “the advanced guard.”282 Similarly, coureurs noted to comprise “quarante lances” are given as “forty persons altogether.”283 For Edward III’s chevauchée of 1346 coureurs were present in considerable numbers. Godfrey de Harcourt’s contingent of five hundred men-at-arms and two thousand archers operated to the right of the main English column, while the Earl of Suffolk with similar numbers devastated areas to the left, presumably dividing into smaller groups to complete the twenty-mile radius of destruction.284 Numbers were often much smaller. Monstrelet says the French had forty coureurs at Ivry (1424), d’Escouchy states they comprised forty to fifty combatants at Oudenaarde (1452), and Molinet gives “soixante chevaliers” “avantcoureurs” from Cologne at Neuss (1475).285 Sixty coureurs were detailed to 276 Froissart,

Chroniques, 1:679. Le Jouvencel, 1:215, where a coureur acted as a messenger to the count Pavanchières. 277 Froissart, Chroniques, 1:393: “trois cents tous bien montés et appareillés.” Chronique des quatre premiers Valois, p. 112: “trois cens Angloiz de cheval coureurs.” 278 Le Jouvencel, 1:150. 279 D’Auton, Chroniques, 2:28. 280 Froissart, Chroniques, 1:97. Molinet, Chroniques, 1:122. 281 Bell, Curry, King, and Simpkin, The Soldier in Later Medieval England, pp. 100–102. Potter, Renaissance France at War, pp. 70–71, on the French ordonnance of 1445 where the fighting effectives within the lance unit consisted of a man-at-arms, a coustillier, and two mounted archers. 282 Froissart, Chroniques, 1:97. Sir John Froissart, Chronicles of England, France and Spain, trans. Thomas Johnes, 2 vols. (London, 1848), 1:65. 283 Froissart, Chroniques, 1:121, Johnes, Froissart, Chronicles, 1:84. 284 Le Bel, Chronique, 2:76–77. Bryant, Chronicles of Jean le Bel, p. 171. Rogers, Soldiers’ Lives, p. 84. Rogers, “By Fire and Sword,” pp. 16–17. 285 Monstrelet, La chronique, 4:189. D’Escouchy, Chronique, 1:392. Molinet, Chroniques, 1:108.

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spearhead the assault on Escallon but, out of a total force of around eight hundred men, many others would have been lightly armed as the enterprise involved concealment in the spoil heaps and double mounting.286 Rogers considers that coureurs could vary between fifty to sixty or a hundred to a hundred and twenty men-at-arms, with a “strength of 300” not being unusual.287 Coureurs were usually significantly outnumbered by those whom they were planning to attack. However, their organization into small, cohesive, mounted groups gave them a considerable advantage. Large bodies of coureurs might warn the enemy of an impending incursion, giving time for villagers to hide their goods and seek refuge in towns and forests. Smaller units could travel quickly over difficult terrain without being detected and gain the advantage of surprise.288 They could attack suddenly, retreat swiftly, disperse and rally more effectively than larger, unwieldy bodies of horse, as well as presenting a less obvious target to artillery.289 Small mobile bands of coureurs could do widespread damage within a short period of time.290 Conclusion The absence of coureurs from nominative, account sources, and most of the secondary literature, makes it inevitable that an investigation into their activities would, to some extent, become a catalogue of information and events. Nevertheless, despite the confusing terminology, certain determinations are possible. The coureurs’ triple role of scouting, skirmishing and ravaging seems to have developed in tandem from their first appearance. While the roles of scouts, spies, and coureurs might overlap, on many occasions there was a discernible difference as armed coureurs were often sent to support the former should they come under attack. The term coureur could, therefore, be used in both a generalist as well as in a technical sense with Jean de Bueil attempting to formulate a more precise military definition.291 It was preferable that coureurs acting as scouts should be experienced men-atarms, who possessed the froideur to get close enough to the enemy to report accurately on their numbers and dispositions, while returning in time to allow their own army to deploy. Scouting and raiding by coureurs could be dangerous activities during daylight and were often more effective at night. Coureurs assembled as a strike force comprised elite men-at-arms and their auxiliaries, mounted on strong, reliable horses, often with lighter equipment, enabling them to travel Le Jouvencel, 1:130–140. Rogers, Soldiers’ Lives, p. 84. 288 Molinet, Chroniques, 4:319. 289 Evans, Works of Sir Roger Williams, p. cxi. Harbinson, “The Lance in the Fifteenth Century,” p. 159, on the effectiveness of smaller groups of horsemen. 290 Clifford J. Rogers, “The Role of Cavalry in Medieval Warfare,” forthcoming article in the Journal of Military History, (referenced by kind permission of the author), typescript pp. 12–14. Rogers, “By Fire and Sword,” pp. 37–40. 291 Taylor and Taylor, Le Jouvencel, pp. 15–16. 286 287



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considerable distances to achieve surprise in nocturnal and dawn raids.292 Good quality rouncies and coursers were preferred that possessed both the speed and endurance to carry their riders to safety, and, when necessary, make a decisive return to the fray. Apart from a shaffron, the horses were unbarded, allowing them to out-distance their opponents and rally quickly. Many coureurs were nobles, as were their commanders, because a degree of wealth was necessary to purchase the very best mounts for themselves and their retinues. Nobles were keen to serve as coureurs because it offered excitement, skirmish warfare, lucrative captives, plunder, and the coveted opportunity of chivalrous combat. The presence of experienced warriors gave the group leadership and strength, but there were disadvantages. The capture of prominent noblemen acting as coureurs could warn the enemy of an impending assault and lead to its abandonment. A substantial body of coureurs required its own outriders or avant-coureurs, who were initially scouts but rapidly became synonymous with the coureurs themselves. Large groups of coureurs could, however, be counterproductive, warning the enemy of a hostile approach, and, in certain circumstances, it was better to dispense with their services, as smaller mounted bands were often more effective. There is, however, no evidence to suggest the existence of an actual coureur identity, in the same way that hobelars were regarded as a defined category of troops. Foraging, pillaging, raiding, skirmishing, reconnaissance in force, ambushes and sorties, were often undertaken by lightly-armed men-at-arms and their auxiliaries, who were sometimes called coureurs but often had no specific title. As Le Jouvencel suggests, coureurs were defined more by the roles they performed rather than being a specific subset of the army.293 Being a coureur, therefore, seems to have been more of a duty regularly accepted by men-at-arms, allowing them to operate as both heavy and light cavalry. While it is not possible to know how coureurs were armed on every occasion, they were probably an aggregate of both types of horsemen, with the fully armored adding staying power. Although many coureurs wore light armor, by the fifteenth century this was a relative phenomenon. A breastplate or brigandine with an arrêt de cuirasse was essential if lance-armed combat was not to be precluded and might be worn by men-at-arms and lesser gentry, as well as coustilliers. When faced with more numerous or better-armed opponents, coureurs could hold their own for a while, but sooner or later would require mounted support, which was why it was important not to stray too far from the avant-garde. A crucial role for coureurs was ensuring the protection of the army. As outriders, they engaged in a constant struggle with their counterparts to prevent them from observing the strength and dispositions of their own side, while Gervase Phillips, The Anglo-Scots Wars 1513–1550, A Military History (Woodbridge, 1999), p. 28, considers that coustilliers, formed the basis for an independent light cavalry arm, which provided commanders with a long-range strike force, “substantially enlarging the battlefield.” 293 Le Jouvencel, 1:149. 292

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gathering as much information as possible about the numbers and formation of their opponents.294 Coureurs screened their own cavalry, who could then enter the engagement at the most propitious moment.295 While in larger groups, they could capture towns or draw a superior force into an ambush. Raids on towns and their environs caused major problems for the defenders because ignoring these incursions alienated the local population, while pursuing the raiders risked ambush and further loss. Coureurs were the main agents of chevauchée and courerie. Towns and villages pillaged, burnt, and destroyed, were described as being “ridden over,” courue or courute.296 However, the same actions that made coureurs notorious could also be deployed as a defensive measure against an invader: scorched earth and control of the “foraging nimbus” to win the contest for supply, allowed famine and disease to do the rest.297 Raiding siege lines, ambushing isolated columns, and attacking enemy encampments were all part of the strategy of “shadowing and harassment” to which coureurs were perfectly suited.298 Mounted archers could undertake some of the functions of coureurs such as foraging and escort duty, but lacked “the necessary survivability in the face of enemy men-atarms.”299 Hence the importance of a coureurs group consisting of a variety of personnel, whose armor and weapons made them mutually supportive. There is some evidence to suggest a change over time: avant-coureurs appeared in the mid-fourteenth century, while the term estradeur was appropriated to refer to the Venetian stradiots from the later part of the fifteenth century. The most significant development, however, came in the latter part of the fourteenth century when it was possible to attach the arrêt de cuirasse to a steel placard which was then fitted over the brigandine. The device allowed the heavy war lance to be used with lighter armor, as well as extending the way in which the javeline or lancegay could be deployed. The modification made coureurs more versatile, which in turn greatly enhanced their combat potential. The inclusion of mounted archers within the coureurs group was also impor-

Le Jouvencel, 2:25. Ibid., 2:128: “ne peussent avoir cognoissance de la puissance qui venoit derrière.” 296 Froissart, Chroniques, 1:516: “robeurs et pilleurs, qui ont robé et pillé, pris et couru mal dûmont sur le royaume de France.” Waurin, Recueil de chroniques, 3:138, where both sides “couroient lune contre lautre sur les marches a eulz annemies, ou il avoit souvent de grans pillages, rencontres et destrousses, et se faisoient partout de grans et innumerables maulz, ainsy que scavoir povez quen tel cas est coustume de faire en guerre.” 297 Rogers, “Cavalry in Medieval Warfare,” (forthcoming article), p. 31: the “foraging nimbus” surrounded an army on chevauchée, or an army conducting a major siege. 298 Gillingham, “William the Bastard at War,” pp. 155–56: “A strategy of shadowing and harassment involved rapid movement, often with fairly small forces; it involved sudden attacks and equally swift retreats…in this sort of warfare reconnaissance was vital.” 299 Rogers, “Cavalry in Medieval Warfare,” (forthcoming article), p. 17. Michael Mallett, Mercenaries and Their Masters: Warfare in Renaissance Italy (London, 1974), p. 152: mounted crossbowmen were used as light cavalry in Italy from 1430 until they were superseded by stradiots in 1463. 294 295



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tant, as it offered the possibility of fighting on foot in a well-organized manner, rather than as a measure of last resort. The Burgundians convincingly exploited this opportunity with their use of dismounted coureurs during the Ghent Wars (1449–1453). Moreover, the combination of mounted crossbowmen and troops armed with lancegays could cause significant problems for heavy cavalry. There is, however, little to suggest that coureurs, other than mounted archers, were paid differently from other troops, although scouts could be liberally rewarded. At Harfleur (1440), the Earl of Dorset spent a considerable sum on “chevauchers, messagiers et espies” sent to discover the intentions of the French.300 The tasks mentioned by Sir Roger Williams in his discussion of the employment of light horsemen were repeated a generation later by John Cruso, who suggests how cavalry should operate away from the main battlefield: The cavallrie must principally be employed to travel and molest the enemie, sometime by hindering him from his victuall, sometime by endamaging his forragers, sometime by sending some troops even up to his camp to take some bootie, by that means to draw him forth, and to make him fall upon some embuscadoe disposed beforehand in some fitting place.301

These precepts, however, had already been highlighted and exemplified by Jean de Bueil, and, as we have hopefully demonstrated from Le Jouvencel and numerous other sources, late medieval coureurs regularly performed all these roles.302 After 1500, the increased effectiveness of firearms forced plate armor to become heavier, leading Evans to conclude that men-at-arms were only useful in a pitched battle and “too heavily armed and clumsy to serve as scouts,” or fulfil the cavalry roles outlined by Williams and Cruso.303 The Italian Wars saw the eventual separation of heavy and light horse in Western Europe and the functions of infantry and cavalry subdivided.304 Coureurs became obsolescent Letters and Papers Illustrative of the Wars of the English in France during the Reign of Henry the Sixth, King of England, ed. Joseph Stevenson, 2 vols. in 3 parts (London, 1861– 1864), 2, pt. 1:314–15: Dorset spent 150 livres Tournois on sending individuals or groups to the borders of Picardy, which was more than it cost him to retain the services of Matthew Gough and his men at the siege. 2, pt. 1:286–87: In 1437, four English escoutes were each paid “three sols and fourpence Tournois” for every night spent in the countryside outside Rouen to watch for the approach of the French. 2, pt. 1:120, 1:144: messengers carrying dispatches were usually well recompensed. Rogers, Soldiers’ Lives, p. 106, n. 91, and Bachrach and Bachrach, Warfare in Medieval Europe, p. 353, on the recruitment and pay of scouts in Iberia. Contamine, Guerre, état et société, pp. 622–30 on the tendency towards higher rates for mounted archers. 301 John Cruso, Militarie Instructions for the Cavallrie (1632, repr. Amsterdam,1968), p. 89. 302 Le Jouvencel, 1:149 on coureurs as a strike force; 1:214–15; 2:128, on their role as scouts. 303 Evans, Works of Sir Roger Williams, pp. cxii–cxiii. Claude Blair, European Armour circa 1066 to circa 1700 (London, 1958), pp. 191–92 for tables of armor weights. Potter, Renaissance France at War, p. 79. 304 Taylor, Art of War in Italy, pp. 75–76. 300

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with light cavalry taking over most of their activities and to a certain extent their name. Jean d’Auton, for example, repeatedly refers to Spanish genitors and “chevaulx legièrs” as coureurs.305 Moreover, harquebuziers à cheval added the powerful support of gunpowder weapons to light cavalry operations replacing mounted crossbowmen.306 By the nineteenth century mounted troops were trained for specific combat roles: either as heavy or light horse or dragoons, it being rare for one type to perform the tasks of another.307 Medieval men-atarms, however, were not constrained by such rigid definitions, and, as coureurs, had the freedom to fight as both heavy and light cavalry, as well as on foot when required. Although this once widely recognized group of horsemen was largely subsumed into a specialized light cavalry role, it is hard not to feel that something was lost in the process. The admixture of combatants from different classes, with elite men-at-arms and mounted auxiliaries with a variety of armor and weapons imparted a degree of flexibility and resilience to a coureurs group that was difficult to replace.

D’Auton, Chroniques, 3:11: Ilz furent apparceuz par aucuns genetaires coureurs”; 3:10– 11: French “chevaulx legièrs” are called “icleux coureurs Françoys.” Similarly, Molinet, Chroniques, 2:207, refers to “chevaulchers jennetaires.” 306 Du Bellay, Discipline militaire, pp. 51–52. Evans, Works of Sir Roger Williams, pp. 31–32. 307 Jones, “Irish hobelar,” p. 13. 305

Contributors

Fabrizio Ansani is a research fellow at the Department of Historical Sciences of the University of Padova. He is interested in all the aspects of fifteenth-century warfare, including the establishment of military institutions, the development in weapons production, and the improvement in contemporary logistics. Above all, his studies analyze the impact of conflicts on the politics, the economy, and the society of the Florentine Republic, challenging the grand narrative of the martial decadence of this renaissance state. Michael C. Blundell is an independent scholar in Denmark whose interests include Viking and Medieval Scandinavia as well as military history. Evgeniy A. Gurinov is a project manager at the “Aniv” Foundation for Development and Support of Armenian Studies. He received his Ph.D. from Belarusian State University. His academic interests include the history of the Latin East with the focus on the relations among the Crusader states; the history of the Armenian diaspora; and the current state of international cooperation in science and technology. Among his publications is Vojska i vojny Latinskogo Vostoka: Grafstvo Edesskoe [Armies and Wars of the Latin East: The County of Edessa], with Maxim V. Nechitailov (Moscow, 2018). Michael John Harbinson is a retired general medical practitioner. He took a degree in English Language and Literature at Worcester College Oxford before studying medicine at the Middlesex Hospital Medical School London. He has a lifelong interest in medieval military history and has contributed previously to The Journal of Medieval Military History. His interests lie in the use of horsemen in the Hundred Years War and later fifteenth century, and he hopes eventually to produce a book upon the subject. Dr. Harbinson was awarded the Gillingham Prize in 2020. Donald J. Kagay is an expert on military affairs in Medieval Spain who has written fourteen books and some fifty articles on the subject, the most recent of which concern the War of the Two Pedros (1356–1366) and Queen Elionor of Sicily, the third wife of Pere III of Aragon. Though retired, he is still an adjunct professor at the University of Dallas.

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David Pilling is a writer and researcher, with a particular interest in thirteenth-century England and France, especially the duchy of Aquitaine. He is the author of over twenty published novels and fifty short stories, as well as works of nonfiction. He recently published the first of two volumes on The Wars of Edward I, covering 1255–1274. Clifford J. Rogers is a Professor of History at the United States Military Academy (West Point). His many books and articles on medieval warfare have been recognized with awards from the Royal Historical Society’s Alexander Prize to the Society for Military History’s Distinguished Book Award and Moncado Prize, as well as two Verbruggen Prizes and the Bachrach Medal from De Re Militari. His recent work has focused on early gunpowder and gunpowder artillery. Matthew Strickland is Professor of Medieval History at the University of Glasgow and Co-Director of the Scottish Centre for War Studies. His research has focused on conduct in medieval warfare, chivalric culture and the development of conventions governing hostilities, and more broadly on Anglo-Norman and Angevin political and military history. He is currently project is a study of the nature of aristocratic rebellion between the eleventh and early fourteenth century. His books include War and Chivalry: The Conduct and Perception of War in England and Normandy, 1066–1217; The Great Warbow, co-authored with Robert Hardy; and Henry the Young King, 1155–1183. Konstantinos Takirtakoglou received his Ph.D. in Byzantine history in 2017. His scholarly interests focus on the political and military relations between the Byzantine Empire and the peoples of the East, with a particular emphasis on the Arabs and the Armenians. He has taught as an adjunct lecturer at the Department of History and Archaeology, University of Ioannina.

Journal of Medieval Military History 1477–545X Volume I 1 The Vegetian “Science of Warfare” in the Middle Ages – Clifford J. Rogers 2 Battle Seeking: The Contexts and Limits of Vegetian Strategy – Stephen F. Morillo 3 Italia – Bavaria – Avaria: The Grand Strategy behind Charlemagne’s Renovatio Imperii in the West – Charles R. Bowlus 4 The Composition and Raising of the Armies of Charlemagne – John France 5 Some Observations on the Role of the Byzantine Navy in the Success of the First Crusade – Bernard S. Bachrach 6 Besieging Bedford: Military Logistics in 1224 – Emilie M. Amt 7 “To aid the Custodian and Council”: Edmund of Langley and the Defense of the Realm, June–July 1399 – Douglas Biggs 8 Flemish Urban Militias Against the French Cavalry Armies in the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries – J. F. Verbruggen (translated by Kelly DeVries)

Volume II 1 The Use of Chronicles in Recreating Medieval Military History – Kelly DeVries 2 Military Service in the County of Flanders – J. F. Verbruggen (translated by Kelly DeVries) 3 Prince into Mercenary: Count Armengol VI of Urgel, 1102–1154 – Bernard F. Reilly 4 Henry II’s Military Campaigns in Wales, 1157–1165 – John Hosler 5 Origins of the Crossbow Industry in England – David S. Bachrach 6 The Bergerac Campaign (1345) and the Generalship of Henry of Lancaster – Clifford J. Rogers 7 A Shattered Circle: Eastern Spanish Fortifications and Their Repair during the “Calamitous Fourteenth Century” – Donald Kagay 8 The Militia of Malta – Theresa M. Vann 9 “Up with Orthodoxy”: In Defense of Vegetian Warfare – John B. Gillingham 10 100,000 Crossbow Bolts for the Crusading King of Aragon – Robert Burns

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Volume III 1 A Lying Legacy? A Preliminary Discussion of Images of Antiquity and Altered Reality in Medieval Military History – Richard Abels and Stephen F. Morillo 2 War and Sanctity: Saints’ Lives as Sources for Early Medieval Warfare – John France 3 The 791 Equine Epidemic and its Impact on Charlemagne’s Army – Carroll Gillmor 4 The Role of the Cavalry in Medieval Warfare – J. F. Verbruggen 5 Sichelgaita of Salerno: Amazon or Trophy Wife? – Valerie Eads 6 Castilian Military Reform under the Reign of Alfonso XI (1312–1350) – Nicolas Agrait 7 Sir Thomas Dagworth in Brittany, 1346–1347: Restellou and La Roche Derrien – Clifford J. Rogers 8 Ferrante d’Este’s Letters as a Source for Military History – Sergio Mantovani 9 Provisions for the Ostend Militia on the Defense, August 1436 – Kelly DeVries

Volume IV 1 The Sword of Justice: War and State Formation in Comparative Perspective – Stephen F. Morillo 2 Archery Versus Mail: Experimental Archaeology and the Value of Historical Context – Russ Mitchell 3 “Cowardice” and Duty in Anglo-Saxon England – Richard Abels 4 Cowardice and Fear Management: The 1173–1174 Conflict as a Case Study – Steven Isaac 5 Expecting Cowardice: Medieval Battle Tactics Reconsidered – Stephen F. Morillo 6 Naval Tactics at the Battle of Zierikzee (1304) in the Light of Mediterranean Praxis – William Sayers 7 The Military Role of the Magistrates in Holland during the Guelders War – James P. Ward 8 Women in Medieval Armies – J. F. Verbruggen 9 Verbruggen’s “Cavalry” and the Lyon-Thesis – Bernard S. Bachrach 10 Dogs of War in Thirteenth-Century Valencian Garrisons – Robert I. Burns

Volume V 1 Literature as Essential Evidence for Understanding Chivalry – Richard W. Kaeuper 2 The Battle of Hattin: A Chronicle of a Defeat Foretold? – Michael Ehrlich 3 Hybrid or Counterpoise? A Study of Transitional Trebuchets – Michael Basista 4 The Struggle between the Nicaean Empire and the Bulgarian State (1254–1256): Towards a Revival of Byzantine Military Tactics under Theodore II Laskaris – Nicholas S. Kanellopoulos and Joanne K. Lekea



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5 A “Clock-and-Bow” Story: Late Medieval Technology from Monastic Evidence – Mark Dupuy 6 The Strength of Lancastrian Loyalism during the Readeption: Gentry Participation at the Battle of Tewkesbury – Malcolm Mercer 7 Soldiers and Gentlemen: The Rise of the Duel in Renaissance Italy – Stephen Hughes 8 “A Lying Legacy” Revisited: The Abels–Morillo Defense of Discontinuity – Bernard S. Bachrach

Volume VI 1 Cultural Representation and the Practice of War in the Middle Ages – Richard Abels 2 The Brevium Exempla as a Source for Carolingian Warhorses – Carroll Gillmor 3 Infantry and Cavalry in Lombardy (Eleventh–Twelfth Centuries) – Aldo Settia 4 Unintended Consumption: The Interruption of the Fourth Crusade at Venice and its Consequences – Greg Bell 5 Light Cavalry, Heavy Cavalry, Horse Archers, Oh My! What Abstract Definitions Don’t Tell Us About 1205 Adrianople – Russ Mitchell 6 War, Financing in the Late-Medieval Crown of Aragon – Donald Kagay 7 National Reconciliation in France at the end of the Hundred Years War – Christopher Allmand

Volume VII 1 The Military Role of the Order of the Garter – Richard W. Barber 2 The Itineraries of the Black Prince’s Chevauchées of 1355 and 1356: Observations and Interpretations – Peter Hoskins 3 The Chevauchée of John Chandos and Robert Knolles: Early March to Early June, 1369 – Nicolas Savy 4 “A Voyage, or Rather an Expedition, to Portugal”: Edmund of Langley’s Journey to Iberia, June/July 1381 – Douglas Biggs 5 The Battle of Aljubarrota (1385): A Reassessment – João Gouveia Monteiro 6 “Military” Knighthood in the Lancastrian Era: The Case of Sir John Montgomery – Gilbert Bogner 7 Medieval Romances and Military History: Marching Orders in Jean de Bueil’s Le Jouvencel introduit aux armes – Matthieu Chan Tsin 8 Arms and the Art of War: The Ghentenaar and Brugeois Militia in 1477–1479 – J. F. Verbruggen 9 Accounting for Service at War: The Case of Sir James Audley of Heighley – Nicholas Gribit 10 The Black Prince in Gascony and France (1355–1356): According to MS. 78 of Corpus Christi College, Oxford – Clifford J. Rogers

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Volume VIII 1 People Against Mercenaries: The Capuchins in Southern Gaul – John France 2 The Last Italian Expedition of Henry IV: Re-reading the Vita Mathildis of Donizone of Canossa – Valerie Eads 3 Jaime I of Aragon: Child and Master of the Spanish Reconquest – Donald Kagay 4 Numbers in Mongol Warfare – Carl Sverdrup 5 Battlefield Medicine in Wolfram’s Parzival – Jolyon T. Hughes 6 Battle-Seeking, Battle-Avoiding or Perhaps Just Battle-Willing? Applying the Gillingham Paradigm to Enrique II of Castile – Andrew Villalon 7 Outrance and Plaisance – Will McLean 8 Guns and Goddams: Was There a Military Revolution in Lancastrian Normandy 1415–1450? – Anne Curry 9 The Name of the Siege Engine Trebuchet: Etymology and History in Medieval France and Britain – William Sayers

Volume IX 1 The French Offensives of 1404–1407 against Anglo-Gascon Aquitaine – Guilhem Pépin 2 The King’s Welshmen: Welsh Involvement in the Expeditionary Army of 1415 – Adam Chapman 3 Gunners, Aides and Archers: The Personnel of the English Ordnance Companies in Normandy in the Fifteenth Century – Andy King 4 Defense, Honor and Community: The Military and Social Bonds of the Dukes of Burgundy and the Flemish Shooting Guilds – Laura Crombie 5 The Battle of Edgecote or Banbury (1469) Through the Eyes of Contemporary Welsh Poets – Barry Lewis 6 Descriptions of Battles in Fifteenth-Century Urban Chronicles: A Comparison of the Siege of London in May 1471 and the Battle of Grandson, 2 March 1476 – Andreas Remy 7 Urban Espionage and Counterespionage during the Burgundian Wars (1468–1477) – Bastian Walter 8 Urban Militias, Nobles and Mercenaries: The Organization of the Antwerp Army in the Flemish–Brabantine Revolt of the 1480s – Frederik Buylaert, Jan Van Camp and Bert Verwerft 9 Military Equipment in the Town of Southampton During the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries – Randall Moffett



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Volume X 1 The Careers of Justinian’s Generals – David Parnell 2 Early Saxon Frontier Warfare: Henry I, Otto I, and Carolingian Military Institutions – David S. Bachrach and Bernard S. Bachrach 3 War in The Lay of the Cid – Francisco Garcia Fitz 4 The Battle of Salado (1340) Revisited – Nicolas Agrait 5 Chivalry and Military Biography in the Later Middle Ages: The Chronicle of the Good Duke Louis of Bourbon – Steven Muhlberger 6 The Ottoman–Hungarian Campaigns of 1442 – John Jefferson 7 Security and Insecurity, Spies and Informers in Holland during the Guelders War (1506–1515) – James P. Ward 8 Edward I’s Wars in the Chronicle of Hagnaby Priory – Michael Prestwich

Volume XI 1 Military Games and the Training of the Infantry – Aldo A. Settia 2 The Battle of Civitate: A Plausible Account – Charles D. Stanton 3 The Square “Fighting March” of the Crusaders at the Battle of Ascalon (1099) – Georgios Theotokis 4 How the Crusades Could Have Been Won: King Baldwin II of Jerusalem’s Campaigns against Aleppo (1124–1125) and Damascus (1129) – T. S. Asbridge 5 Saint Catherine’s Day Miracle – the Battle of Montgisard – Michael Ehrlich 6 The Military Effectiveness of Alan Mercenaries in Byzantium, 1301–1306 – Scott Jesse and Anatoly Isaenko 7 Winning and Recalling Honor in Spain: Pro-English Poetry in Celebration of the Battle of Nájera (1367) – Donald J. Kagay and L. J. Andrew Villalon 8 The Wars and the Army of the Duke of Cephalonia Carlo I Tocco (c. 1375–1429) – Savvas Kyriakidis 9 Sir John Radcliffe, K. G. (d. 1441): Miles Famossissimus – A. Compton Reeves 10 Defense Schemes of Southampton in the Late Medieval Period, 1300–1500 – Randall Moffett 11 French and English Acceptance of Medieval Gunpowder Weaponry – Kelly DeVries

Volume XII 1 Some Observations Regarding Barbarian Military Demography: Geiseric’s Census of 429 and Its Implications – Bernard S. Bachrach 2 War Words and Battle Spears: The kesja and kesjulag in Old Norse Literature – K. James McMullen 3 The Political and Military Agency of Ecclesiastical Leaders in Anglo-Norman England: 1066–1154 – Craig M. Nakashian

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4 Couched Lance and Mounted Shock Combat in the East: The Georgian Experience – Mamuka Tsurtsumia 5 The Battle of Arsur: A Short-Lived Victory – Michael Ehrlich 6 Prelude to Kephissos (1311): An Analysis of the Battle of Apros (1305) – Nikolaos S. Kanellopoulos and Ioanna K. Lekea 7 Horse Restoration (Restaurum Equorum) in the Army of Henry of Grosmont, 1345: A Benefit of Military Service in the Hundred Years’ War – Nicholas A. Gribit 9 The Indenture between Edward III and the Black Prince for the Prince’s Expedition to Gascony, 10 July 1355 – Mollie M. Madden 10 Investigating the Socio-Economic Origins of English Archers in the Second Half of the Fourteenth Century – Gary Baker 11 War and the Great Schism: Military Factors Determining Allegiances in Iberia – L. J. Andrew Villalon

Volume XIII 1 Feudalism, Romanticism, and Source Criticism: Writing the Military History of Salian Germany – David S. Bachrach 2 When the Lamb Attacked the Lion: A Danish Attack on England in 1138? – Thomas K. Heebøll-Holm 3 Development of Prefabricated Artillery during the Crusades – Michael S. Fulton 4 Some Notes on Ayyubid and Mamluk Military Terms – Rabei G. Khamisy 5 Helgastaðir, 1220: A Battle of No Significance? – Oren Falk 6 Por la guarda de la mar: Castile and the Struggle for the Sea in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries – Nicolás Agrait 7 The Battle of Hyddgen, 1401: Owain Glyndwr’s Victory Reconsidered – Michael Livingston 8 The Provision of Artillery for the 1428 Expedition to France – Dan Spencer 9 1471: The Year of Three Battles and English Gunpowder Artillery – Devin Fields 110 ”Cardinal Sins” and “Cardinal Virtues” of “El Tercer Rey,” Pedro González de Mendoza: The Many Faces of a Warrior Churchman in Late Medieval Europe – L. J. Andrew Villalon 11 Late Medieval Divergences: Comparative Perspectives on Early Gunpowder Warfare in Europe and China – Tonio Andrade

Volume XIV 1 Anglo-Norman Artillery in Narrative Histories, from the Reign of William I to the Minority of Henry III – Michael S. Fulton 2 Imperial Policy and Military Practice in the Plantagenet Dominions, c. 1337–c. 1453 – David Green 3 The Parliament of the Crown of Aragon as Military Financier in the War of the Two Pedros – Donald J. Kagay



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4 Chasing the Chimera in Spain: Edmund of Langley in Iberia, 1381–1382 – Douglas Biggs 5 A Medieval City under Threat Turns Its Coat, While Hedging Its Bets – Burgos Faces an Invasion in Spring, 1366 – L. J. Andrew Villalon 6 Medieval European Mercenaries in North Africa: The Value of Difference – Michael Lower 7 Medieval Irregular Warfare, c. 1000–1300 – John France 8 Muslim Responses to Western Intervention: A Comparative Study of the Crusades and Post-2003 Iraq – Alex Mallett 9 “New Wars” and Medieval Warfare: Some Terminological Considerations – Jochen G. Schenk 10 Friend or Foe? The Catalan Company as Proxy Actors in the Aegean and Asia Minor Vacuum – Mike Carr

Volume XV 1 Later Roman Grand Strategy: The Fortification of the Urbes of Gaul – Bernard S. Bachrach 2 In Search of Equilibrium: Byzantium and the Northern Barbarians, 400–800 – Leif Inge Ree Petersen 3 Evolving English Strategies during the Viking Wars – Richard Abels 4 Norman Conquests: A Strategy for World Domination? – Matthew Bennett 5 The Papacy and the Political Consolidation of the Catalan Counties, c. 1060–1100: A Case Study in Political Strategy – Luis García-Guijarro Ramos 6 Alfonso VII of León-Castile in Face of the Reformulation of Power in Al-Andalus (1145–1157): An Essay on Strategic Logic – Manuel Rojas Gabriel 7 The Treaties between the Kings of León and the Almohads within the Leonese Expansion Strategy (1157–1230) – Maria Dolores García Oliva 8 A Strategy of Total War? Henry of Livonia and the Conquest of Estonia (1208–1227) – John Gillingham 9 The English Longbow, War and Administration – John France

Volume XVI 1 In the Field with Charlemagne, 791 – Carl Hammer 2 The Recruitment of Freemen into the Carolingian Army, or How Far May One Argue from Silence? – Walter Goffart 3 Baybars’ Strategy of War against the Franks – Rabei G. Khamisy 4 Food, Famine and Edward II’s Military Failures – Ilana Krug 5 The Impacts of Warfare on Woodland Exploitation in Late Medieval Normandy (1364–1380): Royal Forests as Military Assets during the Hundred Years’ War – Danny Lake-Giguère 6 Exercises in Arms: The Physical and Mental Combat Training of Men-at-Arms in the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries – Pierre Gaite

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Previous Volumes

7 The Skirmish: A Statistical Analysis of Minor Combats during the Hundred Years’ War: 1337–1453 – Ronald W. Braasch 8 Yron & Stele: Chivalric Ethos, Martial Pedagogy, Equipment, and Combat Technique in the Early Fourteenth Century Middle English Version of Guy of Warwick – Brian R. Price 9 Reframing the Conversation on Medieval Military Strategy – John Hosler

Volume XVII 1 Baktash the Forgotten: The Battle of Tell Bashir (1108) and the Saljuq Civil Wars – Drew Bolinger 2 The External Fortifications of ‘Atlit Castle, the Only Unconquered Crusader Stronghold in the Holy Land – Ehud Galili and Avraham Ronen 3 Holy Warriors, Worldly War: Military Religious Orders and Secular Conflict – Helen J. Nicholson 4 Elionor of Sicily: A Mediterranean Queen’s Two Lives of Family, Administration, Diplomacy, and War – Donald J. Kagay 5 Wives, Mistresses, Lovers, and Daughters: The Fortunes of War for Royal Women in Late Fourteenth Century Castile. OR: A Gender Limitation on Writing History from Chronicles – L. J. Andrew Villalon 6 The Lance in the Fifteenth Century: How French Cavalry Overcame the English Defensive System in the Latter Part of the Hundred Years War – Michael John Harbinson 7 Supplying the Army, 1498: The Florentine Campaign in the Pisan Countryside – Fabrizio Ansani 8 Fencing, Martial Sport, and Urban Culture in Early Modern Germany: The Case of Strasbourg – Ken Mondschein and Oliver Dupuis 9 Note: An Army on the March and in Camp – Guillaume Guiart’s Branche de royans lingnages – Michael Livingston

Volume XVIII 1 The Eastern Campaigns of King Henry II of Germany, 1003–1017 – David S. Bachrach 2 Peace, Popular Empowerment and the First Crusade – Jason MacLeod 3 The Transformation of Naval Warfare in Scandinavia During the Twelfth Century – Beñat Elortza Larrea 4 Auxiliary Peoples and Military Reform on Hungary’s Western Frontier in the Thirteenth Century – Sarolta Tatár 5 What Types of Sources Did Medieval Chroniclers Use to Narrate Battles? (England and France, Twelfth to Fifteenth Centuries) – Pierre Courroux 6 Experimental Tests of Arrows against Mail and Padding – David Jones 7 Four Misunderstood Gunpowder Recipes of the Fourteenth Century – Clifford J. Rogers



Previous Volumes

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8 The Earliest Middle English Recipes for Gunpowder – Trevor Russell Smith 9 Horses and Horsemen in Fifteenth-Century Siege Warfare, with Particular Reference to the Later Hundred Years’ War – Michael John Harbinson 10 Supplying the Army: The Siege of Pisa, 1499 – Fabrizio Ansani